Coming out to my mother was a long, arduous process. I spent many long nights tossing and turning, thinking about what I would say or how she would react when I told her I was gay. Little did I know that would be a piece of cake in comparison to ten years later, when I told her my wife and I were trying for a baby. I told her I would be carrying the baby, and perhaps unthinkingly, she suggested using one of my two brothers as a sperm donor.
I still get chills just thinking about it.
I know what you’re thinking: my mother had good intentions, and I know that. IVF is expensive, and nontraditional options are definitely on the table for us. However, the idea that I would ever use my blood brother’s semen to impregnate me is the most devastating thing I have ever heard. I have had nightmares about it ever since.
Even though she got a clear “no” as well as a resounding “absolutely not” from my wife and me, my mother then proposed her own plan of action after saying, “Hear me out.” We did hear her out, and now my wife and I haven’t had sex in a week because every time we try, I remember that my mother thinks it is ethical and logical to put my brother’s ejaculate inside of me and I just curl up in a ball, asking “Why would she think that is okay?”
To all the women out there dealing with moms thinking backhanded incest makes sense, I urge you to read her most recent message to me that said, “Imagining my grandbabies every night in my sleep, you and your brother’s best collaboration yet.” To be clear, the only thing we’ve ever collaborated on is a mix tape for my mother’s birthday when we were in high school.
Maybe you feel that you would laugh this off, but you wouldn’t, because you’re not remembering that this was about my brother. Ultimately, I do love the idea of having a mini-me running around, but I would rather have a toad inseminate me than have my brother give me a tub of his.
