I am homosexual. Cathy too. We had been friends for fifteen years when the idea came up: to have a child together. We were confidants, accomplices, and bound by a faithful and deep understanding. I found Cathy sensitive, intelligent and tolerant. She found me benevolent, serious, original and stable. We were approaching XNUMX and for her, having a child was an unattainable dream. We each fell in love on our own, then we suffered the disappointments of stories that did not work. From time to time, we would say to each other while laughing: “Too bad we are not straight…”. And then one day, more seriously, Cathy asked me if I would feel ready to give birth to her. She was planning on looking for a donor, but first she asked me. For my part, I did not conceive of my life without fatherhood. So Cathy seemed like the perfect mother to the child I wanted too.
It was at this time that I met Marc, with whom I settled very quickly. Right away, I told him about the project that we were talking about, Cathy and I, and he understood it, admitted it, encouraged it too. For his part, he did not want to be a father, but understood that I felt the need. We took a year to take the plunge, the time for Cathy to also find herself in a relationship with Eva. Eva did not react like Marc to this announcement. Already, she was obsessed with the idea of a probable sexual intercourse between Cathy and me. We reassured her. We had approached this hypothesis before falling in love each on our side, then we had agreed that it was better to make this baby in vitro … Eva was then able to accept this project and think about the role she would play with the baby as a companion of Cathy. They also settled down together.
When Cathy got pregnant, we were drunk with joy. Marc was happy for me. Eva struggled a bit at first. Cathy confided to me, laughing: “She’s not the one who is pregnant and yet she spends her time having desires!” Cathy talked a lot with Eva, tactfully reminding her that this baby would have a father – me – and a mother – her. Eva understood quickly enough and succeeded, like Marc, in finding her place of support and companion. I was admiring the path she was able to travel in a very short time, accompanying Cathy without envying or reproaching her for anything. I then believed that everyone had found their place. The pregnancy was great. What a joy every time we went shopping, Cathy and I, organizing the baby’s two bedrooms! One per household, it was going well …
On the day of the birth, Cathy called me and I asked Marc to accompany me to the maternity ward. Eva was there, she stroked Cathy’s hair. Seeing me, there was a blur in Cathy’s eyes. But Eva left the room and gave me room. It was I who entered the delivery room alongside Cathy.
Cathy started to joke and I felt comfortable in my role of best friend who sets the mood between two contractions. We shook hands very hard when the baby came. She wanted to call him Vincent, I said yes.
And then, suddenly, things changed. Our son was born, and hell, for me, began. The next morning, when I arrived at the maternity ward, Eva was already there, the baby in her arms. Cathy took pictures of them. I hugged my son and felt a lot of violence in Cathy’s gaze, while Eva didn’t seem to take offense at anything. For the first time in our old friendship, Cathy assaulted me. In a sharp voice, she asked me to return the baby to her and go wash my hands.
We had decided that she would have full custody for the first two years, but that I would have unlimited visitation rights. I wasn’t going to take the infant away from his mother, of course, but she treated me like I might. At first, I listened to Marc and blamed Cathy’s mood swings on childbirth. But every time I called her to warn her that I was going to come by, she would ask me to postpone my visit, using the pretext of anything. To see me with her baby in my arms just drove her crazy. Vincent was 2 months old when she yelled at me: “But get out!” I don’t want you to come anymore! “. It was my baby too, and I screamed too.
Finding it unbearable to see my son only in the presence of his mother, I demanded to see him at my house. But she opposed it. I couldn’t see myself snatching it from her arms, so I kept arching my back and bumping into his closed door, for fear I would never see Vincent again. Sometimes she would open the door, send me to wash my hands, then put our son on my lap, checking that I was holding him correctly and repeating to him: “Don’t worry, I’m here, he’ll be out soon.” ‘go ! “. I tried to talk to her, but she had become unreachable. She could only answer one thing: “Vincent doesn’t need a father, I’m here.” ”
I ended up calling Eva who admitted to sharing my point of view, but could not reason with her. So I had to go through a mediator, then a lawyer, to assert my rights. And that’s how Vincent was entrusted to me every other weekend and half of the vacation.
Our bond was wonderful. But I didn’t have any with his mother anymore. Through Eva, I knew the situation was not right for her. She suffered from Vincent’s absence when he was with me. So I took a step towards her, inviting her to come see him whenever she wanted. She didn’t say anything, but it touched her.
Vincent is now 5 years old and I would like to obtain shared custody. My lawyer thinks I have every chance. But I don’t want to ask the judge for it. I ask Cathy. I’m a good dad, and she knows it. Our son adores me. Yesterday, Cathy asked me if we could instead imagine a turnover every four days. I agreed to think about it. She finally understood that our son also needs a father. I hope she will now understand that he also needs parents who get along … I trust.
Interview by Jessica Busseaume