Ben Holladay-McCann shares some of the challenges he and his husband face as gay men building their family. Read how they decided which option was best for them and how creating art is playing a role in their quest to become parents. Thanks, Ben, for sharing your story!

Launch Point
by Ben Holladay-McCann

From a young age, I knew that fatherhood was something I aspired to. The fact that I’m gay never phased me or stood out as an obstacle to achieving that dream. Sure, I knew it would be a challenge — the scales are tipped in favor of heterosexual people – though I’ve always been of the mind that any journey worth dreaming about is a journey worth taking, no matter the odds.

Ben (right) with husband Erik. Photo by Kendra Stanley-Mills.

Erik, my husband, shares my dream of raising children together. At first, we had explored the idea of adoption, which, though an awesome and noble avenue to take, can prove hugely challenging for LGBT folks. Most countries outside the U.S. will not adopt to gay parents. In a strange twist of happenstance, the governor of Michigan signed legislation permitting faith-based adoption agencies to discriminate against LGBT parents not long before we relocated to Colorado. Our home state is not unique in that regard, as several other states allow the application of the petitioning couple to be denied based upon nothing more their sexual orientation.

Though adoption was quickly removed from the table, we uncovered a new and more fundamental truth that lived deep within us; holding a genetic relation to our child was of greater importance to us than we had first known. With that in mind, having a child through IVF via gestational carrier as the path to parenthood was the only logical option for us.

Making the decision to pursue that route was the easy part, though it is not without its own unique set of challenges. Like so many others, our biggest roadblock was attached to the price tag. I remember staring slack-jawed at the full sum once everything had been tallied up. The total cost of IVF treatments is positively eye-watering. Resources to lighten the load do exist, though the majority are geared towards heterosexual couples. Most applications for grants or financial assistance list “husband” and “wife” on the form, rather than “partner’s name”. Even “Parent 1” and “Parent 2” would work in a Suessical pinch.

To complicate matters further, information about LGBT-inclusive adoption agencies can be tricky to find. Surely you can understand our sheer joy when we found an aptly named organization that exclusively helps gay men who want to have a child through IVF – “Men Having Babies”. Using the tools on their website, we poured over all available information and researched many different organizations nationwide before selecting InVia Fertility, out of Chicago. With that important line crossed off, we could turn attention back to the elephant in the room: how make this happen financially. As money savvy as we fancy ourselves to be, our piggy banks wouldn’t provide enough of a springboard on their own. We had to broaden our sights to help make this dream real.

Ben and Erik, surrounded by loved ones. Photo by Kendra Stanley-Mills.

Education is an important component of any fundraising effort, and we are not unique in that regard. As a part of this process, we have sought to bring awareness and information to our friends and family. Try as we have, however, some have made the assumption that adoption, rather than IVF, is the end goal. On more than one occasion, well-intentioned people have asked “what country will you adopt your child from?” or “have you met the birthmother yet”? We are surrounded by people brimming with excitement for us to become fathers, though some may be unaware of the complicated nature this road holds for us. Launching a crowdfunding site hosted by YouCaring.com has provided an effective platform to keep our loved ones up-to-date on our journey while serving to dispel any mysteries surrounding IVF and what that looks like for us.

Ben’s passion for knitting is helping build his family. Photo by Erik Holladay-McCann.

More creative means of capital generation are also supplementing our crowdfunding efforts. I have been a knitting hobbyist for years, though this new adventure of ours provided me the push to begin selling finished works and patterns of my own design, under the brand “NoahNoa Crafts”. Though a seemingly unusual brand title, it was born from the love that my husband and I have held for the name, Noah, for years. When translated from its original Hebrew roots, it embodies “comfort”, while its feminine variant, Noa, signifies movement. It only seemed a natural fit, as those are two qualities I love most about knitting, and hope to model to the children we bring into the world. While getting a small start-up such as this off the ground can be time-consuming and occasionally stressful, it is ultimately rewarding, which is not entirely different from parenthood.

Follow Ben and Erik’s family building progress on You Caring and shop NoahNoa Crafts.

Today, May 18, is Infertility Advocacy Day. This year, RESOLVE: The National Infertility Association, is teaming up with the American Society for Reproductive Medicine. Nearly 250 constituents have gathered from around the country to fight for improvements for those living with infertility. Long-time advocate, Risa Levine, is among them and shares this message with us as today’s guest blogger.

To my fellow advocates,

We are at a strange place in our history for women of our generation.  After the dormancy of the post Viet Nam war era, we are finally seeing a reawakening of political consciousness, a resurgence of social activism in an era when most public engagement has been reserved for Super Bowl ticker tape parades. We are seeing people take to the streets outside government offices, we are seeing hundreds of thousands of women marching all over the country. And we are seeing crumbs of response. Bill O’Reilly is history. That’s something.

Most of us don’t remember the sixties, a time of anti war protests, suspicion of government, overthrowing of a well established social order. A time when “burn your bra” was not just a symbol or catchphrase, but a revolutionary, engaged act of actual resistance to social norms that far eclipsed the message attempted to be sent by wearing knitted pink pussy caps.

But for the most part, the resistance agenda has been reactionary, one of anger, fiery Roman candles in the night. An affirmative legislative agenda has not quite yet been identified and the methodology has been murky. This era of #resistance was triggered by one man, and the mistreatment of one woman. But there are myriad inequities that have been brewing for a long time. Occupy Wall Street reflected those divisions but failed to achieve meaningful change beyond sloganeering. Similarly, the signs at all of the recent marches range from reproductive rights to immigration to LGBT rights to guns – while all require respect for people, the only proposed solution, dump trump, doesn’t address the underlying problems.   “Resistance” alone, is not solutions-based.

Risa wth Gloria Steinem, her first role model, getting out the vote in PA

Anger – when properly directed – is good. Anger can be motivating. Anger can spur people to turn off the TV and take to the streets. But that “fight or flight” adrenaline response to anger without proper outlets, a cogent agenda and a clear end goal, can become unhealthy. And unrequited. The problem with resistance, like the mantra of the 60s, “never trust anyone over the age of 30,” is that it will, by definition, fail, as the aging process is scientific fact.

While our efforts to address the fundamental unfairness that is experienced by infertility patients should be – and because of some of our advocates’ efforts sometimes is – an issue for #resistance, it is more an exercise in Persistence. A diagnosis of infertility IS a pre-existing condition that could bar one from obtaining health insurance if the House legislation were to pass the Senate, but even the most liberal outlets neglect to include infertility on their comprehensive list of diseases that would bar infertility patients from coverage: we have much work to do to educate even our natural allies. Let’s not forget that.

However, when we hit Capitol Hill, we aren’t coming only from a place of adrenaline-producing anger. Anger at the unfairness, sure. But we aren’t acting merely in opposition to the current zeitgeist. We aren’t seeking confrontation. And we aren’t simply fighting a misogynist agenda. We are promoting education, family values, long term protection and science.  We are seeking to right a wrong practiced by both parties for decades. We are in it for the long game.  We are fighting for families. For traditional values reinforced by modern scientific advances. Love and Science, hand in hand. We must be above partisanship. We are above the divisions in this country. We personify Persistence.

Risa with Hillary Clinton in New York City: Discussing Matters of State.

Whatever your personal feelings about where we are at this very, very historical juncture, on May 18, stay focused on the positive. We are advocating FOR something. For more rights for ourselves and for our families. For future families.  For our military. For the safety and integrity of our bodies. We come in peace – we simply need to know that our health concerns are being addressed. We do and we will exercise our voting rights if we aren’t heard, but we come as constituents with problems that Congress can address. Ask them for their support. But don’t leave without their understanding.

Today’s post is from Maria’s Mother, Therese. Thank you, Therese, for sharing with us.

The Art of Balance: Loss and Love
by Therese Novotny

When Maria asked me to write a blog post for Mother’s Day, I gladly agreed, but the task was thornier than I thought. As her mother, it is difficult to talk about infertility because I never know what to say. My words get mixed with love, longing, and loss.

The day after Maria was born, her Aunt Joanne brought a small bouquet of Brown-eyed Susans to my room. Those yellow petals always remind me of Maria. Nearly 25 years later, she planted some in her back yard in Grand Rapids. When I helped her move from that house for Kevin’s new job, she left the flowers behind, but more seriously, she left behind a dream of raising children there. That dream had not been fulfilled, despite all their painful, heartfelt efforts. It was a loss.

Therese with Maria on her first birthday.

The art of balancing Maria’s trauma, supporting her needs against five other children, is difficult.

First, my background is full of big families. I embrace the interests of all of my children, their friends and spouses. Even though my life on the outside looks traditional in the extreme (suburban, white, Catholic, middle aged, mother, wife), I am very curious about how other people choose to live out their lives. I’m very open to other life choices and respect them – and it often gets me into trouble.

Maybe this is the wrong thing to say, but I don’t understand Maria and Kevin’s need to have a child of their own. I enjoyed feeling a baby kick inside my body and giving birth to a new tiny person, but there are other ways to give birth. You can give birth to an organization, or nurture a latent talent within yourself, or adopt a child who deserves loving parents. Many women who have birthed children have severely neglected themselves, their talents, or even others around them… and that is also a loss.

Finally, I feel helpless because I can’t help them change their infertility. I need to find new avenues of support. I can support them in their new home, their upcoming projects, their dogs, and their careers. I have been in situations where I can change some things, where I need to advocate and change and struggle. But some things I can’t change. I need to know the difference. I’ve learned to grow where I am planted, even if I can’t do very much.

After Easter, my father sent me a card of a famous Monet painting. I have always thought of Maria in that painting. She is the child standing in a lush field of flowers, so tiny, she blends among them. She is perfect. Why does she not see it?  She is part of a bouquet prepared for the world to enjoy.

Infertile couples are made to feel they are broken or incomplete. They feel cheated and scammed and misjudged. They are miserably misunderstood. They have a right to feel that way, but sometimes the broken, slashed parts of us are unavoidable.

At the risk of saying the wrong thing, I offer the well-known parable of the broken bucket.

In a small village in China, a man collected his water from the river, which was about a mile from his hut. Each morning, he attached two buckets over each side of a long pole, which balanced over his shoulder like a yolk. The bucket hanging from the left side retained all the water, but the one on the right was cracked and full of small holes.  When he returned home, the bucket on the left had not lost a single drop, but the bucket on the right had leaked half its contents, with half dripping through the cracks.

One day, the sturdy bucket taunted the cracked bucket jeering, “I am the real bucket here. I do what needs to be done, while you are a broken piece of junk. You just cause the man sorrow because you can barely bring back half the water, and still, you make the man carry you. You are mostly a burden to him. You are just a sorry excuse for a bucket. ”

The man overheard this one day, when he was eating his meal.

So the next day, he carried the broken bucket outside to clean it, and the bucket said, “Why do you keep me? You know I don’t carry all the water home. Am I worth all the effort?”

Touching the holes in the bucket’s side, the man said, “Every day when I carry you to the river, I take the same path. Sometimes the heat is unbearable. But, do you ever notice the flowers growing on the side of the path? They bring me such joy. I’ve always known you had leaks and holes. I always carried you on my the right side. That way, I knew you watered the flowers. In spring, the shoots to grow. Eventually, I see the leaves, and then the petals unfold; I smell the perfume of their scent, and I see beetles climb into the leaves for shade. The other pot – he only brings me water, but you – you bring me joy.”

Maria and Therese today.

My hope for my daughter, as she struggles with the raw sadness of infertility, and as she hears the voices of those who make her feel broken, is that she is perfect… she is my joy. She is a flourishing part of our vast family garden. Love has surrounded her for years, and will only continue to enfold her.