Those of you who are heterosexual or bisexual may have, throughout your dating efforts, put considerable time and attention toward finding the guy who would be the one—your beloved “baby daddy.” This elusive man would have such noble characteristics as a strong and loving relationship with his mother; be adept at practicing random acts of kindness, such as paying it forward at the tollbooth; he would have a decent job he enjoys in a field contributing in some way to the greater good; and he’d be an all-around great guy in the sack.
As my bio-clock struck thirty, the resounding tick-tock of surging pregnancy urges pushed me eagerly into musings over a wide range of reproductive and family building options. Having hoped from the days of my youth that I would grow a baby, as a queer-identified, single person, I began to seriously consider how that might actually happen.
I wondered if I would eventually marry a woman with whom I’d raise a family, perhaps via the offering of a donor-relative on her side. Maybe I’d seek out a close friend to share in a lifetime of parenting. Perhaps I’d meet a gay male couple who’d be delighted to co-create a kid or two.