Questions we get asked

Late autumn. Clouds and sudden sunshine.

Who's going to be the Dad? (Joey)
God, so are you going to have sex!? (I already do. With Hollie)
Who's getting pregnant? (Me)
Are you pregnant already? (No)
How long have you known each other? (We've been friends with Joey 10 years or so)
Oh, so you have to have IVF? (No, not unless there's a problem)
So when's it all going to happen? (July. Argh!)
How did you even bring that up with him!? (Letter. It was hard!)
Doesn't Helen mind? (Short answer, no. But for the beautiful explanation of why and how and what she thinks about it all - well, I guess Helen says it best. I'm just grateful)
What's he going to be - an uncle? (Nope. Sperm's from him... That makes him the father)
Oh... A turkey baster? (10mL syringe)
Are your parents excited? (Oh my goodness, yes)
But what will happen then.. does he have to, you know... (Yep. But I don't have to have anything to do with that bit of it all)
So, will they be able to take you to court for the baby? (Not if it's born in Victoria)
Who goes on the birth certificate? (Me and Hol)
Have they already got kids? (No)
A jar... Are you for real? (Yep)
Sorry, is this too personal? (Um... Well, I guess there's not much 'personal' when you're trying to make a baby with a group of four people)
Are they going to have kids? (Yes, I think so. Maybe not right away. They will be beautiful parents)
Aren't you worried about the whole legal side of it? (Not too much)
So... If they want kids, how come Helen is ok with it all? (She's a truly great person. Also, she just says - "it'll be your kid, we're just helping")
Don't you have to kind of get it in there some kind of special way? (No, the syringe is fine)
Who is going to stay home and look after the baby? (Me, mostly)
Does your school know yet? (No. Well, kind of)
But how long do you have before the sperm, you know, die in the jar? (Surprisingly long)
Do his parents know? (Yes)
Do you reckon Hollie will want to have a baby one day too? (Maybe. Maybe not)
I mean, how is that handover of the jar even going to happen? (Text message to let us know we're good to go probably! "The eagle has landed... You can come back from the pub now!")
Is it that you want a male role model? (Sort of. More that I'd like my kid to know their dad... The guy who made them, it's pretty special, even if he's not parenting in a day to day way)
Would you like to have just had sex? (As above, I already do have sex. With Hollie)
Do you need to get some kind of tests? (Not really)
How did you get all this information about the turkey baster method anyway? ("The complete guide to lesbian conception, pregnancy and birth". It's a great book)
Where will you have the baby? (Home, I hope)
So, Helen... is she, like, some kind of saint? (She's pretty magnificent, yes)
There are books about this stuff? (Sure are! There's a gayby boom, you know)
Will you have to try a few times do you think? (Fingers crossed, no!)

Overwhelmed

Perfect Canberra blue autumn day.

I spent the day with Joey and Helen building their first garden bed today. Six weeks ago they moved into Joey's childhood home - a bush block with wombats, echidnas and roos, a dam, a wealth of trees and logs, hills, slopes, rocks and sticks, and a big old house cluttered with books, pots, tins, paintings, prints, photos, instruments, toys, shelves, cloth and drawers. The verandas have boxes and boxes of tools and bottling jars, newspaper and pottery, there's a swing set, a fallen down cubby, surfboards by the dam, rusty bikes, a Beetle filled with kids books, a windmill in pieces, a potters wheel, a giant ants nest. They are in the thick of making sense of the wonder and jumble of it all, getting the solar power, the generator and the pump for the dam all working, and getting the first garden built felt like a big achievement for the settling in effort!

While we dug and made edges, we also talked all day, off and on, about the baby collective. Helen is so eloquent when she talks about why she thinks that it is a wonderful thing for us to all be doing together. I didn't know before today that she'd thought about it from so many angles, and with such generosity towards all of the different perspectives. She makes me feel safe, and overtaken by such a sense of trust and love and overwhelming good fortune instead of the usual worry and fuss. And it is overwhelming - there is so much love and goodwill being extended for a child who doesn't even exist yet, and in every hidey-hole, magical bit of junk and little animal track into the tall grass all I can see is the joy of summer holidays together here and that feels like such a richness it is completely unbelievable too.