I’m ranting a bit here, so be warned. I’m not sure if I’ve updated everyone on my sister’s second pregnancy or not so if I’m a broken record, it’s just because I’m pissed. She’s decided, with the help of my father who also thinks that abortions are wrong, to keep this second child.
A little back story on my sister in one paragraph. I hate sounding off on her negatives so frequently. There are many wonderful and good qualities that I really do love about my sister. She really is an amazing person. She’s wildly creative and a genius at her art. She’s shown in various galleries in the North West Ohio area and has an offer to show with her professor in a show this spring. Her talent is boundless but her attention isn’t always focused where it needs to be.
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She’s an addict. She’s been an addict for years, about five to seven. I say five to seven years because it’s still unclear when her addiction started. She’s not really forth coming in a lot of questions asked about her addiction. Addicts lie-a lot. I don’t think that she’s irresponsible because of her addiction, necessarily. She’s always been a little irresponsible for as long as I can remember. The addiction doesn’t help this at all though. She’s lazy. Again, her laziness isn’t necessarily the addiction. She’s always sort of been content with things as they are-not really willing to make any extra effort. She just breezes by. Last fact about my sis is that she already has one child, my nephew, my joy, my everything. My parents are raising this boy. Since their divorce, my mother is raising him.
So she tells me on Christmas Day that she’s pregnant again and makes comments about weight gain and water retention rather than meaningful comments about where she and this baby will live, how she will support them both, etc. I urged her to think hard about bringing another life into the world when she isn’t supporting the first life she brought into the world. I reminded her that she was still in school, only a year to go! I told reminded her that she didn’t have a residence or a job. (The things that are usually in place before you get yourself knocked up.)
We ended our conversation with me frustrated and her ideally contemplative. Nope. Got a call from my mother telling me that they had a family talk and all decided that they should have this second child. Family talk, eh? Last I checked I was part of the family and I wasn’t included in the talk. Last I check these cell phone things have speaker phone options on them that allow you to talk to multiple people at the same time. That’s neither here nor there at this point. It happened. They decided and now I’m going to be an aunt for the second time.
I talked to my father last night for the first time in months. There are various reasons that my father and I don’t speak to one another. The fact that we’re both stubborn and strikingly similar is one of them. I called to talk to my mother and my father was at her apartment. Since it’d been months and his voice that decided the fate of this unborn child, I thought we should chat. I was pissed, really, and told him so. One of his arguments was that something like 60% of births in the US are out of wedlock. I’m not sure if this is an actual statistic or not. I told him this, I also told him that it wasn’t the fact that she wasn’t married to this second baby daddy that bothered me. It was the fact that she is irresponsible and has never taken real responsibility for anything in her entire life. This second “accidental” pregnancy is a perfect example.
The girl has no money, no job, no house and all of a sudden she’s a mother-for the second time. Even though she’s in her late twenties, she’s a child herself. Towards the end of our conversation I wanted to throw my phone against the wall. I wouldn’t do it though because it’s a brand new Blackberry and my father and my idiotic sister aren’t worth it.
In a strange twist of events Mirs’ brother just announced that he, too, is going to be a father-quite out of the blue. Like my sister, he is still very dependent on his parents and doesn’t have a job. Over many glasses of wine last night Mirs and I commiserated our frustrations and angers. It’s hard. It’s a hard situation to be in when you’re younger sibling’s continued irresponsible actions are seemingly met with no consequence.
Mirs brought up another layer of frustration. The fact that in the USA it’s illegal for she and I to get married but it’s okay for drug addicted, unemployed people to give birth. How fucked is that?
I think that because I stayed closeted for many years the idea of not being able to have a baby with my partner never really crossed my mind. With all of the technological advances of modern medicine, anything is possible. I even heard that Mirs and I could have a baby that was genetically “ours” by dividing our eggs and then putting them back together. It’s more scientific than that, of course, but it can be done.
A lot of my frustrations with unplanned pregnancies and one of the reasons I think gay parents make better parents than some straight parents is because we can never get accidentally pregnant. When gay parents decide that they want to make their partnership a family it takes planning and work. It’s something that they both decide on. One partner can’t really forget to take the pill or poke holes into a diaphragm and get knocked up.
In the case of lesbians it’s first a discussion of birth over adoption. Mirs and I both want to carry and are talking about birthing children. The next question, in our case especially, is the type of sperm. Originally we talked about my getting pregnant with Jewish sperm and she getting pregnant with black sperm so that our children would look the same. Then, a dear friend of mine reminded me that it’s not important if the children look the same, if they can’t help one another medically down the line in a case of emergency. Back to the drawing board we went…and we’re not even married. Oh, I’m sorry, we can’t get married! We’re not “even roommates”
It’s shocking to me that our rights as lesbians are threatened day in and day out. Our fitness as parents gets questioned and we can be denied the right to adopt a child in many states just because of our sexual orientation. On the other hand, people like my sister can continue to act illogically and find themselves carrying a helpless child.
All I can do is shrug my shoulders. My father’s last comment to me was that he doesn’t judge. He doesn’t judge our lives, he said, he just tries to be there for us. He still has yet to mention Miriam as my girlfriend, but he doesn’t judge.
Could I be mad at this second baby because he’s chipping away at my inheritance? Could I be frustrated at my sister because she can just spread her legs and BAM! She’s pregnant? Could it be that I feel, as the oldest child, that I should be the one having the baby first? Could it be that I’m resentful that my parents are elated at the thought of another grand baby no matter how they got it? or Could it be that deep down, my almost thirty uterus is snickering at me, chiding me, begging me, even, to put a little human being in it too.