Now that my children are getting older, I expect them to have a few more questions about how they got here. This is one of the down sides of teaching them how to talk, but there were so many other advantages to talking and it seemed to come naturally, so we just went with it.
There is no guide book for talking to your kids about how your gay parents had you, although I’m sure someone is writing one. And if I may, here is a suggestion for a title: How to Not Talk to Your Kids about Sex.
It recently occurred to me that I got pregnant without having sex with anyone. Or at least the sex didn’t cause me to become pregnant. OK, wait, I knew that at the time but what I’m saying is that it dawned on me that I could relay all of the details of my daughter’s conception and birth to her without mentioning anything but online shopping and trips to the doctor’s office, both of which she already knows about.
Really, it would be talking about an immaculate conception – in that it was immaculate and there was conception. In fact, it was so immaculate that my dirty vagina wasn’t allowed anywhere near the place where the sperm and the egg got together. It probably happened in a sterilized room where smart people dressed in cleanroom apparel and using pipettes put some sperm in a petri dish with my eggs. But, I wouldn’t know because I wasn’t directly involved. Seriously, I have an alibi.
And it’s probably rude or blasphemous to call it an immaculate conception. But I didn’t call it The Immaculate Conception, because I read up on that, and I don’t get it. There are so many self-referential euphemisms in the description of the Original Sin and the Immaculate Conception that I could not figure what the Catholics were talking about. It was like talking to someone who insists on using air quotes around every other word. I mean, seriously, how can you write three paragraphs about something and still not really say what it is. So, I gave up. Maybe I’ll ask my mother-in-not-law next time I get a chance.
I think all that this really means is that in our house there will be two talks: The sex talk and the how-babies-are-born talk. Except that there won’t be, because I don’t want to have a “big talk.” I would like all of this to become part of our normal, family dialogue.
Stop! Wait! Don’t call social services! We are not going to sit around all day talking to our kids about sex. We are just going to answer questions with facts and compassion when they come up, just like everything else that we talk about.
In fact, Wynn and I have “big talks” all the time. Last night’s was about “why it’s OK to feel afraid.” And the night before, it was “being nice to your sister.” And we even had a talk about how some children don’t come out of their mom’s belly (because they are adopted). So far, that one was the most surprising to her judging only by the size of her eyes. And “feeling afraid” had the most tears. And, of course, “being nice to your sister” involved the most eye-rolling.
So, I’m looking forward to seeing what we can not talk about next.
© Sarah Ann Gilbert and Seven Little Mexicans, 2014. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Sarah Ann Gilbert and Seven Little Mexicans with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.