Human Interest
2 min

Everything you always wanted to know about lesbian pregnancy but were afraid to ask

I like Woody Allen. I loved watching him
dressed up as a nerdy sperm with serious performance anxiety in Everything You Always Wanted to Know About Sex* (*But Were Afraid to Ask). In a few simple strokes, he paints a broad picture of
our sexual rituals and desires. 

I am going to attempt to do the same for
lesbians getting pregnant. FYI: the following may be based on real events, but . . . it's fiction. 

Scene
1:

A young woman with large glasses and short
brown hair picks up her cellphone.

“Hello, Mom. There’s something I want to
tell you.”

“Oh my God,” responds Ms Delarosa, a
divine creature never a day older than 48 and prone to dramatization.

“Mom. The condom broke. Tara’s pregnant.”

And that is how some lesbians break the
news to their parents.

Scene
2:

Scene
3:

While on lunch break from sitting on a
chair and poking friends on Facebook all morning, a few co-workers head to the
cafeteria for a baby shower. Margaret has been working with them for years, and
everyone knows her partner, Louise, is pregnant.

“So,” boasts Tom, the department clown.
“What’s up, daddy?”

“Oh! Tom!” cuts in Carmen, a politically
correct francophone in menopause (an important detail). “She’s not the daddy. The dad is anonymous.”

In her confusion, Margaret steps in.
“Actually Carmen,” she declares. “The donor
is anonymous. I am the daddy!”

Later that night, Margaret confesses to her
partner that she’s afraid the baby won’t love her and that she cannot pretend
to be a man.

Scene
4:

After four attempts and failures, Bobby and
Clara express their sorrow to Dr Redmann, head of the Ottawa Fertility Clinic.

“Next time we’ll try with Clara, yes?” he
asks.

“What?”

“Bobby you’re 35,” he says. “Clara, you
have 40 percent more chance of getting pregnant.”

“Our bodies are not interchangeable,” Clara says scornfully, aware of the guilt her girlfriend has been feeling lately.

The doctor’s face remains blank. “I’m
sorry, of course,” he says, his features softening. “Ms Cunningham, my
apologies. God willing you will be pregnant next time.”

Clara’s wrists clench. Is this man a
complete idiot? She wants to give him a piece of her mind – maybe even take it
outside – but instead she remains calm, listens to his closing speech on
statistics, thanks him politely and prepares herself to reassure Bobby.

TO BE
CONTINUED . . . 

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