Katya Quigley is a radio broadcaster currently on maternity leave. Politicians around the world engage in endless debate on issues such as gay marriage while gay and lesbian couples  just get on with their lives. Falling in love, creating their families, laughing, crying, enduring the same challenges of raising children as the rest of us. The thought and care that goes into the decision of deciding to have a baby, the quest for a donor and the logistics of an ongoing relationship between donor and child are a complicated series of events which involve much introspection and negotiation. I was so excited when Katya told me she and her partner where trying to have a baby. They are two amazing women who offer so much to a child. Their strength during the turmoil of trying to conceive was a credit to both of them. The struggles since their little boy arrived would be familiar to many mothers who didn’t get the dream birth or idyllic early days with their baby. Through it all Katya and her partner have retained their sense of humour, held tight together and worked hard to overcome the challenges. I admire them both so much.

Photo by Stained In Ink Photography.

My journey to motherhood began around three years ago when my partner and I decided to get serious about starting a family.  Being in a same-sex relationship, the mechanics of getting from A to baby are somewhat challenging and there was a lot to consider.

We’d dallied around the idea for a while and had a few casual conversations with male friends about the prospect of becoming a donor daddy.  It wasn’t until we pushed the point that we realised no one was really serious about that level of commitment.

After countless hours of research into the business of buying and acquiring sperm, we found a way that better matched our vision.  My partner and I always wanted to use a known donor and have someone who wanted to be a part of the bigger picture.  We met our donor, who I’ll call Ben for the purposes of this article, on a website designed to link up sperm donors with single women and same-sex couples keen to start a family.  It was a lot like a dating website, complete with profiles and photos.  But instead of looking for love, we were looking for someone who could help us make a baby and play a role in their life.

Eventually we met Ben and so began our journey.  It took us a year of talking to get to the point where we all agreed we wanted to get the ball rolling.  Fast forward another eighteen months and we were at the point of harvesting my eggs for the purposes of IVF.  The preceding months had been a roller coaster of failed attempts and an overwhelming fear that our dream of starting a family may never come to fruition.

The process to get to that point was long-winded to say the least.  We had to wade through what seemed like an endless array of red tape to commence IVF.  This included multiple counselling sessions with all parties to ensure we had considered every possible hypothetical.  It was hard to remain calm during these sessions, when all I could think of was the number of babies conceived without a moment’s thought or care. The exercise felt so rigid and academic, and this was not helped by the artificiality of the IVF process itself.  If ever I needed confirmation that I was making a considered decision, this was it.  By the time I was donning the white gown and going into theatre there could be no doubt in anyone’s mind that this child would be wanted and loved.

I remember the day of embryo transfer quite vividly.  I watched a tiny speck on the monitor as it was inserted into my womb, it literally looked like a black dot.  My partner remembers it as a little star in a black night sky.  As we left the clinic and walked out of the hospital into the harsh light of day I recall how surreal it all felt.  I never thought we’d be so lucky that this tiny bundle of cells would grow into my son.

At six weeks we thought we had lost our baby when I had an unexpected and large bleed.  We both cried tears of joy and relief when the ultrasound revealed a small shadow and within that the pulsing of a heart.  This baby was meant to be.

Fast forward to Christmas day, where I gave birth to my son at four minutes to midnight.  It was not the birthing experience that I had anticipated.  Looking back at the birth plan now I laugh in disbelief because the experience was so different to what we had wanted.  From my lofty notions of minimal intervention, soft lighting and Tibetan gongs playing in the background, the reality was at the other extreme.  I laboured for 22 hours and despite my best efforts, ended up having to have an epidural and emergency caesarean.  There are no words that can describe what it is like to hold your baby for the first time, I am sure all mothers will attest to this.  All the baby books in the world do their best to explain what birth is like but none capture the primal nature of holding your baby and staring into its eyes.

Post birth I became very unwell with complications from the surgery so I spent extra time in hospital.  The birth coupled with my poor health impacted on my ability to bond with my son.  He screamed incessantly, especially when I fed him on the breast.  This was very distressing, as I so wanted breastfeeding to be a beautiful experience, but it was much harder than I could ever have imagined.  It transpired that my son had reflux and was allergic to the proteins in my breastmilk.  So, eventually I had to give up and move onto formula which was a painful decision and there was a period of grieving involved.  At times it has felt like the cards have been stacked against me.

Thankfully I have a partner who is very supportive and understanding.  I have learnt to seek out the many support networks available to new mums.  I adore my son and my new family and for this my first mother’s day, I look forward to all the joy this new role will bring.