Lesbian Dad

Some questions about connectedness

Look at that lil’ beefcake. He knows he’s got me right there, in the palm of his tiny hand.

Love him so much it drives me up a tree. Did so from jump. Can’t begin to figure out how the lack of my biological connection is diminishing this love. Can’t begin to figure that. Would I lunge in front of a truck to snatch him from danger any faster if he issued from my loins? Dunno! Don’t want to have to find out. Would the loss of him feel greater? Again, don’t want to have to find out. (But since our innocence in those matters has been lost, it’s not like the thought doesn’t skitter across the brain. I try to keep it skittering on past.)

Would my joy at his happinesses taste sweeter, had I carried and birthed him? I’ll never know. Or wait, here we go: would our bond be more true, if, say, though I didn’t birth him (no father ever has), I knew he was carrying the story of my family in his cells? If I looked at his face and saw my own reflected back?*

As if. Ask every adoptive parent. Ask every step-parent. Ask me.

Look at him. Every baby makes you love them. They’re masters at it. Like the lack of biological connection is going to be any shield. Smell their skin! Programmed to drive you crazy nuts! How do people go about hypothesizing that malarkey, biology über alles? Have they met people like me? Have they seen what babies like this can do?

*Instead, I look at his face and see my love reflected back. That’s the thing.

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