As new parents everyday seems to come with an exciting and unfamiliar first, or another a-ha moment. One of those a-ha moments came recently when it was time to have our son’s vaccinations updated. I’m personally in favour of disease prevention, but I’m on the fence about the sheer number of vaccines they administer at once (that’s for an entirely different rant though). This a-ha moment came courtesy of the vaccination clinic staff that were all really lovely and kind, but would also make outstanding henchmen for any super villain.
In hindsight, I should have planned for chaos. When I made the appointment the scheduler had a barrage of mundane questions related to our son, his past health records, and then – to my astonishment – some very personal questions about my husband and I. She couldn’t seem to wrap her head around the fact that we have different last names, but are married and have the legal parental rights for our son, who is also legally our nephew. I actually found it amusing, as I had to break it down for the poor dear a couple of times. The soap opera quality of our family’s story isn’t lost on me at all, so I get that it can take people a few minutes to process it. Oh the drama of life!
Upon arriving at the clinic a few days later, we were greeted by a very polite receptionist and asked to fill out the requisite stack of paperwork. I’d brought all of our legal documents too, figuring a judge’s orders would be sufficient to answer any questions about parentage and guardianship. As I anticipated, after giving her the paperwork, her first question was why we had different last names, and who was Greg?
Now, to be honest, I didn’t have an issue with being asked about our situation; I planned on it. What made me furious was the way she cocked her head and smirked at me as she smarmily said the love of my life’s name. It wasn’t even in a judgy or preachy way; it was a seriously amazed look – like she had just seen a unicorn. In my head I was saying, yes bitch, I’m married to a man and this is our son; welcome to 2014, but in reality I just smiled as she processed it.
Anyone who’s gay and married, with or without kids, has experienced this and it’s embarrassing, demeaning and, for me, infuriating.
A-ha! There it was, the moment I hate to my very core every time it comes up. Being made to explain intimate details of my private life for the benefit of a naïve straight person, just because our family doesn’t look like theirs. Then, just like she had actually bitch slapped me, a wave of contempt washed over me, along with an impulse to light this chick up like a Christmas tree. Of course I also knew she was just doing her job, and I liked her pretty pink sweater and charcoal pencil skirt, so I politely explained that Greg was my husband, and our son came to us through a complicated family drama which had recently been resolved in Family Court. With that, she took everything saying she needed to make copies, and directed me to the changing area where a nurse would call us. Naively, I thought to myself, that’s great; we’ll be out of here in no time. Boy was I wrong.
It took just a few minutes for the nurse to call our names, and while I was putting my boy on the scale, she launched into the exact same line of questioning; only this time asking pointed questions about his biological parents and why they weren’t there. Again, I had to stop myself from going all Lindsay Lohan on her, and politely explained our situation again. My answers seemed to appease her, and after the measuring, weighing, and temperature taking, we were asked to step into an exam room where a doctor would see us.
After waiting for quite a while, I peeked out of the room to see what was going on and was startled to see the receptionist, nurse, and who I would discover was the doctor, down the hall with their heads together and the nurse pointing in the direction of our exam room. I leapt back into the room like a club kid hit by the morning sun. Moments later the door opened and the woman I saw in the hall confidently stepped in and introduced herself as the doctor. I introduced my son and, before I could get even a single question out, I was asked to explain the relationship with my husband and son for the third time within an hour. This time I even had to point out the exact judge’s orders on the documents as all three of these ladies somehow overlooked that part and seemed pretty convinced that I was some sort of outlaw homosexual vaxxer.
In the end, my beautiful baby boy got his shots that day, and I didn’t go to jail, or even say anything I’d regret later. It was a learning moment though, as I’ve come to the conclusion that although we’ve come so very far in terms of the legalities of equality, the sociological and cultural sides still have a long way to catch up. As a result, my husband and I have now decided to change all of our names in the hopes of avoiding this kind of thing down the road. I’ll keep you posted.
Share your stories and questions with me at parentingproud@gmail.com. I’d love to hear how others are dealing with the unique issues and situations we face as gay families.
