Lesbian Parents – What’s in a Name?

“So if she’s known as Mummy, what does your daughter call you”? Being two women with a one year old baby, this is a frequent question we are asked. Our answer, which although has had considerable thought thrown at it, is simple in its logic. With one of us Spanish and the other English, we go by the native terminology; Mummy and Mami, although given some of the identity boundaries we have faced, it could easily have been Mummy and Maddy / Dummy (a Mummy-Daddy hybrid).

L Word’s Bette and Tina made parent labels seem simple with their Mama B-Mama T set-up, however as we are beginning to learn, the dynamics of parental identity for lesbians extends far beyond a name. A long way from our initial expectations of overcoming obstacles such as public scrutiny and length of paternity leave, the hardest challenge has actually been about defining our roles both physically and psychologically. This may have been a walk in the park in some partnership dynamics where one has a much stronger maternal instinct than the other, but for us; two overly hormonal femmes with similar measures of maternity, it has at times been tough. That’s not to say we’ve fallen at the fence, but it has made us realise the importance of being open and honest with each other and that has meant a lot of talking.

Hannah and Marie at Evelyn's Christening

Aside being incredibly joyous, miraculous and momentous, the first few months of our daughter’s life were some of the hardest we’ve ever experienced as a couple. With a third person to add to the dynamics of any partnership, there is inevitably some distance put between you both as you make ‘room for a little one’, but my expectations were somewhat unrealistic in thinking that being a lesbian couple with an ‘all-feminine’ bond, we would be exempt or at least protected somewhat from the feeling of separateness couples experience when birth mother is preoccupied with baby. For me, my experience seemed barely different to that of men I know who had recently become Dads and for a while, I found myself joining in the blokes’ conversations at friend’s gatherings, muttering “poor me” a lot and discussing the notion of being shut out whilst Mum bonded with baby. This was made harder by the pressure I felt to be more of an understanding partner given my sex – a benchmark that in all fairness, I set myself but failed to reach on some occasions as I dealt with my own insecurities of being pushed out and adopting a supporting role of Vice Mum – my partner’s somewhat highly strung and volatile co-Mummy.

For a while I struggled with my parental identity, known to all as Mummy but with a maternal skill-set seemingly stripped of some of its vital tools for Evelyn. Whilst I knew this would change when I got my chance at being birth mother, it has lead me towards adopting a more paternal role. That’s not to say it’s been a chore. On the contrary I have actually quite enjoyed being the protector and provider and it’s clear that our daughter is drawn to my partner when she’s wants to be nurtured and to me when she wants playtime. For now, I’m fun-time Mummy and I’m cool with that. I guess the real test will be when I play birth mother to our next child and our roles are forced to adapt once more.

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Blog post by Hannah Revill
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Starting a Family – Our Journey

Mari, Hannah and baby Evelyn

Whether you’re thinking about starting a family or you’ve started one already and are keen to compare notes, hearing about other couple’s journeys can be a comfort in the minority situation that is lesbian parenting. Here’s how we did it.

My partner Mari and I got together at Brighton Pride seven years ago and we’re what you’d describe as a lipstick and chapstick with a mortgage and a cat. Both from large families, we are often surrounded by kids and we’ve always shared an interest in wanting to raise our own children. Mari is two years older than me so it was a natural and mutual decision for her to go first in sprog-popping. I would then follow suit, popping out the next one a few years after. Having considering every possible conception method known to man (IVF, known donor, unknown donor, spermdirect.com, one night stand…I could go on), we decided we’d be most comfortable with IUI at King’s College Hospital London with an anonymous donor. However after multiple visits, tests, a round of artificial insemination and a humorous car journey on the rush-hour congested south circular, with Mari’s legs on the dashboard, it sadly wasn’t meant to be. Thanks to Mari’s younger brother, who is rather educated about all things gay (yes, two in the family), we found out about the London Women’s Clinic, which turned out to be the miracle clinic that helped produce our beautiful daughter Evelyn.

Located on Harley Street, the LWC is a private clinic specialising in assisted reproduction technologies for straight and gay couples as well as singles. If like us, you winced at the H word, naturally assuming you’d be paying through the nose (sculpted or otherwise) for extortionate IVF treatment, hold your horses. After attending one of their aptly named inseminars (yes, you read that correctly), we were enlightened not only on their incredibly high success rate, but also on their egg-sharing programme, a scheme whereby women can donate half of their healthy eggs and in return, receive free IVF treatment. I’d be lying if I said we weren’t initially attracted to the oxymoronic idea of free IVF, given the money we’d already spent on failed treatment at King’s, but at the foot of this was a decision not to be taken lightly. After a few weeks of talks between us and our families and some counselling provided by the clinic, we decided that egg-sharing was the way forward as we’d be giving both ourselves and another women the possible opportunity to become Mums. Since we already felt indebted to the powers that be for the sperm to make it all happen for us, this felt like the right thing to do, giving something back and restoring a harmonious balance in the reproduction process.

Choosing a donor was much like filling in a dating application. You state the specifics of what you’re looking to then be matched with potential suiters. Seemed simple enough on paper, less so in conversation. Aside Mari’s trademark indecisiveness (she takes 15 minutes to choose a sandwich filling), we wanted to give ourselves the best chance of a good donor. Too specific and we could risk having no matches, not specific enough and we could end up with all sorts of weird and wonderful candidates. So there we sat in the consultation room, with a form on a clipboard, deciding among a number of things, height, weight, age, ethnic origin and interests. A few weeks later, we were matched with a canoe loving, Brazilian Research Scientist standing at 6 ft 3. Perfect.

Living in Kent, visits to LWC were not cheap, but with the new high-speed link and the cost-saving on treatment, journeys to and from the clinic were pretty pain free. Treatment started in late spring 2010 and after a number of blood and fertility tests, Mari was given the IVF drugs to stimulate egg production. Within 3-4 weeks Mari had produced 24 eggs ripe for the picking. 12 of these were donated to the other couple we’d been matched to and 12 were used for our own IVF, using the sperm from our selected donor. Within 24 hours, the embryologist telephoned to inform us that 10 eggs had fertilised successfully and that they needed to incubate for another 48 hours to find out if any would be viable for implantation. Early morning on day 3 we were informed we had 2 viable “grade 2 – 7 cell” embryos and were asked to go to the clinic to be implanted. My partner was thrilled but also confused and worried as to why only 2 embryos out of 10 were viable for implantation. We later found out that each fertilised egg needs to develop into 6-8 cells within 36 hours of fertilisation in order for it to be viable or strong enough to survive implantation, and what happened to us was fairly normal. Within hours we were at the clinic and Mari was “implanted” with one little embryo, and sent home to rest for a week. This for Mari entailed watching 3 box sets of Brother’s and Sister’s, 1 box set of L Word, gorging on copious amounts of chocolate and surrounding herself with a plethora of blue and orange coloured scarves (she read somewhere that these colours aid the conception process).

Whether it was the Brazilian super sperm, Mari’s miracle eggs, the indulgent rest period or the blue and orange scarves, the pregnancy test a week later proved positive, concluding a successful first round of IVF. We were thrilled! 9 months later Mari gave birth to a beautiful little girl who we named Evelyn Rose, giving her a double-barrelled surname using both our surnames, just like the Spanish tradition.

As for me, well I have a sneaky couple of amps of Brazilian super sperm tucked away in the freezer waiting to create a half-blood sibling for Evelyn (I realise this sounds like a partially magical Harry Potter character). Let’s just hope my eggs are just as welcoming.

http://www.londonwomensclinic.com/index.php/london/p/what_is_egg_sharing
http://www.kch.nhs.uk/service/a-z/acu

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Blog post by Hannah Revill

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NHS & NICE propose IVF overhaul to give lesbians the right to free fertility treatment

"Same-sex couples and women aged up to 42 may soon be eligible for IVF treatment, according to new draft guidelines published today. The proposals were issued by the National Institute for health and Clinical Excellence (NICE) and featured prominently in the news, although they also include a range of recommendations not covered by the media." According to the NHS website.

"What do the new proposals say?

The updated draft guidelines released today for public consultation include the following key suggested changes:

• extending the upper age limit of women who can receive one cycle of IVF to 42 years old
• increasing the number of embryos implanted into the womb during a cycle of IVF
• excluding oral ovarian stimulation agents that have previously been recommended
• making new groups of the population eligible to receive fertility treatment

The draft proposals suggest making IVF available to a number of identified groups including same-sex couples."

According to Pinknews.co.uk,

"The recommendations, which puts same-sex couples on par with heterosexual couples when it comes to fertility treatment, is issued by the government watchdog for cost-effective treatment in the NHS, National Institute for Health and Clinical Excellence (NICE).

Then new guidelines also call on health authorities in England and Wales to fund intra-uterine insemination (IUI), which uses donor sperms to help same-sex couples conceive. If IUI should fail for six cycles in a row, then, they should be considered for the more costly, and medically complex IVF, the guidelines will say."

The guidelines are open for consultation and more information including the full proposals and how to respond to the consultation are available on the NICE website. Individuals are not able to respond, however a representative of LGBT people will be collecting views to formally respond.