As an LGBTQ Parent, You Have to Come Out Again and Again and Again…

An excerpt from my book, "If These Ovaries Could Talk: The Things We’ve Learned About Making an LGBTQ Family"

In honor of PRIDE month, I’m sharing an excerpt from my book, “If These Ovaries Could Talk: The Things We’ve Learned About Making an LGBTQ Family.” I’ll give you three guesses as to what the book is about. 

If you guessed Making an LGBTQ family, you’re not only right but you’re also smart and observant. If you guessed something else, well… I don’t know how I can help you. It’s in the title. 

Anyhoo, I was honored to write this book as a resource for those who are jumping through all the hoops trying to make their non-traditional family. It ain't easy, folks. But I’m also honored that this book exists as a resource for friends and family members who aren’t aware of all the money, intentionality, and spreadsheets with which we must approach family building. 

If you know someone in the LGBTQ community looking to start a family or have a friend or family member who wants to understand the journey to having kids as an LGBTQ person, this book is for you. It’s chock-full of stories, and it’s chock-full of love and laughter too. 

So enjoy this excerpt about how being a parent, who happens to be gay, means you have to come out all over again.

Happy Pride, y’all! 

_____

ROBIN:

I was never one to be out, Out, OUT! when it came to my sexuality. I had a lot of internalized homophobia and it took me a while to become comfortable with myself. My earliest coming out experiences with friends and family involved hour-long chats filled with tears and fears-both on my part while my friends patiently assured me that everything would be just fine because they loved me just the way I was. Thanks, friends.

Years later, when meeting a new person or starting a new job, I became a pro at dropping in references about my wife or softball so that my lesbianism was quickly established, and we could all carry on with our days. There was no longer a process of coming out. It was just who I was, and I was very comfortable with that.

Then I got pregnant, and before the baby was even out of my uterus, I had to begin the coming out process all over again, but this time as an LGBTQ parent.

Being pregnant or having a baby meant we had to be out at the OBGYN waiting room while sitting amongst the heterosexual couples, out as we took a walk to the store with the baby, out in our apartment building, out at the playground as we met other parents. Whether or not we chose it, we were suddenly out, Out, OUT!

With that came an onslaught of fears about how we would be treated as a nontraditional family.

I remember sitting with my wife, Mary, in front of the administrator of the daycare where we wanted to score a coveted spot in the infant room. Our eyes darted about the place looking for health code violations, while simultaneously asking pointed questions like, “We’re two moms. Is that going to be a problem for the staff or any of the teachers?” Since Mary and I weren’t members of the KGB with vials of truth serum in our pockets, we had to trust this lady’s answers. We had to believe that her staff would treat our children just like all the other kids when we weren’t around.

As my kids have gotten older, I’ve worried about whether a classmate is unavailable for a playdate or if the parents are big ol’ homophobes. I’ve never gotten any indication of the latter, but that doesn’t stop me from wondering about it.

The reality is I’ll never know what’s in a parent’s heart or mind when they cancel a playdate or aren’t as chatty with me as they have been at past school events. But I can’t waste my time focusing on that. Especially when that parent might just think I’m annoying. It happens.

Instead, I try to spend my time modeling pride in our family. I hope that the result is that my kids will be so comfortable with our nontraditional family that they’ll quickly drop in references to their two moms and how they play a lot of softball. And everyone will get it and move on with the conversation.

Here’s what I’ve learned. We need to make sure we are modeling pride for our children, but at the same time make sure we’re not so gosh darn proud that our kid says, “Do you think maybe you could wear one less rainbow to the grocery store?”

The cold hard fact is that when we have a baby in an LGBTQ relationship, the number of times it forces us to be out as a family is multiplied exponentially from our single days. We have to deal with the public school system where forms say “Mother” and “Father,” and they have events like “Daddy and Daughter Dances.” We need to investigate summer camps to find out how they feel about same-sex families. At the dentist or the doctor, the staff will inquire about our family medical history and we’ll need to talk openly about our donors. And we’ll be asked by absolute strangers, “Who’s the real mom?” on more occasions than we’d ever imagined possible.

These situations happen all the time, and often in front of our kids. So, we have to be thoughtful and careful about how we handle being out as a family because our kids are always listening.

Excerpts from If These Ovaries Could Talk: The Things We’ve Learned About Making an LGBTQ Family. Copyright © 2020 Robin Hopkins and Jaimie Kelton. All rights reserved. Reprinted with permission from Lit Riot Press.