Coming Out as a Mother
For Day 3: Motherhood and Reproduction for 14valentines
By the time my son arrived, I’d been coming out to people for twenty years - for so long that I didn’t even think about it any more, that it didn’t even occur to me that I was coming out any more. I was just talking about my life.
My son arrived in my life in 2010 as a four-month-old foster child. We finalized his adoption last year. When he first arrived I didn’t have time to think of much of anything, except what to do with this amazing beautiful demanding little person. But as we started to get more comfortable going out and about, and as I started to have a little more time to be able to look for things to read about what I was going through -- one of my favorite pastimes - I realized that I was in a strange kind of in-between place. As a single lesbian adoptive mom living in the suburbs, I didn’t fit neatly into any of the spaces I found. Books and blogs and events for single moms mostly assumed I’d be straight; the gay family group I tried (a decent drive away, closer to the city) had a lot of families with two parents; most adoption resources seemed geared toward people adopting internationally or in private domestic adoptions, not through foster care. Wherever I was, I wasn’t quite exactly what was expected.
Mostly I didn’t mind. Pretty much everywhere my son and I were welcomed, and that’s the important thing. But one thing that did start to bother me was that for the first time in a long time, pretty much everywhere I went that didn’t have a sign over the door saying “Welcome Rainbow Families”, people actively assumed I was straight. Even though I’m not wearing a ring, people asked me about my husband. If I said I’m not married, they asked me about my son’s father. And because I don’t currently have a partner, because I don’t casually talk about where me and my girlfriend are going this weekend, I started having to decide how I was going to come out to people.
The place where it bothered me was at my son’s daycare. Not because I thought anyone would be less than happy about it, but because one day I spotted two moms dropping off a little boy in the Transition 1 room, the room right above Toddlers 2 where my son was. And I wanted those moms to be my friends.
Look, here’s the thing - I have a busy job and a busy busy toddler and I don’t have a lot of time to go out and about beyond my contented little suburban routine. A lot of my friends are scattered across the country, and of my friends nearby, the parents are straight, and my gay friends don’t have kids. I want some gay mom friends! And here were some right here, temptingly right in front of me at daycare where we go every day!
I tried to play it cool, just being sure to smile and say, “oh God, this snow,” or “cool monkey hat” whenever we passed with our sons in tow, when really what I wanted to say was, “I'm gay! Be my friends! Be my gay mom friends!” I started to feel a little like a stalker. With one of the women we worked our way up to little conversations standing outside the doors in the morning, dancing coyly around each other like high school kids with a crush, and then finally - finally - the day arrived. She asked me if I was married. “Oh, I’m not married,” I said, and then, as she was smiling and nodding as if to say, “that’s cool, that’s cool,” I said, “and I’m gay.”
“I knew it,” she said, “I knew it, but I didn’t ask because my wife told me not to, she said to stop harassing you. But we don’t have any gay mom friends!”
We have a playdate set up for our sons next week. I’m so excited, it’s like I’m going to prom.
Some parenting blogs I like:
Love Isn't Enough
Offbeat Mama
And for recipes for babies (and others - I still make the banana quinoa muffins):
Wholesome Baby Food -- seriously, they're good muffins
By the time my son arrived, I’d been coming out to people for twenty years - for so long that I didn’t even think about it any more, that it didn’t even occur to me that I was coming out any more. I was just talking about my life.
My son arrived in my life in 2010 as a four-month-old foster child. We finalized his adoption last year. When he first arrived I didn’t have time to think of much of anything, except what to do with this amazing beautiful demanding little person. But as we started to get more comfortable going out and about, and as I started to have a little more time to be able to look for things to read about what I was going through -- one of my favorite pastimes - I realized that I was in a strange kind of in-between place. As a single lesbian adoptive mom living in the suburbs, I didn’t fit neatly into any of the spaces I found. Books and blogs and events for single moms mostly assumed I’d be straight; the gay family group I tried (a decent drive away, closer to the city) had a lot of families with two parents; most adoption resources seemed geared toward people adopting internationally or in private domestic adoptions, not through foster care. Wherever I was, I wasn’t quite exactly what was expected.
Mostly I didn’t mind. Pretty much everywhere my son and I were welcomed, and that’s the important thing. But one thing that did start to bother me was that for the first time in a long time, pretty much everywhere I went that didn’t have a sign over the door saying “Welcome Rainbow Families”, people actively assumed I was straight. Even though I’m not wearing a ring, people asked me about my husband. If I said I’m not married, they asked me about my son’s father. And because I don’t currently have a partner, because I don’t casually talk about where me and my girlfriend are going this weekend, I started having to decide how I was going to come out to people.
The place where it bothered me was at my son’s daycare. Not because I thought anyone would be less than happy about it, but because one day I spotted two moms dropping off a little boy in the Transition 1 room, the room right above Toddlers 2 where my son was. And I wanted those moms to be my friends.
Look, here’s the thing - I have a busy job and a busy busy toddler and I don’t have a lot of time to go out and about beyond my contented little suburban routine. A lot of my friends are scattered across the country, and of my friends nearby, the parents are straight, and my gay friends don’t have kids. I want some gay mom friends! And here were some right here, temptingly right in front of me at daycare where we go every day!
I tried to play it cool, just being sure to smile and say, “oh God, this snow,” or “cool monkey hat” whenever we passed with our sons in tow, when really what I wanted to say was, “I'm gay! Be my friends! Be my gay mom friends!” I started to feel a little like a stalker. With one of the women we worked our way up to little conversations standing outside the doors in the morning, dancing coyly around each other like high school kids with a crush, and then finally - finally - the day arrived. She asked me if I was married. “Oh, I’m not married,” I said, and then, as she was smiling and nodding as if to say, “that’s cool, that’s cool,” I said, “and I’m gay.”
“I knew it,” she said, “I knew it, but I didn’t ask because my wife told me not to, she said to stop harassing you. But we don’t have any gay mom friends!”
We have a playdate set up for our sons next week. I’m so excited, it’s like I’m going to prom.
Some parenting blogs I like:
Love Isn't Enough
Offbeat Mama
And for recipes for babies (and others - I still make the banana quinoa muffins):
Wholesome Baby Food -- seriously, they're good muffins