The Parent Trip: Laura and Jen Jennings of Phoenixville

THE PARENTS: Laura Jennings, 31, and Jen Jennings, 35, of Phoenixville
THE CHILD: Joss Lynne Jennings, born March 16, 2016
HOW THEY CHOSE THE BABY'S NAME: They wanted a gender-neutral name that would work for a boy or a girl; plus, they liked that the child could be called "JJ."

It doesn't look like a mixed marriage.

But for Jen, raised Catholic in Bucks County, and Laura, who grew up in central Pennsylvania as the only child of evangelical parents, differences surfaced from the start: Laura chattered when she was nervous; Jen grew quiet. Jen was skeptical, but Laura trusted more readily.

Jen, whose parents are from New York, felt at home with urban buzz and intimacy; Laura, whose nearest neighbors lived two miles away, had never tapped on someone's door for a cup of sugar.

But from their first date - dinner at a Thai restaurant on South Street followed by dancing at a gay bar in New Hope - both women knew their connection upstaged those differences.

"After that first day we spent together, we left convinced that it couldn't be the end; it was just the beginning," Jen says.

For a while, they commuted between Laura's home in Bethlehem and Jen's near Newtown - a 75-minute drive that felt, in the throes of new love, more like a float. After a few months, they moved in together; six months after that, Jen proposed, dropping to one knee in front of the LOVE sculpture in Center City. A group of teenagers hanging out nearby applauded.

Marriage equality had not yet come to Pennsylvania, so the two wed in Washington, in a small ceremony attended by a dozen relatives and close friends. The couple cherished the moment when they put their wedding rings into a small bag and passed them from guest to guest; each person offered a wish or a prayer for their future.

Both wanted that future to include children. They'd talked about family even before they were "officially" dating and agreed three kids would be ideal. Jen recalled fantasies about motherhood from the time she was a young girl playing with dolls, and Laura yearned to show her children a wider, more diverse world than the religiously rigid community in which she'd grown up.

"I wanted to give this child so much experience, to travel, to see that there's so much we can learn from other people with different ideas than our own," she says.

By 2014, they were ready; they'd spent a few years building careers and quenching their thirst for the outdoors: hiking and kayaking trips, evenings with Jen playing her guitar by a snapping campfire. Jen was older, so it made sense for her to become pregnant first.

They briefly considered asking a friend to be their sperm donor but agreed they were more comfortable using a sperm bank - especially one in which donors could agree to be identified to any offspring once those children turned 18.

When they turned to the sperm bank's online catalog, their differences emerged once again: Jen found the process "entertaining," but for Laura, it was "extremely strange and awkward." After perusing profiles and photos of a few donors, they chose a man who so resembles Jen they could be twins.

"Many friends said, 'Why didn't you pick someone who looked like you?' " Laura says. "But I'm not trying to fool anyone."

Five intrauterine inseminations. Five months of disappointment. Jen grew progressively discouraged, but Laura, the glass-half-full gal, never lost hope. "I figured we'd make a family somehow - through adoption or fostering."

Once Laura, a physician assistant, landed a job at the Hospital of the University of Pennsylvania, which meant health insurance for both of them, they opted for one round of IVF. And on the day the fertility specialist called with good news, both women felt their lives arc forward.

"It was a flood of emotion. I wanted to make sure I protected myself and the little, growing peanut," Jen recalls. Laura says, "I felt overjoyed for a beautiful four seconds, then thought: I need to take care of my wife and my future little one. It became a responsibility I took so seriously."

Jen's parents were shocked at first, then pleased, to hear that a grandchild was on the way. Laura's family was not enthusiastic, though her father's questions - What does the donor look like? Does he have legal rights? - led, over time, to an embrace of the women's partnership and their impending parenthood.

Meantime, Jen felt exuberant. Other than a case of carpal tunnel syndrome, her pregnancy was uneventful: no morning sickness, no odd cravings or aversions. Distant cousins began calling to check in and compare pregnancy notes; there was a sense of being "in the club." At the same time, the women found it harder to relate to childless gay friends.

Jen pored over websites, blogs, and books on pregnancy and childbirth; she prepared for labor with Hypnobabies techniques. Laura's approach was the laissez-faire opposite: Let's just see how it goes.

How it went was gradual and calm: Jen's water broke at home, but her contractions were mild enough that they stopped at a quick-mart for yogurt and almonds on the way to Pennsylvania Hospital. For the next 26 hours, she walked, sat on a birthing ball, and, when contractions grew intense, visualized each one as a cresting wave that would carry her closer to meeting their baby.

Joss emerged just before 3 a.m., with a mop of brown hair, a sudden wail, and tiny dimples. Though there were 10 people in the room, including a midwife, nurses, and Jen's mother, Laura felt as though the rest of the world peeled away, leaving just the three of them. "The bonding that happened in that second was so powerful," she recalls.

And enduring: Though sleep deprivation pummels them, though Laura sometimes balks at all the baby equipment, though they've learned that it's impossible to leave the house on any kind of schedule, motherhood has them both in its tenacious grip.

Before Joss, they'd typically spend evenings bonded to their phones, idly surfing social media. Now, says Jen, "I'm just soaking up every minute. All we want to do is stare at her."

WELCOME TO PARENTHOOD!
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