No girl starts life thinking, "I'm going to
be a lesbian mom when I grow up!" As a
child, if you're thinking about having kids,
the phrase you use in your head is, "I
want to be a mother!" or "I want to have
children of my own someday!" As girls
growing up, many of us simply embrace
the images of motherhood that our
culture shows us in movies, television,
magazines, and within our own families
and daily life. Until a few years ago, there
were no lesbian mom role model images
for us to embrace. That's changed as being
a lesbian mom has become decidely cool.
I'm not sure I ever use the phrase "I'm
going to be a lesbian mom!" in my own
girlhood, but as the founder of Gay Girl
Dating Coach, a service designed to help
lesbians conquer their dating struggles, I
often work with women who have come
out later in life, after being married and
having children. That's my story too. Not
one of us, as a young girl, is thinking
about our sexual preferences as a defining
characteristic of motherhood. And
neither do the children we birth, adopt or
foster.
I realized I had an attraction to girls when
I was around 6 or 7, but it took me many
more years to understand that and find
the courage to embrace that truth about
myself. After 20 years of marriage and
two children, I finally had to admit to
myself that I was a lesbian. A vital factor
in my finally coming out was being a
mother and realizing I wanted my
children to live their truths and know
that they would be loved and accepted. I
wanted them to know they would not be
harshly judged for who they are or who
they love. I clearly remember the day I
sat down and told my husband I was
leaving him because I had come to terms
with being lesbian and I knew I could no
longer stay married.
I was 45 at the time and I never once
thought I had to change my parenting
style from when I was married to when I
was openly out. In the most important
ways, nothing changed. The days
immediately following were hard for all
of us, but we made it to the other side and
found new ways to live our lives. The
experiences I've had as a mother aren't
any different than those of a woman who
defines herself as straight, bi or tran. But
the truth is, my parenting style changed
dramatically after I came out. This
happened not because I was living my life
as a lesbian, but because I finally stepped
away from the belief system I'd learned in
church. It took a year from my coming
out conversations to finally find a new
way to approach my spiritual life.
At the time I came out, my son was a
senior in high school, while my daughter
was going into the 1st grade. What they
needed as individuals was dramatically
different. He needed to be learning how
to be more responsible with his time,
money and choices as a young 18-year-
old. She was learning how to read and
write, do chores, take care of her cat and
get along with friends at school.
My son was so angry with me for leaving
his dad and coming out that we barely
spoke for two years. My daughter was
busy playing hide and seek, dressing up
her stuffed animals, riding her tricycle,
missing her dad and trying to understand
why we couldn't just all live together
anymore. She was also enjoying the fact
that she often had her mom all to herself.
As their mother, my role and
responsibilities didn't change from when I
was their father's wife to when I was their
lesbian mom. I wanted them to be
healthy, well fed and well educated, to
feel supported and loved, and to know I
was always there to talk to and support
them, provide guidance and correction
and be a steady, loving presence in their
lives.
I've helped my children figure out school,
do homework, navigate bullies and
friends. I taught them both how to cook
and clean their rooms, do laundry and
mow the lawn. I've encouraged them in
their low times, cheered them on when
they thought they couldn't do something
that I knew they could, and showed up for
them in all the ways parents should.
I've also let my kids down. I've lost my
temper. I've yelled at them. I've been less
than patient, and sometimes was too
tired or too preoccupied with my own
troubles to be able to listen to theirs. I'm
a real person and the title of lesbian mom
didn't bestow on me any super lesbian or
mom powers. It's been humbling to raise
my children.
I was humbled, for example, by the
learning disabilities my son had to deal
with while in school. How does a kid
flunk kindergarten? Having him come
home and throw himself on the floor in
tears because he felt so stupid made me
feel so powerless. And it happened over
and over again for years. I had to struggle
with my own ego and wonder if I did
something during my pregnancy that
caused this to happen. How could it be
that my son couldn't read? I loved
reading. Reading saved my life and my
son couldn't read? I was heartbroken for
me and for him.
I read to him every night at bedtime until
he was 12 years old. Our favorite stories
were the most gruesome stories from
Grimm's Fairy Tales. He's a reader now;
he figured it out. I'm in awe and thrilled
to see that he's conquered what was once
a seemingly impossible task.
I vividly remember the day my son called
to tell me he had enlisted in the Marines.
It was heartbreaking to have my son join
the Marines after high school because of
9/11, and hear our country had declared
war on Iraq three weeks after he
enlisted. I again felt powerless to help
him as he struggled with wanting to
commit suicide after his experiences in
Iraq. Diagnosed with PTSD, and not be
able to find work for almost a year, I was
heartbroken all over again.
During his last year in the Marines, I got
my son to promise that he wouldn't hurt
himself, and to call me first, anytime of
the day and night when he was
overwhelmed with wanting to end his life.
My memories of those conversations are
ripe with emotion and the places where I
was when he would call. I vividly
remember being in Montana for a
consulting gig once when he called. I was
driving along the Beartooth Highway on
my way into Yellowstone from Billings.
It is an amazingly scenic drive that is
animated with the sound of my son's
voice on the phone with me for two
hours. A beautiful mountain pass, a tight
corner, my finding a place to pull over
where I had a cell signal. He's
complaining about his Sergeant and the
base commander. He is sick of the heat of
living in the desert. He wants to see green
trees so badly and I'm surrounded by
them on all sides where I am. I remember
the weird feeling of picturing his plain,
bare room on that ugly sand blasted base
and then looking out to see the
mountains painted in a hundred hues of
green, brown and black rock against a
backdrop of blue sky and cotton ball
clouds.
It wasn't about being lesbian, it was just
about being his Mom, and someone who
cared deeply for his wellbeing. I was
doing the only thing I could do: be
present. Listen. Pray and love him.
As his time to be discharged from the
Marines approached, I realized he'd need
serious emotional support and a stable
place to live when he got home. I bought
an apartment building with the idea that
he could live in one unit, my daughter and
I would live in another and I'd rent the
third. He lived in my third-floor
apartment for 4 years. Over those four
years, he struggled with finding a new
path in life; he's done it and done it well.
I'm so very proud of what he's
accomplished and how he's recreated his
own life. As his mother, I prayed for him,
fought for him and with him, and
struggled with how much to help and how
much to let him find his own way. Being
lesbian wasn't important in those years.
Just being his mom and loving him was.
When it comes to my kids, I'm a mom
first and a lesbian second. My heart
breaks for and soars with them as I watch
them navigate this crazy world we live
in. The thing children want most from
their parents, whether they're lesbian,
straight, gay, bi, tran or whatever, is the
security of knowing they are loved
deeply. What children need most are
parents who show love by being present,
listening deeply, teaching by example and
disciplining themselves in order to
effectively teach lessons and benefits of
structure.
I've always said my children forced me to
grow up in ways nothing else in life ever
did. We are amazed by our children's
drive to learn and experience life, their
constant emotional needs and the total
lack of awareness that they have for a
parent's need for sleep, personal self care,
getting to work on time, paying the bills
and the myriad of other things that we as
parents think are important.
My values as a mother have always been
an expression of loving my children,
wanting them to find their path, knowing
my role is to help them learn how to
succeed in a world that is full of
uncertainty. The one thing they can
always be certain of is my love for them
and my belief that they are amazing
individuals who can and should do what is
in their hearts.
I know if I keep listening to them, every
once in a while they will want to listen to
me, their mother who just happens to be
a lesbian, too.
be a lesbian mom when I grow up!" As a
child, if you're thinking about having kids,
the phrase you use in your head is, "I
want to be a mother!" or "I want to have
children of my own someday!" As girls
growing up, many of us simply embrace
the images of motherhood that our
culture shows us in movies, television,
magazines, and within our own families
and daily life. Until a few years ago, there
were no lesbian mom role model images
for us to embrace. That's changed as being
a lesbian mom has become decidely cool.
I'm not sure I ever use the phrase "I'm
going to be a lesbian mom!" in my own
girlhood, but as the founder of Gay Girl
Dating Coach, a service designed to help
lesbians conquer their dating struggles, I
often work with women who have come
out later in life, after being married and
having children. That's my story too. Not
one of us, as a young girl, is thinking
about our sexual preferences as a defining
characteristic of motherhood. And
neither do the children we birth, adopt or
foster.
I realized I had an attraction to girls when
I was around 6 or 7, but it took me many
more years to understand that and find
the courage to embrace that truth about
myself. After 20 years of marriage and
two children, I finally had to admit to
myself that I was a lesbian. A vital factor
in my finally coming out was being a
mother and realizing I wanted my
children to live their truths and know
that they would be loved and accepted. I
wanted them to know they would not be
harshly judged for who they are or who
they love. I clearly remember the day I
sat down and told my husband I was
leaving him because I had come to terms
with being lesbian and I knew I could no
longer stay married.
I was 45 at the time and I never once
thought I had to change my parenting
style from when I was married to when I
was openly out. In the most important
ways, nothing changed. The days
immediately following were hard for all
of us, but we made it to the other side and
found new ways to live our lives. The
experiences I've had as a mother aren't
any different than those of a woman who
defines herself as straight, bi or tran. But
the truth is, my parenting style changed
dramatically after I came out. This
happened not because I was living my life
as a lesbian, but because I finally stepped
away from the belief system I'd learned in
church. It took a year from my coming
out conversations to finally find a new
way to approach my spiritual life.
At the time I came out, my son was a
senior in high school, while my daughter
was going into the 1st grade. What they
needed as individuals was dramatically
different. He needed to be learning how
to be more responsible with his time,
money and choices as a young 18-year-
old. She was learning how to read and
write, do chores, take care of her cat and
get along with friends at school.
My son was so angry with me for leaving
his dad and coming out that we barely
spoke for two years. My daughter was
busy playing hide and seek, dressing up
her stuffed animals, riding her tricycle,
missing her dad and trying to understand
why we couldn't just all live together
anymore. She was also enjoying the fact
that she often had her mom all to herself.
As their mother, my role and
responsibilities didn't change from when I
was their father's wife to when I was their
lesbian mom. I wanted them to be
healthy, well fed and well educated, to
feel supported and loved, and to know I
was always there to talk to and support
them, provide guidance and correction
and be a steady, loving presence in their
lives.
I've helped my children figure out school,
do homework, navigate bullies and
friends. I taught them both how to cook
and clean their rooms, do laundry and
mow the lawn. I've encouraged them in
their low times, cheered them on when
they thought they couldn't do something
that I knew they could, and showed up for
them in all the ways parents should.
I've also let my kids down. I've lost my
temper. I've yelled at them. I've been less
than patient, and sometimes was too
tired or too preoccupied with my own
troubles to be able to listen to theirs. I'm
a real person and the title of lesbian mom
didn't bestow on me any super lesbian or
mom powers. It's been humbling to raise
my children.
I was humbled, for example, by the
learning disabilities my son had to deal
with while in school. How does a kid
flunk kindergarten? Having him come
home and throw himself on the floor in
tears because he felt so stupid made me
feel so powerless. And it happened over
and over again for years. I had to struggle
with my own ego and wonder if I did
something during my pregnancy that
caused this to happen. How could it be
that my son couldn't read? I loved
reading. Reading saved my life and my
son couldn't read? I was heartbroken for
me and for him.
I read to him every night at bedtime until
he was 12 years old. Our favorite stories
were the most gruesome stories from
Grimm's Fairy Tales. He's a reader now;
he figured it out. I'm in awe and thrilled
to see that he's conquered what was once
a seemingly impossible task.
I vividly remember the day my son called
to tell me he had enlisted in the Marines.
It was heartbreaking to have my son join
the Marines after high school because of
9/11, and hear our country had declared
war on Iraq three weeks after he
enlisted. I again felt powerless to help
him as he struggled with wanting to
commit suicide after his experiences in
Iraq. Diagnosed with PTSD, and not be
able to find work for almost a year, I was
heartbroken all over again.
During his last year in the Marines, I got
my son to promise that he wouldn't hurt
himself, and to call me first, anytime of
the day and night when he was
overwhelmed with wanting to end his life.
My memories of those conversations are
ripe with emotion and the places where I
was when he would call. I vividly
remember being in Montana for a
consulting gig once when he called. I was
driving along the Beartooth Highway on
my way into Yellowstone from Billings.
It is an amazingly scenic drive that is
animated with the sound of my son's
voice on the phone with me for two
hours. A beautiful mountain pass, a tight
corner, my finding a place to pull over
where I had a cell signal. He's
complaining about his Sergeant and the
base commander. He is sick of the heat of
living in the desert. He wants to see green
trees so badly and I'm surrounded by
them on all sides where I am. I remember
the weird feeling of picturing his plain,
bare room on that ugly sand blasted base
and then looking out to see the
mountains painted in a hundred hues of
green, brown and black rock against a
backdrop of blue sky and cotton ball
clouds.
It wasn't about being lesbian, it was just
about being his Mom, and someone who
cared deeply for his wellbeing. I was
doing the only thing I could do: be
present. Listen. Pray and love him.
As his time to be discharged from the
Marines approached, I realized he'd need
serious emotional support and a stable
place to live when he got home. I bought
an apartment building with the idea that
he could live in one unit, my daughter and
I would live in another and I'd rent the
third. He lived in my third-floor
apartment for 4 years. Over those four
years, he struggled with finding a new
path in life; he's done it and done it well.
I'm so very proud of what he's
accomplished and how he's recreated his
own life. As his mother, I prayed for him,
fought for him and with him, and
struggled with how much to help and how
much to let him find his own way. Being
lesbian wasn't important in those years.
Just being his mom and loving him was.
When it comes to my kids, I'm a mom
first and a lesbian second. My heart
breaks for and soars with them as I watch
them navigate this crazy world we live
in. The thing children want most from
their parents, whether they're lesbian,
straight, gay, bi, tran or whatever, is the
security of knowing they are loved
deeply. What children need most are
parents who show love by being present,
listening deeply, teaching by example and
disciplining themselves in order to
effectively teach lessons and benefits of
structure.
I've always said my children forced me to
grow up in ways nothing else in life ever
did. We are amazed by our children's
drive to learn and experience life, their
constant emotional needs and the total
lack of awareness that they have for a
parent's need for sleep, personal self care,
getting to work on time, paying the bills
and the myriad of other things that we as
parents think are important.
My values as a mother have always been
an expression of loving my children,
wanting them to find their path, knowing
my role is to help them learn how to
succeed in a world that is full of
uncertainty. The one thing they can
always be certain of is my love for them
and my belief that they are amazing
individuals who can and should do what is
in their hearts.
I know if I keep listening to them, every
once in a while they will want to listen to
me, their mother who just happens to be
a lesbian, too.
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