Raj and Andy Bandyopadhyay. Credit: Courtesy Zoe Larkin; Francesca Roh/Xtra
L ast wintertime, we used a six-month-old girl. She ended up being perfect: All broad vision and little arms, warm and cozy. Their dads—friends from local queer circles—were character brands for me and my husband Raj. We questioned the way they happened to be starting half a year into fatherhood, and exactly what information that they had for people as dads-to-be.
Raj was a straight cis man from Mumbai; I’m a bisexual trans man from Houston. We’ve already been referring to toddlers since we going dating 12 in years past, when we happened to be both youngsters at Rice college. All of our partnership moved through a lot of twists and turns since then—eight decades in, we realized I found myself one and transitioned—but all along, we’ve wanted a loft filled up with art and guides and two teens your own. Raj actually promised becoming the pregnant one, if tech actually ever allowed.
Raj sensed ready first. It's a good idea: He’s decade over the age of me personally. For him, the baby time clock going while he was at a San Francisco bookstore in 2021. He saw a nine-year-old browsing the piles and said, “I would like to notice industry through the sight of a child. We Can Easily become delivering our children here.”