Last week, my wife threw up from watching a baby being born on TV. A bit of a visceral reaction to the whole “Let’s get pregnant and have a baby”… right?
As I listened to her heaving inside the bathroom, I found myself grossed out by seeing the goo-covered newborn crowning between his mother’s legs.
Pregnancy is Disgusting
There, I said it. Sorry, not sorry. The more I learn about what it’s like to get pregnant and have a baby, the less I want to do it… ever. 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’m a newlywed. On Saturday, I will turn 32. Since I’m married and in my 30s, apparently, I’m supposed to want to get pregnant and have a baby. I learned this because people won’t stop asking me every five seconds about it.
Photo: via Freepik
Why is This Conversation Considered Appropriate?
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.
Yes, there is a Positive Here
I suppose I should be happy that keep people asking me about popping out babies, because it must be a testament to the growing acceptance of same-sex marriage, people 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 about this. Actually, medical professionals seem to be similarly baffled by my empty, lesbian uterus.
Photo: via Freepik
Do I need to Explain the Birds and the Bees?
Consider a recent trip I had to the gyno. It’s crazy to think that I apparently need to educate a doctor on how women get pregnant.
“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. He seemed to wait for my response with bated breath.
“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?”
“Yes,” he said with his eyes narrow yet blank.
“So… I don’t need to take the pill, because I can’t get pregnant with my wife.”
“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. And he made some notes. Maybe reminding himself you need sperm and an egg to make a baby and get pregnant. Feeling annoyed, I just rolled my eyes and laid back on the exam table.
You know what? At the end of the day, I’m glad I’m gay. At least I won’t get pregnant accidentally. Another benefit? I suppose I won’t make my wife puke in the delivery room.
Originally published in The Huffington Post on December 15, 2011
