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The Parent Trip: Samantha Hutcherson Bannon and Pamela Bannon of Jenkintown

Each woman thought she was being stood up. While Pam fidgeted at Tria Cafe on South 18th Street, Sam sat restlessly at Tria's Spruce Street location - without her phone, because she thought it was rude to bring one on a first date.

Each woman thought she was being stood up.

While Pam fidgeted at Tria Cafe on South 18th Street, Sam sat restlessly at Tria's Spruce Street location - without her phone, because she thought it was rude to bring one on a first date.

It took 45 minutes to resolve the glitch. But there were no hard feelings; as recent transplants to Philadelphia - Sam from Kentucky and Pam from Buffalo - they understood the challenge of fumbling around a new city.

Soon, they were exploring together - the Christmas lights at Longwood Gardens, the Philadelphia Museum of Art, the restaurants of the "gayborhood."

Before moving to a rowhouse on Addison Street, after a year of dating ("a long time for lesbians," Sam jokes), they celebrated with brunch at Lacroix at the Rittenhouse. The restaurant - both fancy and fun, with a chef's table plunked in the kitchen's hubbub - became their go-to for every big life marker.

So when Pam arranged for another meal there, toward the end of 2013, Sam figured a marriage proposal might be on the menu. They'd talked about the obvious next step in their partnership, and both women wanted children. But that day at Lacroix, nothing happened except brunch.

Maybe Pam planned to propose as they wandered home through Rittenhouse Square. Nothing transpired there, either. Back at home, Sam plopped on the couch - only to find Pam proffering a photo chronicle of their relationship that ended with a picture of a ring and the caption, "Will you marry me?"

By the following summer, the timing seemed right for a baby: Pam had finished her residency in emergency medicine, and Sam, who was switching careers from pharmaceuticals to a master's program in landscape architecture, had a flexible schedule.

Sam, an only child, had always wanted to be a mother. But growing up gay in Kentucky sometimes made her wonder whether she could grasp that dream. "As a lesbian, in order to own one part of myself, I thought I'd have to give up another part. But in meeting Pam, in moving to the Northeast, I saw that I could sort of have it all."

They opted for a sperm bank and a donor who had agreed to be identified to any offspring once those children turned 18. "We had no idea how our children might feel about not knowing 50 percent of their biological parentage," Pam says. "That wasn't our decision to make for them."

Still, the choice was befuddling: The sperm bank listed donors' SAT scores, college grade-point averages, favorite colors and animals. Sam and Pam could listen to recordings of the men's voices and peruse photographs of them as babies and adults.

"The information available was both daunting and incredible," Sam says. "We thought: Who seems like a well-rounded, interesting person?"

It took three tries for Sam to conceive; already 35, she lamented that each month she was drifting farther from optimum fertility. One morning, she rushed into the bedroom and handed her sleeping partner a slightly damp, positive pregnancy test.

Pam was the first to learn the baby's sex - she had called the doctor's office for some prenatal testing results - and she surprised Sam with a box of "It's a girl!" balloons.

The pregnancy was easy: no morning sickness, no complications, rounds of congratulations from both women's extended families and Pam's workmates. They wanted to be legally married before the baby came, so one spring Sunday, they returned to Lacroix, paperwork and witnesses in hand, and performed a self-uniting ceremony.

At home, Pam studied YouTube videos on swaddling while Sam read The Happiest Baby on the Block. They practiced snapping stuffed animals into the baby carrier. They quietly chose a name - Eleanor, which they thought was "classic and strong." It was also a nod to Sam's maternal grandmother, Lenore, a progressive and opinionated woman. And "Jo" was the next link in a middle-name chain that united Sam's mother and Sam herself. They liked the sound of "Ellie Jo."

By June, everything was on schedule - except the baby, who remained steadfastly in utero as 39 weeks became 40, then 41. Pam had taken two weeks off from work in anticipation of the birth, and that respite was nearly over. Hoping to jump-start Sam's labor, the two walked miles around the city - the Philadelphia Zoo, Spruce Street Harbor Park.

Finally, Sam's doctors advised an induction. After 48 sleepless hours at Abington Hospital - 36 of them with Pitocin-boosted contractions - their daughter was delivered by C-section. Pam remembers a piercing scream; Sam recalls the first skin-to-skin touch. "I remember saying to Pam, 'She's so beautiful.' "

The first weeks at home - with Pam back at work, six days of 8- and 10-hour shifts in a row to make up for her time off - were a bumpy ride, even with the support of Sam's parents, visiting from Kentucky.

"It's harder than I expected," Sam says. "I think people forget the early days of motherhood the further they get away from it."

At the same time, both women felt a sudden bond with sisters and friends - "this 'secret club' that you can only really join once you experience it," Pam says.

The couple want to emulate their own parents: active, involved, curious. Sam looks forward to showing Ellie her grandmother's vast collection of Santa Claus figures; Pam pictures spontaneous zoo trips on a Tuesday when she doesn't have to work. Both want their daughter to know that differences make the world more interesting.

For now, they're happy to inch forward on the pitched learning curve of parenthood, including one early venture out of the house. It wasn't Lacroix - just a Panera cafe - but Ellie was content in her car seat. "We felt like we were resuming our new life, with her," Pam says.

"When the three of us are together, she's her most calm," says Sam. "Even at her little age, she gets that this is her family."

The Parent Trip

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Giving birth, adopting, or becoming a stepparent or guardian all count.

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