Country life: Breaking the prejudice

Old blog for new readers..


So following on from the birth of our Son, Wil, who was the first baby ever to be born to a gay couple (us) by a UK surrogate (my wonderful sister), following a change in the law, we try to settle into family life (see previous blogs for full story). Instead a move is forthcoming and a challenge on our own prejudices…

We settled into parenthood with suprising ease,  reiterating to me that we could not only do this, but could actually be good at it. Wil really was a contented baby, and still is a contented child. He ate, played and slept well, and stuck to a rough 3 hour routine. This didn’t seem to change whether he was at home or out and about. Oh, and to the frustration of a few Mums we know, he slept through the night from about 6 weeks. We can’t really take…

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A bittersweet occasion: The boy is ours


We had some amazing news yesterday. Our youngest son is now officially ours! Its been a long journey which has sometimes been tough, sometimes scary. But always worth it.  The courts awarded us the adoption order and we couldn’t be happier.

To be honest though, it’s felt like he’s ours forever – always a risky feeling to have when dealing with adoption – after all until that adoption order is granted, nothing is set in stone. But you can’t help what the heart feels and our hearts have loved him for a long time now. Thankfully, we can breathe a sigh of relief, boy three is ours. He’s stuck with us!

In a way though, it’s a bittersweet moment. I can’t even begin to pretend that there aren’t two people out there who are feeling an overwhelming loss at our gain. His birth parents.

You know, when we first entered into the adoption arena – this is our second time adopting – the one thing I never really considered was the feelings of the birth parents. I just always assumed that they wouldn’t deserve their child anymore. That they had given up that right through their choices and actions. I know that sounds harsh, but my role as a police officer has put me in contact with so many parents, and I use that term in the technical sense of the word, who just couldn’t give a shit about their kids. Parents who would always put themselves first. Their drugs first. Their drink first. Their chaotic lives first. Anything but their child first . The one thing that really needs them. Their children would be neglected or abused or both. Under-fed and under-clothed, their parents next fix more important than their kids next meal.

Then there’s the other, more common, yet almost equally undeserving group. The ones who had their kids as a meal ticket. A means to a bigger flat. A steady ‘income’. Once the kid had done the trick they become a nuisance, an obstacle. Their kids become exposed to a completely unsuitable lifestyle. Inevitably becoming part of the same cycle as they grow, unable to avoid it, it’s what they know. It makes me so mad. These people who couldn’t care less about their children and yet fall pregnant at the drop of a hat. So unfair on the hundreds of loving couples out there who spend their lives, their savings, their health, their sanity in trying to conceive – often without success.    And then there’s people like us. People naturally unable to conceive and yet so sure, so determined that kids, a family, is what we want. Willing to do almost anything to make that desire a reality, to make parenthood a reality. Sometimes it’s soul destroying.  It’s hard not to judge sometimes.

So it was with this mind set that we initially entered into the adoption process. We believed that we would be adopting a child who’s parents no longer deserve to be able to ‘parent’ their child. That we would almost be the child’s saviours. In fact, that wasn’t how it was for either of the children we have adopted. You see both sets of their birth parents have varying levels of learning needs. They didn’t want to give their kids up. They just couldn’t look after them sufficiently or safely.  I struggled with this for quite a while. My perception of helping a child in need was almost shattered. Surely they didn’t deserve this.

It took me some time, but eventually I got my head around it. Clearly there was more to each case than the birth parents just being unable to support their children. There were recorded incidents of harm and neglect, whether intentional or not. Social services had offered intervention and support at every step. The birth parents were either unwilling or unable to make sufficient changes to their lives, even with support, that would mean that their child was raised in an environment where they were safe, loved, nurtured and developed. The paper trail showed us that social services had explored every avenue and done everything they could to enable these children to stay at home with their birth parents. Their support just wasn’t enough and ultimately I am in no doubt that being put up for adoption was in the best interest of each our children.

OK, so our children’s birth parents aren’t crack heads, alcoholics or child beaters. But I have no doubt that their children are in the right place with us now. But I would like to make a promise. A promise to our children and to their birth parents. We will never hide from our children where they have come from or the reasons behind it. We have had the privilege of meeting both of their birth parents. We will tell our children what lovely people they were, how warm and friendly despite the circumstances.  We will pass on their love and their letters as the years go by. And when the time comes, if it does, when they may wish to meet and form relationships with their birth parents we won’t stand in their way. Far from it. We’ll be there supporting them, helping them, guiding them every step of the way, because it’s the right thing to do, the only thing to do. We’ll do it with pride in our children. Confident that as their parents we will have given them a family that they are proud to be a part of. Confident that they will never doubt our love for them. Confident that they will always be our sons and we will always be their Dads.

Welcome to the family boy three.

A time to be honest: coming out Aqua style

Now that it’s been published in attitude magazine (available to buy digitally now. On shelves Wednesday) I can post the article….

Someone once said to me, when I was freshly out, that as a gay man you come out every day. Every new person you meet, every new job you get, every link you ever make; at some point during conversation the question will arise, “So what does your girlfriend do?” Or something similar. You see it’s no ones fault, but unfortunately we have a way to go before society see people as anything but ‘straight until proven gay’. Of course there are exceptions to this, if you fall into a particular stereotype of what is perceived to be gay,  it can work in the opposite way.

But that one defining coming out moment? To myself, it was when I was fourteen and started to experiment sexually with men. My experiments had me pretty convinced I was gay, but I also had a few girlfriends to make sure. I didn’t want to make a big proclamation that I was gay, until I was certain. It was a big step to take. With regard to girls, though I loved their company, I never enjoyed the sex. Men were so much better!

It wasn’t until I was seventeen though that I came out to my family. You see, it was when I was seventeen that I fell in love. Head over heels in love. With a man I’ll call John. He was handsome, kind, funny, and I was besotted. He was also twenty-one years older than me. I kept our relationship a secret for a while, but my feelings were so intense that I couldn’t contain it. Also, at the time, a great girl friend of mine started to show an interest in being more than my friend. It came to a head one night when, after a brilliant evening out with her, we went for a kebab. She started to come onto me and in a panic I blurted out that I was gay and in love with a man! After the initial shock, my friend was amazing and very supportive. Amusingly the rest of the patrons cheered my decleration, and arm in arm, my friend and I left. The next day though, because she worked with me, my friends and most of my family, I went back and told them I’d said it just to put her off. It feels cowardly now, but I wasn’t quite ready to be fully honest.

Over the next few months I slowly told my family. My mum first. She was cool with me being gay, after all she was in a relationship with a woman herself, since her marriage to my dad had broken down. Mum was most worried about me seeing an older guy, but trusted my judgement. I was more mature than my seventeen years and had always preferred the company of older people. Once she had met John, her worries faded completely.  I remember my middle sister Lorna found out purely by chance. I was on the phone to my boyfriend, in the bathroom at our family home.  Our relationship was very tempestuous and, in a state, I remember shouting, “But I love you John!” My sister overheard and ran down to my mum going “Oh my god!!” Mum explained to her that she knew and was cool with it. Lorna gave me a hug and told me she loved me whatever. Bit by bit I told the rest of my family. I was lucky, no one had an issue. We are a very accepting family and I felt very loved. My other sisters Lynda and Lorraine can’t even remember me coming out. It’s just who I was.

By this stage though I was getting confused who knew the truth, who didn’t, and who thought I was just pretending to distract my interested friend.  It was at the work Christmas party in 1998 that all the pretence got too much and, in a drunken blur, I stood up in the middle of the restaurant and shouted “Yes, I’m gay!!” I then remember Barbie Girl by Aqua coming onto the stereo. The way I boogied to that must have left no one in any doubt I was telling the whole truth now. I have never looked back since – though I no longer dance.

Inevitably, despite me being so in love, that first, tantalising relationship ended in 2001. It had run its course. It taught me a lot, but I realise it was never meant to last for ever. I’m glad to say we are still friends though.

Now, 16 years later, I am married to a truly wonderful man, who I believe I am meant to be with forever. Together we have 3 amazing children. I couldn’t be happier. I love being gay. I love life. I love my family.DSC_0119_20140609212012609

The adoption agency tells us ‘No!’


First I must apologise. My last blog on wanting more children left you on a bit of a cliff hanger. I never meant to leave it so long before writing this follow up. Sorry!
The thing is, we were turned down by the adoption agency initially. Not quite the words they used, but that was how it felt. It wasn’t exactly a no, more of a not yet. For us though,  it was still a not soon enough.
After we’d attended the adoption agencys’ information evening and signed to say yes! We want to adopt! We were assigned a social worker to complete an initial report on us.
We received a call from a lady from the adoption agency a few weeks later. She made an appointment to come and visit us at our home. As is my usual style, as the day approached I was nervous and fretting. What would she be like? What would she ask? Would she like us? What if I buggered it all up?!
We spent hours cleaning the house from top to bottom. Ivan baked cakes. I washed the dogs. It was more like we were trying to sell the house. In a way though, I guess we were trying to sell ourselves.
The evening she was due arrived in a haze of nervous excitement. This was the first real step to expanding our family. All we had to do was get this meeting out of the way and our journey would begin it’s next exciting leg. Or so we thought.
At the alloted time a formidable looking lady arrived at our home. I immediately felt like I was about to be interviewed by a governess. As is the true social services approach, we were grilled for hours. At least that’s how it felt.  We revealed all; who we were. Where we’re from. Our families, friends, loved ones. Our relationship history. What we were like as a couple. Where we lived, our neighbours, local amenities. Wil. The list went on. Once she’d exhausted us with her questioning, the social worker left.

Her parting words were “I’ll be recommending you wait for 18 months”. Shit! So much for the next leg of our journey. It felt like we’d been yanked back to the real world by the elastic on our breeches, like daydreaming schoolboys.

Of course she discussed the reasons for her decision with us. If I’m honest, it didn’t really sink in though.

We were devastated. We’d truly thought this was the start of the journey and that we’d be going full steam ahead. It felt like our dream was being taken away from us.
Her reasons were sound. Wil was only 6 months old at the time, they like an age gap of 2 years. Also she felt by waiting it would add longevity to our relationship, we’d been together for about 2 years at the time.
We were gutted though. The visit left us feeling like she had disapproved of us, as a couple, as people, as parents. Not from anything she said, just a feeling we’d got. In reality I know she was just doing her job, but we felt dismissed. Like she hadn’t given us a chance. We really felt we were ready. We knew we could make it work. Why couldn’t she see that? I realise that they have to go on policy, experience and learning from past situations and best practice. It just felt so wrong. We were a loving couple, already demonstrating we could raise a child – and there were so many children trapped in the care system it felt unethical, wrong, insane to wait. We also knew what a long process it could be, surely we should get the ball rolling, not wait 18 months?!
A week or so later we received the full report. Along with the formal recommendation that we wait for 18 months. As gutted as we were, the report was incredibly complimentary and a stark contrast to the impression she had left us with. It spoke about our qualities as a couple. Our beautiful home. The great job we were doing with Wil. Whilst it didn’t change our mind that we wanted more kids….and we wanted them now! It did make us appreciate that the decision wasn’t based on any form of disaproval, but instead on the social workers experience and best judgement.
Still, I wasn’t giving up. 18 months was such a long time to wait…

A different type of pride

My latest blog on is about how our kids make us proud. It goes without saying that each of my kids make me proud in different ways. Connors eating an entire meal without flicking it everywhere. Louis having a conversation like he’s been speaking for years. The boys all playing together for more than half hour without drawing blood…the list goes on. Everyday they do something that makes me proud.
For the gayswithkids article I’m restricted to about 500 words, so have concentrated on Wil and the pride his school report induced in me…. Follow the link to read the published article x

How my dogs are better parents than me….

Are you a believer that pets are good for kids? We certainly are. We are blessed, or cursed some may say, to have enough space for a whole load of them. To date we have; four horses, six dogs, six cats, three guinea-pigs, two turtles, tank fish, pond fish, chickens, ducks, turkeys and geese. Oh and there are usually a few pigs roaming around too. You’d think that we live on a farm, if only! We do have a fair amount of space though. This mixed with an aversion to the word no, has led us to the menagerie that we have.

We really do love our animals. They are part of our core existence and the ethos in which we like to live our life. We genuinely feel that the benefits that we get from them as a family, especially the kids, hugely outweigh any negative factors…such as the HUGE feed bill every month! We see time and time again, the way they help our kids to develop and grow, and they are a constant source of examples to demonstrate certain things to the kids, in a way that they can relate to. Mix this with an endless source of fun, amusement and companionship and we really seem to be onto a winner!

One of our over-riding fears when we first ventured into parenthood, was that the kids would grow up hating animals (or be allergic to them!) I am relieved to say that, at this moment in time, it isn’t the case. They love our animals. Antihistimines deal with the rest!

Sometimes though, even our friends think we are mad, to have so many animals. But our animals really unite us as a family and serve to draw us closer together. In this series of blogs I want to demonstrate the positive benefits that I see each of our animals bring to the kids and the family as a whole.  I am going to start with our dogs.

As I say, we have six dogs. Two of these are working police dogs; Vic is a general purpose police dog – he bites and tracks and finds property. Diesel is a drugs dog – he finds drugs and weapons and cash. Alas he has never found us any of the latter. We then have four pet dogs; Locke is a retired police dog. Sophie is a failed police drugs dog – she could find drugs, and cash, but couldn’t find weapons. She was required to do all three. Jack is a pet, just a loveable fluffball. Last, but not least, the youngster Buddy. He’s the rogue of the family.

What follows are the things that make me proud that our kids learn from our dogs. The lessons they learn, they can, and do, apply to life because they are able to see, feel and interact with them in such a way that the lessons become part of them. Whether they realise it or not.

Physical fitness – as a family, we take the dogs for at least two walks a day. It doesn’t only provide us with exercise, but more importantly, it’s a chance for us and the dogs to let of steam, run around, play and have fun. The kids really look forward to the walks and they’re an integral part of our day. Of course it also means that the kids are out, whatever the weather, and not stuck in front of the TV.

Bonding – the time we’re walking the dogs is a real chance for us to bond as a family. It’s a space for us to chat, laugh and catch up on the day we’ve had. The dogs don’t care what we’re chatting about, they just love to be included.

Respect – the kids have really started to learn respect for the dogs. They see them as friends, but especially with the police dogs, have seen the power that they have. They have been quick to realise not to take this for granted, but to treat their friends with the respect and courtesy they deserve and, in return, they get unwavering loyalty. A lesson for all of us.

Personal space – the kids have a huge awareness for personal space. They seem to know when enough is enough. If the dogs are sleeping, or have put themselves away, you leave them be. They’ve earned their rest. They have seen that if they badger the dogs, they soon lose interest in playing with them. In return, if they’re busy they expect the dogs to leave them be.

Fun – there’s nothing quite like playing with the dogs. Their boundless energy and love for life has the kids, and us in turn, in fits of giggles as they leap for the ball, or chase their tail. It teaches them to love life.

Good behaviour – the kids see that the dogs don’t get what they want by being pushy, or rude, or aggressive. Instead they see that by behaving well they get praise and to play and have treats. They are starting to realise that this works for them too!

Responsibility – the kids argue over who gets to feed the dogs, walk the dogs, groom the dogs, wash the dogs. They seem to appreciate that with the fun, comes the work and the care and they treat this with equal vigour.

Loss – at some point, sadly, we will start to lose the dogs. Most of them are getting on now. We have spoken to the kids about this, but nothing can quite prepare you for that huge sense of loss. It does however give us a platform to explore death with the kids and how to manage grief and loss. Something that we can’t avoid in life.

Selfless love – our dogs have the biggest capacity for love. They demonstrate this in their unwavering loyalty to us and the kids, and they ask for little in return. They are always there for a hug and a play. There is little that beats the sight and sound, of our kids using the dogs as a pillow, when they are watching the TV or something, the contented sigh that they both release never fails but to warm my heart.

Our dogs never get caught up in the insignificant stuff. They are never too busy, or anxious, or stressed to play or lend an ear. Their time is yours, their love is yours. It is never doubted or hidden with an angry word. The dogs are always happy to see us, they are also very forgiving. Their loyalty really knows no bounds.

This is why sometimes I think the dogs are better parents than me. You see, it’s not only the kids that need to learn from the dogs. Sometimes, just sometimes I could do with taking a leaf out of their book….couldn’t we all.


Time to expand the family?


I hope that you like the gratuitous shot of Wil herding or pigs, which are long gone for sausages I’m afraid. The pigs, not Wil. He’s a keeper. The picture is supposed to represent the amazing life that we have to offer a child, in our opinion.

It had come to the time that we were starting to think about expanding our family, with kids, not pigs. We loved being Dads, and Wil was going from strength to strength. He had really cemented us together as a family and though it had been a tough start with the press intrusion, we were ready to do it all again!

Ivan and I are both from large families. By that I mean the amount of siblings, not how big we are!  Ever since being a parent had not only become an option to us, but a reality, we knew that we wanted more than one kid, before it would be complete. When Wil was a little over a year old, we started to take steps to expand our family.

My sister Lorna had been amazing in giving us the gift of a son, in Wil. But we had always known it was a one time offer. We considered kidnapping her and making her watch re-runs of Sister Act, until she agreed to provide us with another child, but figured that such a level of torture was unfair. And besides, to have been given the opportunity once was as much of a gift as anyone could ask. The first time had been so simple and so fuelled by love and trust, that we knew that it wasn’t something that could be forced. We also knew that if Lorna could, she would in an instant, despite her initial ‘one time offer’ statement. It was only a change in her circumstances that meant she wasn’t in a position to do it again.

We considered looking for another surrogate, but decided that if it wasn’t going to be Lorna, then that wasn’t the route for us. For as much as we loved the idea of another baby from birth, we also loved the idea of adopting a child equally as much. The thought of adoption appealed on so many levels. We knew that we could parent. We knew that we had a lovely home to offer a child. We knew that Wil would get a lot out of a sibling. But not only that. We knew, from our roles as Police Officers, that there are so many children out there that desperately needed a family that can care for them. We truly felt that we had the life-experience, the love, the understanding, and the time to offer a child the best start they could need. It certainly wasn’t a selfless act, driving it forward was our desire to expand our family. But if we could do this, and help a child that needed it? That’s pretty exciting stuff!

In terms of timing, it felt right to us too. We were recently married. Wil was still a baby. The idea of having children, close in age, absolutely appealed.  I love babies, but they are hard work. Even when they’re as easy as Wil. They require time, and attention, 100%  of the time. And I don’t always want it to be about the  kids. I love being a Dad, and it’s at the forefront of my life. But equally I need some me time, and some Ivan time. I want that highly dependent stage to be out of the way ASAP! I want there to be some me, and some us time, outside of the ever so important kid time, and family time too. And I wanted it to be while we are still young enough to enjoy it!

Of course there were also practical reasons. I was close in age to my siblings, and I loved that we played together, and wanted to do the same sorts of things. We could share rooms and clothes and toys. For me and Ivan, It didn’t make sense for us to wait.

After some in depth research and recommendations, we approached Bournemouth adoption agaency, who were hands down our first choice. I rang up, full of excitement, and booked us onto the next available information evening.

We turned up on the evening, full of nerves and trepidation. I scanned the rest of the room. There were about 10 couples there. Old couples, young  couples, black couples, asian couples. It was a positive melting pot of diversity. With us there as the gay couple I think that every box was ticked that evening! It was great to see. What else was great to see was that we weren’t overdressed! Most of my afternoon had been spent concerned that I wasn’t going for the right look! But I need not have worried.

The beginning of the evening gave us a chance to mingle Everyone was clearly as nervous and unsure about what to expect as we were. We made sure to push ourselves forward and chat to the other couples. The nerves showed themselves in the badly timed laughter, and the stilted conversation at the start. But it didn’t take long for people to realise, as diverse a bunch as we were, that we were all in the same boat. We began to relax and start to chat properly.

The information passed that evening was brilliant! We had a power point presentation, which introduced the agency and the background of adoption.  We heard from the adoption team, from people that had adopted, and also people that had been adopted. There was also plenty of time to ask questions, to make sure that we had all the information we needed to make a decision as to whether we moved forward down the adoption route or not. After all, they didn’t sugar coat things. We knew it would be a tough journey. A journey that wouldn’t be for everyone. Looking at Ivan though, I knew that he thought, as I did, that it was a journey for us.

With a smile on our face, we filled in the form saying that we wanted to proceed.

Yes! Yes, we wanted to proceed.  We wanted to be Daddies again! We have so much to offer; love, laughter, stability, a home. The evening had well and truly inspired us. Excited us! We wanted to get started, we wanted it to happen now.

We signed the form and thanked them. Then we left and eagerly awaited the call to start the journey.

But you know what they say about want.

Little were we to know how hard reality would hit soon, and just how gutted we’d be….

My dad’s struggle: My strength


I thought it about time that I gave you some background on myself. An insight into what makes me tick, and maybe a bit of an understanding why not failing as a father means so much to me. You see, I want you to understand what the real driver is behind me wanting to be the best dad I possibly can.

Of course I can’t deny that a large part of me wants to prove a point.  To show the haters and the disbelievers out there that we can do it, and do it well. Gays can be good dads. But if I’m honest, I know that this is more for my benefit than theirs. Because come on, lets face it, my children could invent a cure for cancer and the haters are going to find something wrong with that. I also know that, despite how competetive and stubborn I am…

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