Our Queer Family

The journey of two men in love and conception, along with their plucky 4-year-old daughter, dog and two cats.

[ourqueerfamily-blog]

Today, I am truly a king amongst men.

I got my daughter to eat broccoli mac & cheese...my picky girl who will usually eat NEITHER. 😎

[moodsonboards]

[ourqueerfamily-blog]

My daughter is so cute she just makes me melt. "Abba, when you were a little boy, did you like Barbie's dream house, too?" Yes, sweet baby. I love everything you love and as far as I'm concerned, I always did.

[mundo-dos-bebes]

[ithelpstodream]

[positivity-roses]

“The white female cashier started asking Sophia a lot of weird questions, like if she was going to a birthday party. The mom and daughter stared back confused.

“She then pointed to the doll and asked Sophia if she picked her out for a friend. Sophia continued to stare blankly and I let the cashier know that she was a prize for Sophia being fully potty trained,” Benner said.

If that wasn’t bad enough, the cashier couldn’t just let it go.“Are you sure this is the doll you want, honey?” she asked Sophia.

Sophia replied, “Yes, please!”

The cashier then said, “But she doesn’t look like you. We have lots of other dolls that look more like you.”Benner rightfully became angry, but before she could reply, straight from the mouth of a babe came the most perfect reply.

Sophia responded, “Yes, she does. She’s a doctor like I’m a doctor. And I’m a pretty girl and she’s a pretty girl. See her pretty hair? And see her stethoscope?”

Toddler’s Response to Cashier About a Doll With a Different Skin Tone Is Perfect

[ourqueerfamily-blog]

Bloodwork Results

In what comes as a total shock to no one, I'm still critically anemic after the two blood transfusions and OTC iron supplements. Somewhat more surprisingly, I'm very calcium deficient and have an overactive thyroid. Starting Hemocyte Plus and Caltrate, with a follow up in a week to discuss iron transfusions and a care plan for my thyroid.

[atx-nerd-mom]

For me, losing a pregnancy was difficult. But what was surprisingly harder, in some ways, was being pregnant again after this loss. All around me, friends were happily announcing their pregnancies, throwing showers, dreaming of their children’s future. I wanted to feel joyful about my pregnancy. But deep down, I was terrified. Between the constant fear of things I couldn’t control – and obsessing over those factors I thought I could – I was a wreck for nine months.

5 Ways Pregnancy After a Miscarriage Is Different | Meredith Hale (via atx-nerd-mom)

[bideogaymes]

Before I left Dolezal, I remembered that my editors had told me to make sure the photographer got a few pictures of us together. We were both sitting at the kitchen table, which provided an ideal photo opportunity. The natural light from the sliding door by the kitchen was great for photography, but with our current seating arrangement, that light was falling on me and leaving her in the shadow. It is standard practice to have the interviewee sit in the best light, so I asked her to switch seats. The photographer thanked me for the suggestion, and I stood to allow Dolezal to take the chair I had been in. Dolezal looked at me with a smirk and said accusingly: “Then you’ll look darker and I’ll look lighter, because the light’s on me. I get it.” I realized that like all other black people who had challenged Dolezal, I had been written off as a bitter, petty black woman. She was concerned that the wrong lighting would make her look white. She could not see that there was no amount of lighting that would make her look whiter than that interaction had. Perhaps that itself was the secret to the power of the Dolezal phenomenon—the overwhelming whiteness of it all.

The Heart of Whiteness: Ijeoma Oluo Interviews Rachel Dolezal, the White Woman Who Identifies as Black (via astrobleme22)

[thelittlestdarlings]

Our Instagram week!

Follow us @dearlittlelucas 😘😘

[momcode-blog1]

[ourqueerfamily-blog]

I'm so sorry for disappearing.

I was a mess. I still am, but now I can stop crying long enough to pickup a smartphone and talk to folks. I'm healthy enough to do that, too, even if anemia is still kicking my ass. But I'm back.

[ourqueerfamily-blog]

I'm recovering. I'm cranky af I've been waiting 15 hours for my blood transfusion and nurses keep waking me up to be surprised at how low my blood pressure is. It's low because I almost bled to death and my doctor ordered two bags of blood at 4 pm yesterday. I arrived here at Lake Pointe Hospital by ambulance after passing out on the floor due to blood loss during my miscarriage. My husband saved my life. My last words were, "I don't need to go to the hospital; we can't afford an ambulance." (I'll write out that story a little later.) So I arrive, instead of at the hospital 1.8 miles from my house that has an entire maternity wing, or a few exits away at my OB's hospital, but the hospital 8 miles away that is not on the bus system, oh, and which killed my grandmother while waiting for supplies to be ordered. If I had been less blood deprived, I'd have argued or walked to another hospital myself. But, I arrived with a hemoglobin level of 3, which has a 54% mortality rate, so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ But my original team in the emergency ward was kind, good, helpful. The preop team for my emergency D&C was kind beyond measure. My incredibly awesome doctor ordered two bags of blood just before 4 pm and they carried my bed upstairs to a private room. He said it can take a while, so expect to spend the night and return home in the morning. Now, each bag of blood takes 4 hours to transfuse, which means that I'll need 8 hours. This could have, presumably taken place overnight. Now, even though I got fuck all for sleep due to being woken for blood pressure regularly (still low? no shit!), I can expect to be here and awake for 8 hours from whatever point they give me my blood.

[ourqueerfamily-blog]

I started spotting midday yesterday. I already knew then I’d have to come in within 72 hours for a Rhogam shot because I’m AB- and my husband is O+.

I’ve been cramping so hard, but at first there was almost no blood. I felt restless, then exhausted, moving my hips into the intense cramping, trying to get some relief. I got some sleep for a little while, woke up again still bleeding. I’m achy and raw. Everything hurts especially my heart. I’ve already started to grieve, but I’m still not ready for this.

I can make it through this. It can’t last forever.

[borntooearlyborntoosmall]

[dysphcria]

Visit Original Link

[ourqueerfamily-blog]

I know it's over And it never really began But in my heart it was so real

[ourqueerfamily-blog]

Tw: loss

I could not feel more lost than I do now. I feel ashamed to admit I’m not dealing with this well and guilty, sure that this is somehow my fault. No heartbeat. 11w1d. Like a timebomb, just waiting to go off, I’m waiting for…what did my doctor say? I’m waiting for “nature to take its course”. She was kind. I have nothing bad to say about her - I saw my loss in her face before I even felt it. Harvey. We were sure he’d be a boy. I guess we’ll never know. Ben is heartbroken. I feel him still, I feel my swollen abdomen and I think of the way I felt taking my vitamins and getting my protein. My growing boy. It hurts so much. No one will ever miss him but us. No one will ever think of him, but us.

My mother’s first words: “But you’re going to keep trying, right?”

No. What? This wasn’t a try. This was my baby. I don’t care if anyone else believes it. I don’t ever want to feel like this again. I don’t know if I could ever… I can’t even put it into words. I’m sorry. I thought I could eloquently explain the gaping hole that opened up inside me, but I feel stupid and fumbling. I wish nothing but the best for everyone.