Dreams and Nightmares 7: Conception and Pregnancy in a New Way

Conception and Pregnancy in a New Way

            Late summer, 1989. My friend Tom Rust had talked my partner Vince and me into going to a meeting put on by Alameda County Social Services to learn about the process of adoption. Tom was not in a relationship at the time and was somewhat interested in adopting as a single man. Vince and I have been together for nearly 7 years. Adoption was an idea we had entertained and discussed with various people, even gone to an informal gathering, of mostly lesbians, to talk about the possibility and various methods of getting a child.

After a few years together, we had wanted to expand our relationship. In straight relationships the natural thing to do is to have a child. And for straight people it’s usually pretty easy: just stop doing birth control. That was not one of our options! Many gay couples get cats or dogs and refer to them as their children, but that didn’t interest us. I had been a paperboy and so did not want a dog, and Vince was terribly allergic to cats. So, we got chickens.

Both of my parents are grown up on farms, and when we were young and wanted a pet, they would give us a baby chicken. When we would lose interest in the pet, as children are wont to do, the chicken would disappear. I didn’t realize until much later what it happened. When I was a teenager my good friend Jimmy and I both developed an interest in chickens and pigeons as pets and kept them as a hobby for several years. So, when Vince and I were deciding what to do, the idea of getting chickens seemed like a natural thing. If we had them for a while and didn’t want them, we could simply eat them! (We did that once, when one of the chicks grew to be a rooster, illegal in the city. Ugh! Never again! We learned our lesson: Never eat someone you know!)

Animal husbandry is a fine hobby, and we still have our little urban farm with hens and garden beds in the back yard, but it didn’t satisfy our desire to expand our relationship. We realized we wanted the family. The problem was, adoption just didn’t happen very often or very easily in 1980s. As far as we knew it was only done through private agencies or through private arrangements with high attorney fees, which we wanted to avoid. Sometimes I’m not one to let reality get in the way of what I want to do, so it was with that attitude that we all arrived for the adoption meeting that summer evening in Hayward.

We found our way to a large room at one of the local elementary schools. I remember the fluorescent lights, the tile flooring, and the empty echo of the school during summer break. There were three other heterosexual couples in the room. After getting a cookie from the table we all sat and listened to the social workers describe the process of fostering a child or adopting a child. They talked about the lack of available infants, the sketchy background of many of the available children, and the tremendous need for parents. They clearly want to give a realistic picture of the situation, as well as encouragement should folks decide to pursue that avenue. The social workers paid a lot of attention to the straight couples, and eyed us from time to time with a quizzical look.

At the end of the meeting the workers smiled at the straight couples and gave them applications, encouraging them to fill out the paper and return it. “There is such a need!” they said, showing us binders of photos of available children and their profiles.

As the social worker walked past us, I asked for an application. “Oh,” she said, “we don’t give children to gay men.” At least she had figured out that much.

“Well, can we at least have the form? Is there something wrong, or is it against the law for us to fill out the form?” I was pushing the boundaries, but I also figured if it was absolutely impossible, we may as well find out sooner than later.

She rolled her eyes, gave a sigh, and handed me an application. It was simple and straightforward, obviously the first of many documents because it didn’t ask very much. That night at home Vince and I decided that we would apply to the county, probably get rejected, and then pursue other, private avenues for adoption. Across the top of the form we wrote in large block letters, GAY COUPLE, to make their rejection process speedier. We figured we would relieve them of the task of having to try to figure out whether we were gay or straight. We weren’t very hopeful about the county. They could notify us immediately and tell us that we were not qualified. And with that we sent in the form.

About a week later we got a call from Alameda County. “My name is Fredi Juni, and I would like to talk to you about your application.” I was prepared to have her explain some bureaucratic reason why gay people could not adopt. I was ready to be rejected without fighting. Gay people, like many minorities, know when fighting about something might be worth it and when it’s not. “When can you come in for a meeting?” she asked.

The application consisted of several forms, several reference letters attesting to our fitness for parenthood, several interviews, and 25 pages of essay questions, 2 per page, asking about everything from our religious practices, to our relationship communications, to our methods of child rearing. Fredi was very patient, telling us that the county had never placed a child with a gay couple. “It’s just not done,” she said. “It’s not that it’s against the law exactly, but the social service agencies haven’t done it. When we look for a placement for a child, we look at several factors, and a married, heterosexual couple, who own their own home, are employed, and go to church regularly, still are the most valued placements for children. But we’ll see what we can do.” She explained that those standards had been established in the 1920s, so it was becoming increasingly more difficult to find families who met them all.

We did all of the application procedures and waited. We sporadically considered other agencies and other avenues because we didn’t hear anything from Alameda County for a long time. Once in the winter and then again, a couple of months later in the spring, Fredi called us to talk about the possibility of adopting what she called an older child, three or four years old. For various reasons we were not under consideration for very long either one of those cases, and I began to lose hope. Fredi also asked us if we would be willing to adopt an infant, as she thought that that would increase our chances.

I was teaching elementary school at the time, and had taken a summer school job. I was at school on Friday after the regular school year ended, getting materials ready for summer school to begin the following Monday. My principal called my room and asked me to come to the office, that Vince was on the phone.

“They want to talk to us,” he said. “They want to talk to us this afternoon. At 4 o’clock. Can you come?” Vince is sometimes more optimistic than I.

“Of course,” I replied, “but don’t get your hopes up. This is happened before, remember?” I finished getting materials together for summer school to put the idea of getting a child out of my mind.

Vince and I arrived at the offices for the Alameda County social services honestly not expecting a whole lot. I had worn him down reminding him of the two other situations for which we had been considered and then withdrawn. It was a very busy operation, with phones ringing and social workers talking. Lots of desks and stacks of papers. We were shown to a small side office. Fredi came in and recalled for us the previous two situations and assured us that the fact that we had even been considered was in our favor. She also said that she was surprised that there hadn’t been an infant available. As she continued to speak I kind of lost track of what she was saying. “Three weeks old…homeless mother…no prenatal care…tomorrow… available…” She showed us a blurry Polaroid photo of a tiny baby on a dark carpet in someone’s living room. It still wasn’t making much sense.

            Fredi left the office for a minute to check on something. I must have looked like I was in a 

daze. I was probably thinking about summer school. Vince turned to me and said, “She’s not asking 

whether we want this baby. Mel, she’s asking when she can bring him to us.” Suddenly it became 

very real. We were getting a baby!