While rebounding from the death of one child and the life-threatening illness of another, B.D. Wong won't be taking it one day at a time. That "didn't really work for Mackenzie Phillips," he writes in his hilarious new memoir, Following Foo. "She ended up on The E! True Hollywood Story."

Don't expect Wong to wind up on tabloid TV. Not that he isn't famous enough: This spring he ended a five-season run on HBO's Oz as the idealistic priest Father Ray Mukada. In September he'll begin a third season on Law & Order: Special Victims Unit, in which he plays forensic psychiatrist George Huang. He's been in some 20 movies and over a dozen TV shows, including Margaret Cho's 1994 sitcom, All-American Girl.

What will keep Wong out of the gossip columns is his "extremely solid" 15-year relationship with Richie Jackson, who is also his agent. Jackson is, in Wong's words, "a New York Jew who never steps off the curb until the light turns green," which leaves B.D. "feeling like the Diane Keaton character in a Woody Allen movie."

Wong's other weapon against the tabloids is that he's extremely private. In the 1980s, Bradley Wong abbreviated his first name so audiences wouldn't guess his gender. (He was then starring in the Broadway hit M. Butterfly as a male character living as a woman.) The ambiguity felt right. Even now, during an interview in the family's Manhattan loft, Wong parries questions about his sexuality, his religion, even his age. (He's 40.)

But while eschewing labels, he is deeply personal in Following Foo. Described on the book cover as "a true story of intensive caring," Foo grew out of B.D. and Richie's decision to start a family. With B.D. donating sperm and Richie's sister Sue donating eggs, the couple impregnated a surrogate in Modesto, Calif. Twenty-eight weeks later, during the 2000 Memorial Day weekend, the surrogate went into labor. The two boys she was carrying suffered from twin-to-twin transfusion syndrome, in which only one twin receives blood from the placenta; the other gets it from his sibling. In this case, the donor twin, Boaz Dov Wong, died shortly after birth. His brother, Jackson Foo Wong, who weighed 2 pounds, 13 ounces, was rushed to intensive care. It was during Jackson's three months of hospitalization that B.D. (living first in a motel and then in his parents' house in San Francisco) began sending long, touching, and often hilarious E-mail updates to friends. One ditty about the wait for Jackson's first poop included this verse:

   Would Thursday be turds day?
   Would Friday, or Sat.?
   Would "he bless" us on Sunday
   With a skit about scat?

There were also E-mails "from" Jackson, now age 3, who describes B.D. as "dad with hair on top" (Richie is balding) and notes that the actors on Oz are "pretty sweet dudes" who only "sodomize each other nonconsensually on TV."

The E-mails (along with online photos) brought responses from hundreds of friends, including Joel Grey (who revealed that he had also lost an infant son), John Lithgow (B.D.'s M. Butterfly costar), and "Uncle Harvey" Fierstein. Eventually, Wong compiled the E-mails--outgoing and incoming--into the book, which will be published by HarperCollins in June. The father of twin boys myself, I caught up with B.D. in his Manhattan loft, where he was buying rock-and-roll memorabilia on eBay while cooking dinner for himself and Richie.

Jackson looks great. How's he doing?

I don't want to say too much. Let's just say I have no complaints about how Jackson is.

How does the loss of Boaz affect you?

Every once in a while, I'll call Richie and say, "I'm having a Boaz moment." That means I'm daydreaming, thinking about "what if." It's not that painful; it's more wistful, more curious about the possibilities. But Jackson is here because of what Boaz did for him. I will always be grateful to Boaz for that gift.

Does Jackson know that his family is "different"?

I think that's a pretty sophisticated concept for a 3-year-old. When he's old enough to understand, we'll tell him everything.

Do you encounter hostility to your two-father family?

In New York it's a total nonissue. Like when we registered him for preschool--no one cared.

How do gay people react to your being a father?

Once, I was walking across the street in Chelsea with the stroller, and I was about to pass this guy--he was in a leather jacket, with a goatee. And I brushed against him, and he said, in the nastiest voice, "Breeder."

You are a breeder.

I know. I was kind of tickled.

How long have you considered yourself "out"?

How long have you been in my apartment? [He checks his watch.] This is it, baby.

So you haven't really been out until this interview?

There are degrees of out. I never lied to anyone. I just didn't go on the record. I was cagey.

Because?

Because I went into this business knowing I faced a fairly long list of limitations. Being Asian-American was one. Adding the fact that you're gay is career suicide. At least that's how it felt.

Have you considered yourself gay since adolescence?

I'm not comfortable being totally definitive about that. Yeah, I guess so. Anything else would fall into the category of confusion or fear.

How old are you?

I'm not telling you. I mean, what do I have left after a Q&A in The Advocate? Let me hold on to something.

What religion are you?

I'm exploring.

What's your favorite part of being a parent?

I consider myself very verbal, so I love being able to reason with Jackson, to explain things to him.

[Richie walks into the room and tells B.D., "Jackson pooped in the potty. And he actually flushed it." Then Jackson walks into the room, looking wistfully in the direction of the toilet and saying, "Poop come back. Poop come back."]

When did you come out to your family?

When I met Richie. That gave me a reason and the spine to do it. It's like with this book; I have a reason for coming out in this book. God gave me something--Jackson--in exchange.

You make it sound like there's a price to coming out.

Some days I think, You're never going to work again. I think there's real reason to worry, as anyone reading this magazine can understand. The book, for me, means I'm calling into question the whole career thing. But that's OK. Part of what this book is about is letting the path go where it goes.

If you're worried about your career, why did you decide to write the book?

A lot of people said the E-mails ought to be a book. So I showed them to a literary agent. I didn't set out to write a book. This was an organic situation that led to a highly creative process. But now there's this thing you can get at Amazon. And if you've ever had a remotely similar experience, it might make you feel better. That's incredible. But I don't want to make this too serious. It could be a lot of fun for me; it could open doors. It's like what John Cameron Mitchell, who's a friend of mine, says when people ask him why he wrote Hedwig and the Angry Inch: "I couldn't do another Matlock."

And yet you've had many great roles.

Not as many as I'd like.

So you're not as successful as you'd like to be?

Every once in a while, when you're at low ebb, you say to yourself, Why can't I have that? Why can't that be me? Like Adrien Brody [accepting his Best Actor award at this year's Oscar ceremony]. With that one speech, he's a household name.

You'd like to be more famous?

I'm already more famous than I want to be. And yet at the same time, fame feeds your potential as a creative person. You're in a vacuum if you don't have a certain amount of fame.

Meaning?

Meaning you cannot be not famous and say to people, "Read my book." They don't go together.

Have you always loved children?

Always. And yet 10 years ago I might not have been able to have Jackson. There's the whole surrogacy thing and the gay acceptance thing. And 10 years ago I wouldn't have been able to write this book. It's about discovering the magical power of electronic communication. I never could have written letters to 1,000 people and received the love that I got back.

The E-mails really helped you through it?

Yes, because they were supportive responses and also because they were diversions from the daily grind.

Did any of your friends object to seeing their E-mails in print?

One actor wrote a beautiful E-mail with his boyfriend that said, "We hope that we'll be able to become parents too someday." And then he wouldn't sign the release form for the book. The only possible reason is that he isn't out. It really freaked me out and disgusted me. Then I was affronted--like, "My book's not good enough for you?"--and then I wondered, Ten years ago, would I have been that person? I don't know.

How does Richie's sister, who was your egg donor, feel about your publishing the story?

You ask that like she might have a bad reaction. I can't imagine that happening. She volunteered. She's not the kind of person who would pull back now.

And Shauna, the surrogate?