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“Are you mad?” she asks after the silence stretches too long.
The ‘reason for name change portion’ on my form is identical to hers. So that I may share the same last name as that of my children and that of my life partners.
So simple. So true.
Did you know that six states currently allow more than two parents to be listed on a birth certificate? More than a dozen states have similar proposals working their way through their Chamber of Congress.
On top of that, several other states, New York included, will allow for multiple parents if specific requirements are met. We meet the requirements. (New York is special though, because one court district will allow it and the other won't.) Massachusetts, currently the only state that legally recognizes triads, issued its first three-parent birth certificate just last year. In California, three men in a long-term committed partnership share two children, gifted with the help of one egg donor and two surrogates. They took the state to court. They fought and won the right for all three men to be listed on both children’s birth certificates. The children are half-siblings, sharing the same biological mother, fathered by two of the three men.*
“I’m—”
My throat clogs, and I clear it roughly before I tilt my entire body to meet my wife’s nervous gaze.
“I’m speechless, Jules. When did you do all this?”
“But you’re not mad?” she presses, ignoring my question to satisfy her own.
My huff of laughter sounds nervous, but I’m not. I’m…deliriously happy.
“Why would I be mad?”
I can’t decide what to look at. Her, or the remarkable papers in my hands, asking the courts to allow us to share our name with Remi. It’s basic. It’s almost meaningless these days. More and more women are keeping their maiden names. Men are changing their last names to take their wives.
I’ve even heard of couples creating new last names together.
Hell, the three of us have already spent hours pouring over the subject of names, arguing and poking fun at each other about what to call the child growing inside of Julia. I’ve done hours of research to ensure that our daughter will know, legally and emotionally, that she has three parents who would die to keep her happy and healthy.
We’ve already started on the paperwork with the courts, and though the likelihood of it ever happening is laughable, we submitted parenting agreements that blandly state our co-parenting plans should the three of us ever split up.
But somehow, in all of that, it hadn’t occurred to me to change my name too.
Yet Julia has had these papers for weeks now.
Her voice is trembling.
“Because…because a wife is expected to take her husband’s last name. I couldn’t wait to take your name. I wanted so badly to be your wife and be forever by your side and now…now I want to add another man’s last name to ours.”
I laugh again, so tight it might be the beginning of a sob.
“Lancaster-Williams.” I keep the papers in my hands but pivot my body so that I’m facing Jules directly. “I made Remi say that over and over while you were in surgery. Lancaster-Williams. Lancaster-Williams. A little baby girl Lancaster-Williams.”
I always knew it would be a girl. Always.
“So you’re not mad?” she tries to clarify.
Gods.
“At last count, that man has already suckered two wedding bands out of me. He’s the biological father of my first born child, and currently making a food run for my legally recognized wife, all while sporting my teeth marks on his ass. No, baby girl. I’m not mad. I’m—”
I drop the papers on top of the envelope and take both of her hands in mine.
“I’m so in awe of you, Julia. Do you have any idea the gift you’re giving to him? The gift you’re giving to us? When Remi finds out you’ve done this,” my face splits into an achingly sweet smile. “He’s going to have kittens, baby girl. He’s probably going to burst into tears.”
I’m having difficulty not crying myself.
“I figured,” she says in a trembling, soft voice. “The weight of his last name has always been such a burden for him to carry, that maybe we could help lighten the load.”
Shit.
