Somewhere That's Green

Ever since I was young I knew I wanted to have a family.  You know, like, a “normal” one. A happy one. A safe one.  Like the one I’d seen on television. The Wonder Years. Full House.  Growing Pains. I probably watched a million hours of television and movies as a boy, reading books too.  I loved stories. Lived for them, in fact. The family I had wasn’t quite like the families I had seen in those stories.  I yearned for one though. Deep in my bones. I laid in bed at night envisioning the perfect little family around the dinner table, mom in her apron and dad with his coffee and newspaper, kids playing board games on the shag carpet.  I think I learned early on I’d have to create that family for myself someday.

I remember the way in which my mom would clean the house, wiping the tables so that the wood glowed warm and pristine.  I’d watch her as a boy in awe. The way she did it was a work of art. She had such purpose. Such love for us. Look at her, making sure we have a clean, perfect little home.  Her dream was probably to create a family too.  One not quite like her own. My mom was fighting many demons that I won’t get into here but no matter the amount of Pledge she used,  the dust and dirt kept piling up everyday. There was alcohol and drug abuse in my home as a child. My Dad wasn’t around much.There was fighting.  Resentments. My mom’s dream started to drift away and deteriorate. As it did, I sometimes wonder if the seed was then planted in me?

My mom taught me to dream big.  She didn’t put any parameters on how much I imagined as a child.  It wasn’t as simple as her saying things like “You can be whatever you want” or “Never let anything hold you back.”  I am saying she allowed me to use my imagination in amazing, strange ways. I mean, the examples are plenty. She gave me space to play Barbies and He-Man and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.  She gave me safety to create elaborate games for my sister and I to play. She gave me freedom to produce crazy plays and dances with our cousins. She gave me time to watch and become obsessed with Wizard of Oz, a story about finding your way home on your own.  She was patient and let my best friend Booger and I make messy experiments with food coloring, today’s version of slime-making. She let us even roller-skate in the house! I’d do this super odd thing where I’d go inside my bedroom and close the door and “make noises.”   I’d be imagining stories, seeing it all play out in my mind, acting it, creating the sounds and effects, expressing a story with my body. Did my mom ever knock on the door to stop me? Did she say I was weird or tease me? Not at all. She was "free range" parenting before it was a thing.

Some could say that I was born with this ability to dream; to envision something outside my world was a talent in my biology from the start.  Some would also maybe say that I used this imagination to escape the world I was living in, a way to compartmentalize. Either way, my mom nurtured it, let me run wild and free, sometimes even dreaming along with me.  She didn’t just wipe the tables clean for me. Her love for me created a dreamer. I am forever grateful for this. My mom passed a couple years ago from somewhat mysterious causes (maybe including drugs and/or alcohol).

So, as a boy, I dreamed of the traditional family.  I would have a wife and we’d make babies. Plain and simple.  As I grew into my teen years, my ideas of a family that I could create changed, hesitantly realizing my sexuality.  I would imagine a family where I’d have a wife but maybe I’d secretly cheat on her with men to satisfy my real desires.  I’d seen it on Ricki Lake. Hey, at least I’d have a family! In college, becoming more accepting of my sexuality, I dreamed that maybe I could convince one of my female friends to have sex with me and have my baby.  I could be gay and sort of straight but also be a dad! They did it in The Next Best Thing! In my twenties, knowing that my previous dreams were not realistic, I would imagine adopting and/or fostering children.

Now, in my thirties, with a husband and house and semi-family, the world has changed and the possibilities for gay men to have children has become more and more viable.  My husband and I received an “instant family” four years ago, becoming legal guardians to my three nieces and nephew. Although the children make our lives better and fuller everyday and we’re incredibly thankful to have the opportunity to love them up, we’re ready to have a child of our own.  Outside influences, though sensible and undeniable, sometimes affect our current family. My dream of a family all my own has not been fulfilled. With Adan, my husband, earning his Green Card last summer, it just seems like now is the right time to begin the process. We are excited to continue building a home of love and safety and peace...This time with a child that belongs wholly to us.  (I know with surrogacy this isn’t completely possible. This is an issue I am sure I’ll discuss in a future blog post.)

This blog will document our journey in surrogacy.  It’s for our family and friends and people who are interested.  It’s also for our future child. I hope they understand how much we want this, how much we loved them before they even came into existence, how we had dreams of them, and dreams for them.  I hope they learn how I wanted to create a family I didn’t quite have, how I wanted to teach my child to dream like my mom did for me, how I wanted to share this amazing adventure with them. I want them to see how Joe (and Adan) grew a family.

P.S.  On a side note, I am extremely busy.  I am a husband, “Guardian”, brother, friend, and teacher.  I’m also trying REALLY hard to publish one of my books. I have so much going on.  I am not saying I won’t regularly update, cause I do think I will... Hopefully. But I am saying that not every blog entry will be as poetic and as deep as this one.  They might be quick and sporadic and disjointed and weird. There may be grammar mistakes or even poor writing skills. Please excuse and don’t judge. Stop reading if it bothers you  ;-)