This is a story about my family. Not my parents and brother and his family in Western Australia, but my family in Sydney.
Back in August 2000, I met a wonderful woman when I started a new job. We were introduced by our mutual friend Sonja who said “you must look up Louisa – you will love her”. She was right. It wasn’t long before I met Louisa’s partner Kerri and we all quickly became great mates.
In 2005, after much debate, Louisa and Kerri decided that they wanted to have a child together. However, there was the small issue of a bloke and his necessary contribution. The girls weighed up the pros and cons of a sperm bank or a known donor, and eventually decided that someone they knew would be best. For two reasons – family medical history; and so that when any child asked “who’s my daddy”, they could point to someone and say “him”.
So they asked me. My immediate gut reaction was “of course – the girls would make wonderful parents”, but perhaps I should think about this a bit more. So we talked. A lot. We used an excellent document called “Talking Turkey” put together by the Inner City Legal Centre which outlined dozens of issues we needed to discuss. From that, we put together our own agreement that outlined the dos and don’ts, the wills and won’ts of what we would do if we had a child. The girls’ expectations matched mine, so we signed on the dotted line and started this amazing journey.
Zara was born less than a year later, ironically on Father’s Day. As the due date approached (and passed!), Kerri (the co-parent) and I had a number of conversations about how we would feel when this baby was born. What would I feel when I saw her/him for the first time? Would Kerri bond with this child? And a thousand others. Luckily for us, what we hoped and expected would happen when Zara finally arrived did happen.