labor of love

Thomas Beatie
From The Advocate March 26, 2008

To our neighbors, my wife, Nancy, and I don’t appear in the least unusual. To those in the quiet Oregon community where we live, we are viewed just as we are -- a happy couple deeply in love. Our desire to work hard, buy our first home, and start a family was nothing out of the ordinary. That is, until we decided that I would carry our child.

I am transgender, legally male, and legally married to Nancy. Unlike those in same-sex marriages, domestic partnerships, or civil unions, Nancy and I are afforded the more than 1,100 federal rights of marriage. Sterilization is not a requirement for sex reassignment, so I decided to have chest reconstruction and testosterone therapy but kept my reproductive rights. Wanting to have a biological child is neither a male nor female desire, but a human desire.

Ten years ago, when Nancy and I became a couple, the idea of us having a child was more dream than plan. I always wanted to have children. However, due to severe endometriosis 20 years ago, Nancy had to undergo a hysterectomy and is unable to carry a child. But after the success of our custom screen-printing business and a move from Hawaii to the Pacific Northwest two years ago, the timing finally seemed right. I stopped taking my bimonthly testosterone injections. It had been roughly eight years since I had my last menstrual cycle, so this wasn’t a decision that I took lightly. My body regulated itself after about four months, and I didn’t have to take any exogenous estrogen, progesterone, or fertility drugs to aid my pregnancy.

Our situation sparks legal, political, and social unknowns. We have only begun experiencing opposition from people who are upset by our situation. Doctors have discriminated against us, turning us away due to their religious beliefs. Health care professionals have refused to call me by a male pronoun or recognize Nancy as my wife. Receptionists have laughed at us. Friends and family have been unsupportive; most of Nancy’s family doesn’t even know I’m transgender.

This whole process, from trying to get pregnant to being pregnant, has been a challenge for us. The first doctor we approached was a reproductive endocrinologist. He was shocked by our situation and told me to shave my facial hair. After a $300 consultation, he reluctantly performed my initial checkups. He then required us to see the clinic’s psychologist to see if we were fit to bring a child into this world and consulted with the ethics board of his hospital. A few months and a couple thousand dollars later, he told us that he would no longer treat us, saying he and his staff felt uncomfortable working with “someone like me.”

In total, nine different doctors have been involved. This is why it took over one year to get access to a cryogenic sperm bank to purchase anonymous donor vials, and why Nancy and I eventually resorted to home insemination.

When I finally got pregnant for the first time, I ended up having an ectopic pregnancy with triplets. It was a life-threatening event that required surgical intervention, resulting in the loss of all embryos and my right fallopian tube. When my brother found out about my loss, he said, “It’s a good thing that happened. Who knows what kind of monster it would have been.”

On successfully getting pregnant a second time, we are proud to announce that this pregnancy is free of complications and our baby girl has a clean bill of health. We are happily awaiting her birth, with an estimated due date of July 3, 2008.

How does it feel to be a pregnant man? Incredible. Despite the fact that my belly is growing with a new life inside me, I am stable and confident being the man that I am. In a technical sense I see myself as my own surrogate, though my gender identity as male is constant. To Nancy, I am her husband carrying our child -- I am so lucky to have such a loving, supportive wife. I will be my daughter’s father, and Nancy will be her mother. We will be a family.

Outside the local medical community, people don’t know I’m five months’ pregnant. But our situation ultimately will ask everyone to embrace the gamut of human possibility and to define for themselves what is normal.

in the sweet bye + bye

Margaret Kilgallen
In the Sweet Bye + Bye

i want this book.

un tecate

my new favorite drink is a tecate, poured into a glass, with one freshly squeezed lime, and salt along the rim. mmm good.

new handmade glasses

i went to ikea for the FIRST TIME, and purchased these awesome glasses. 1.99 each

boris boy

i'm writing this saturday morning, but i'm going to backtrack and speak as if today is really friday. and, i continue forth: i called my mom this morning. from the moment she picked up the phone i sensed something had gone array. in fact they had: boris died that morning. the story went as follows: mom came home from picking nathan up in town, and usually boris hobbles to the car as soon as he hears her drive up. today he didn't. as she unloaded nathan from the car she noticed that bori was laying on the ground along the gravel pathway by the garden shed. she called, "borissss, borisboya!" but he gave no response. mom thought something was up, so she pushed nathan inside, and fetched eilene (the golden dog). outside they went and to her surprise bori had dissapeared. she called for him again and again while she walked the parameter of the garden. she soon approached bori who was lying on his side, tounge sticking out, blood streaming from mouth, and eyes bulging. she later went to say she doesn't know how anyone can be okay upon returning from war, for the sight she say of our cat was simply horrific enough. then, bori tilted his head up and squeaked, gosh his meow is pathetic. mom picked him up, rushed him to the vet, and waited for the prognosis. cookie, our usual vet wasn't working, so another woman helped bori out of his misery. supposedly, she thinks that bori was hit or run over by a car. additionally, she says that he may have fallen from a height of ten feet or more; however, that's highly unlikely because boris could barely get himself up the stairs to his bed. i guess they sedated him, maybe took some x-rays (i can't remember), and hooked him up to an i.v. he was doing fine and stable until this morning. mom got the call this morning, took the poor guy home, and buried him next to yoyo, nathan's old canine companion. mom's so cute, she said she's going to laminate a picture of him and post it on a stick just above his grave. no bowling balls mom?

decisions

today is the day i expose myself entirely to you. welcome to entry no. 1.

i always spend a great amount of free time gazing at other peoples' blogs, indulging in their interests, while thinking to myself that i should be doing the same. i stopped writing in my journal years ago, so maybe, just maybe, cyberspace will stimulate my fingers and brain long enough to create some sort of verbal engagement. the idea in the end is to create a dialogue with you.

so,,,, visit me often, and tell your mother too.

hanna