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No, I Don’t Want to Get Pregnant… So Stop Asking

The unique challenges and assumptions faced by individuals in the LGBTQ community.

Photo: cottonbro studio via Pexels

Last week my wife threw up from watching a baby being born on TV.

As I listened to her heaving inside the bathroom, I also found myself grossed out by seeing the goo-covered newborn crowning between his mother’s legs.

Pregnancy is disgusting. The more I learn about what it’s like to have a baby, the less I want to do it. Why on Earth would I sign myself up for almost ten months of nausea, hemorrhoids, night sweats, and getting fat? Nope, no thanks. I’ll just take the sex part, please.

I have been married for a little over a year. On Saturday I will turn 32. Since I’m married and in my 30s, apparently I’m supposed to have a baby. I learned this because people won’t stop asking me every five seconds about it.

The other day a friend turned to me over drinks and asked, “Do you want kids?”

“Oh, sure,” I said. “I just don’t want to have them.”

She was very confused and needed a follow-up question: “Wait… so… is your wife going to carry the babies?”

“No,” I responded.

She scrunched up her face and turned her head to the side, trying to understand the logistics. “Then your plan is to adopt?” She asked.

“I would love to do that,” I explained, “but I don’t think they will give me a baby, since I’m a porn producer.”

“Oh, I didn’t think of that,” she said, puzzled. “Well maybe you could do a sperm donor.”

“Absolutely not! I am not interested in having sperm inside me ever again,” I told her. Case closed.

I suppose I should be happy that, as a testament to the growing acceptance of same-sex marriage, people keep asking me about popping out babies. This annoying line of questioning was previously a privilege reserved only for straight newlyweds.

I have at least two conversations per week about the topic of children. It’s not just friends and family members who ask; medical professionals seem to be similarly baffled by my empty, lesbian uterus.

“Ms. Lumpkin, before I get started on your pap smear, I have a few questions. It says on your chart you are married. How old is your husband?” A doctor enquired, glancing over his clipboard.

“I’m gay, actually.”

“Erm… I see.” He coughed out of embarrassment like a ridiculous doctor in a movie. “Are you currently on the birth control pill?”

“Um, I’m gay.”

“Yes,” he said with his eyes narrow, yet blank.

“So… I don’t need to take the pill… since I can’t get pregnant.”

“Oh, oh! Of course, that makes sense!” he said, tapping the end of his pen against his ancient, wrinkled temple to awaken his hibernating brain. I just rolled my eyes and laid back on the exam table.

You know what? I’m glad I’m gay. At least I won’t get pregnant accidentally.

Originally published in The Huffington Post on December 15, 2011

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