By: Brandy Black

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“Speak The Truth” was the theme of the Human Rights Campaign “HRC” gala dinner in Los Angeles.  It was a star-studded evening and I had a chance to chat it up with some of the fabulous celebs that walked the red carpet before the big event.

Michael Manning- Real World DC

B- How was coming out on National TV on Real Word DC?

Michael- “Think of the hardest thing you’ve ever done and have a million eyes on you while you’re doing it.”

B- Any advice you’d give LGBT youth?

Don’t let other people tell you how to live.  You’re born a certain way…just be who you are, show the world that we’re your doctors, your lawyers, we teach in your schools, we drive your busses, we’re just as boring as anyone else so give us the same rights.

Jillian Michael’s from The Biggest Loser

This is a cause that I’m very much behind.  I think it’s extremely important that we support this.  I actually don’t even know what to tell you; it doesn’t even make sense that we’re even here right now, but I’ll do whatever it takes to be supportive.

B- Is this your first HRC event?

Jillian- Yes it is and I’m here to support Suze Orman and KT, her lover; they’ve been tremendous friends and mentors of mine.  I’m very excited.

Kathy Griffin’s mom-

We need marriages to last – I think everyone should get married.

Louis Van Amstel- Dancing With The Stars

Meredith Baxter

Suze Orman and Portia Di Rossi dashed past to the gala right before dinner began.  The room was full of beautiful people laughing and toasting.  Suze Orman opened the evening  by saying,

I find it strange that we need a campaign for all the people in this room, including me.

The crowd cheered.

Over the clinking of dishes and bubbling champagne there were many moving speakers throughout the evening.   Joe Solmonese, the President of the Human Rights Campaign, gave an eloquent speech about how far we’ve come and where we are going.

We are the aggressors and they are the victims, that’s why the Perry trial couldn’t be televised…we are winning…changing laws is what makes life better.

US Senator Barbara Boxer received a standing ovation when she stepped onto the stage.  She spoke in support of the crowd before her with a determination to repeal “don’t ask don’t tell”.

“It is a privilege and honor to work with the HRC.  It is a powerful force and they ask just one thing from their country –to be treated equally.”

She went on to explain that we need to focus on the victories. “After more than 10 years of debate, the Matthew Shepard bill got signed into law.” She talked about ENDA- Employment Non-Discrimination Act.
“I’m going to pick up the baton and do everything I can until ENDA is signed into law.”  Barbara ended her speech  with,

marriage equality is a civil right, plain and simple.  If you make a commitment to honor and love, that’s marriage isn’t it?  I stand for marriage equality strong in my heart- from me to you.

Chelsea Montgomery-Duban, age 16, gave a speech full of laughter and tears.  She has been attending the HRC events with her two dads since she was 9 years old.

“My parents didn’t feel the need to run off and get married right away, but it was important to me. You see, they are both listed on my birth certificate, they are both my parents, but they were strangers in the eyes of the law…my family should have every basic right that is given freely to other couples in the country.  No one has the right to tell them who they love.  My generation isn’t going to sick back quietly and allow people that we love to suffer discrimination.  While I can’t vote yet and I am just getting used to driving, my drive for equality is unstoppable.  This is why I love HRC.”

Kathy Griffin rocked the house with screams and hollers.

“Hello gays and people that support them!”

As expected, she cracked some funny jokes, pitched her “My Life on the D List” show, and boasted about her dress for the gay men in the audience, but after the laughter she brought the house to tears when she began talking about the “don’t ask don’t tell” policy.  She read letters from a gay man in the military and his partner of 10 years regarding their feelings on the matter.  Their words were heart wrenching and a reminder of how truly unfair it is that gays and lesbians are serving a country that they believe in, yet that very country doesn’t believe in them.

Betty Degeneres (Ellen’s mom) introduced Portia de Rossi for the Visibility Award.  Portia explained that she felt awkward receiving an award from the HRC when they do so much and thanked them for their work on her behalf.

“I was an extremely closeted actress for the first few years of my career…I wouldn’t even drive down Santa Monica Blvd because I was afraid people would see me through the window and wonder what I was doing in the gay part of town.  Back then I thought it was no one’s business that I was gay…but over time I came to realize how selfish that is and how important it is to be visible. Because acting, while it’s a fine profession, isn’t really an important thing to do with your life compared to what you can do to advance acceptance and equality in society.  Despite the fact that TV executives tell me that being gay is no longer an issue, it will remain an issue as long as actors continue to hide their sexuality…there are only a handful of actors…brave enough to come out…”

She went on to explain how Proposition 8 changed everything for her;  she found herself having discussions with “so-called ‘liberal people’” about marriage:  “I developed a knack for turning any question into a discussion about gay marriage.  For example, ‘what are you wearing?’ I would say ‘a wedding ring’…talking really is the key ingredient to changing people’s opinions into real lasting change.”

It was a beautiful evening full of truth and a celebration of being one’s self.  So to those of you hiding in the shadows, come out, come out, wherever you are.  Cheers.

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By: Tanya Ward Goodman

Last night, when I opened the door to greet my daughter as she arrived home from school she looked up at me and said, “When our friends and family members die, my heart will break open.”

She is five and a half going on thirty.  Part Hello Kitty, part Sarah Bernhardt.  She is devastatingly sad and ragingly angry and her heart (broken or not) is huge and juicy and filled with passion.  She is clearly the child of my womb.

I moved aside, to let her walk into the house.

“Did something happen to make you sad?”  I asked.

“Just thinking about death,” she replied, skipping into the dining room and doing a little twirl.  “Look what I’ve got.”

She held out a white paper tub.  Beneath a circle of mesh on the lid a mass of small black bodies moved together — shiny black legs and abdomens and an occasional flash of enameled red wings.

“Ladybugs!  They’re ready for an aphid buffet.”

As Sadie made plans to set the ladybugs free in our cauliflower bed where they would decimate the population of aphids, I went back to stirring the risotto on the stove.  My kids have been to several funerals and memorial services.  They are interested in cemeteries and know what a casket is for.  Sadie will often tell people that we have three pets and three graves, which, though slightly disconcerting, is true.  We’ve lost an old cat, a hamster and a fish and we’ve still got an old cat, a hamster and a fish, so chances are this loss is not going to stop.

My dad died just over seven years ago.  When Sadie was three she could not stop asking, “So your Dad is dead, right?”  At first this question brought tears to my eyes, but after awhile, I kept answering and answering and it opened the way to a lot of long conversations.

“Yes, my Dad is dead,” I said.  And Sadie and her brother wondered what happened next.  We talked about heaven and reincarnation and the possibility that this life, here and now, is all we’ve got.  Theo likes the idea of heaven because he wants to know he will continue to move around and Sadie hopes there are angels because they have beautiful wings.  We talked about how dinosaurs might be reincarnated into people, but how they most likely evolved into birds.  We all think it’s nice to imagine that there is a kind of observatory where our loved ones can train telescopes on our lives and gaze at us for a few minutes.

The risotto finished cooking, my son hopped out of the bath and Sadie returned from the garden smiling.  She’d tipped out her little bucket of live things and now she was set on making a necklace for the cat.  Sometimes the workings of her mind are so fluid, it’s hard to keep up.  My dad was this way.  I hope he’s watching.

By: K. Pearson Brown

The reviews from Sundance so far have been very favorable about this new movie. Darn, couldn’t get a screener from the production company yet so I could review it myself. I can’t wait to see it!

A couple, Nic and Jules (Annette Benning and Julianne Moore), live with their teenage children, Joni and Laser (Mia Wasikowska and Josh Hutcherson), in a cozy craftsman bungalow in Los Angeles. As Joni prepares for college, her younger brother pesters her for a big favor—help him find their biological father. Against her better judgment, she makes a call to the sperm bank; the bank, in turn, calls Paul (Mark Ruffalo) and asks him if he’s willing to meet his daughter. He agrees, and a complicated new chapter begins for the family.

Director Lisa Cholodenko returns to Sundance (Laurel Canyon played at the 2003 Festival, and High Art won the Waldo Salt Screenwriting Award at the 1998 Festival) with this vibrant, astute, and richly drawn portrait of a modern family. Once again, Cholodenko demonstrates her uncanny ability to reach beneath the gloss of Southern California to illuminate the emotional and transformative power of human vulnerability and, in doing so, establishes herself as one of America’s most formidable auteurs.

Out With Mommy

To Doula

By: Heidi Biddle

I have been blessed with three babies.  Well, I say ”babies”, but they are nearly 17, 14, and 9.  I remember each one of their births like it was yesterday. Without saying I was naive, when it came to the births of my children, I thought I had it all planned out.

For my first birth, I wrote out a birth plan and looked forward to going through this with my support people.  I assumed the doctor would not only explain everything to us, but would also assist me through my whole labor and birth, all the while talking to me in a soothing voice, and urging me to go on. I thought the nurses would be there to support me and help me through this wonderful time. I knew that I wanted my husband, my sister, and my mom in the room when I had my baby-they would help me, too.  My birth plan was simple: “no drugs unless I am in pain and ask for some.” I prepared myself and my husband for what was surely going to be the most beautiful, sweet, peaceful, and incredible birth ever.

Then, I went into labor. I had an epidural at 3 cm. (as early as you can), but it didn’t work.  I felt it all, including the vacuum that was used to get him out.  My beautiful, perfect, cone-headed baby.

With my second, I got to the hospital at 8 cm. Then she just fell out! There was no doctor, no nurse – just my husband (who was freaking out and saying “is this supposed to be happening?”). Papers flying, husband holding baby in with his hand, my mom looking for help, and my sister -my poor sister -her jaw was on the floor and she looked as if she’d seen a ghost. Where were my support people?

By my third time around, I found a new doctor. I explained that I was a natural at this, and I knew how I wanted it. I wanted no drugs. My babies came fast!  My husband was going to catch this one, he was going to cut the cord, and I would have a mirror so I could watch my baby be born. I wanted my precious baby placed immediately on my chest – skin to skin – and I wanted to breastfeed right away. Period. I reminded my doctor of my plan at every single visit; this is how it was going to be. I explained that my husband was my coach, and we wanted to labor alone. It was going to be beautiful (in hindsight, I was my own doula!).  I wanted NO intervention.

At 43 weeks pregnant (yes, that’s right, world’s longest pregnancy), I had to be induced. The doctor was afraid my baby would be 10 pounds. I cried all the way to the hospital…I didn’t want to be induced! I knew my baby would come when he was ready. I didn’t understand why they wanted me to get him out if he wasn’t ready. So what if he was 10 pounds?  I was sure my body could do it! I sulked all the way through the pitocin drip. I labored away with no pain meds. I was offered drugs frequently, and turned them down every time.  I owed this to my baby. I was 9 cm. dilated and ready to push when my doctor came in and recommended an epidural; he thought it would slow things down a bit and give me some energy for pushing (it turned out he was delivering twins right next door, and they were coming fast). I rolled over to my side, ready to do what he asked, because he recommended it.  Before they had time to administer anything, out came my baby’s head!  The doctor ran back into the room, caught my baby, cut the cord himself, handed him to a nurse to clean him up, dumped my placenta, then left to deliver the twins next door.

My husband missed the whole thing. My husband – who couldn’t wait to catch our baby -missed the whole thing. I missed the whole thing. There was no mirror, no control, no husband cutting the cord, no respect, no birth plan, no empathy, no baby placed skin-to-skin on my chest, and most of all, no 10 pound baby.  He was 7 lbs, 6 oz.

I can’t help but wonder how different these births -especially my third -would have been if I’d had someone knowledgeable in my corner who understood both the medical lingo and the process of labor and birth, someone who knew exactly what I wanted and would help me to achieve that.  Someone not emotionally tied to me, who would have stood up for me -my very own advocate. I vowed immediately after my third and final birth that I was going to do something about that.

When I meet with clients, they are usually only entertaining the thought of a doula.  They mostly want to know why they should hire another person to assist them when they already have a support person – whether it’s a spouse, a friend or a partner.  Furthermore, most couples believe that the doctor (whom they have grown extremely close to), midwife, and nurses will be in the room, by their side, supporting them through their entire labor and explaining everything as it is going on.  Experience has shown me that this is not always the case.  Next to the partner, a doula is the only person looking out for the mother’s best interests 100% of the time.  Whether it is a precipitous (very fast ) labor, or a 70-hour labor, a doula is there the entire time to help the mother achieve the birth experience she wants to have. While the nurses (and I have seen many good ones) do offer support, their primary job is to chart, document, and monitor both mom and baby at all times.

I help my clients come up with a birthing plan.  The parents outline their perfect birth and together we address the “what-ifs” (”should you end up having a C-section, let’s make the environment as pleasant as we can”).  Most people don’t think about these things on their own.  A doula also helps to remind the parents of the birth plan. When the unforeseen happens, or if chaos arises, the doula is an advocate -the ONLY advocate –for the parents. At a time when women are the most vulnerable, usually in pain, and the oxytocin (often called the ”trust drug”) levels are high, a woman will typically do whatEVER the healthcare providers say is best, which can often veer away (sometimes unnecessarily) from the original plan.

I explain to the partners that one of the many benefits of having a doula is it allows them to do their job –to love and support the mother.  Partners (men in particular) do not realize how hard it is to see the mother in pain;  they want to fix it, take the pain away. With a doula, the partner can focus solely on the mother and be reassured that everything else is being handled.  I remind the support person to eat, drink, and take care of themselves, which is the only way they will be able to take care of a laboring mom.

My most important job as a doula is to remind parents that this is their birth journey. You will never get a do-over on the birth of your baby. Doulas do not speak for the parents – doulas explain the parents’ options as well as the actions of the doctors, midwives, or nurses. We remind the parents to ask all the questions….what are the benefits? What are the risks?  My favorite question to remind my clients to ask: “What happens if I just do nothing?”

Those who know me know that I am very passionate about what I do.  I feel very strongly about women and the healthy function of our bodies.  We were meant to birth.  And I have no regrets about the way I birthed my babies.  The only regret I have is not educating myself about pregnancy, labor, and childbirth. If I could have ten more babies, I would, and I would have a doula every time.   Now, as a doula myself, I am the liaison between parents and their perfect birth. You dream the dream, and I help make it come true.
More on Heidi Biddle at Your Birth Journey

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Not To Doula

By: Ernessa Carter

Here’s the thing about being a woman who knows she wants an epidural, taking pre-natal yoga classes in Silver Lake: You’re the only one.

So here’s me having to listen to a zen-ruining running monologue from every single prenatal yoga teacher about how certain exercises could help you through the worst of the birthing pain and prevent epidurals. And how yoga helped you to really BE in the experience of giving birth, even though I saw no reason at all to really BE one with the pain, just because that’s how my ancestors did it. At a few points I wanted to ask the prenatal yoga instructor to just shut up, so that I could get my stretch on in peace, but that wouldn’t have been very yogi of me, would it?

After class was even worse. I wanted to make friends. I didn’t know any other moms in Silver Lake, and this seemed like a great place to strike up friendships with like-minded people — only they weren’t like-minded. In fact, it was hard for me to join the conversation when it so often went like this:

“How are your doula interviews going?”

“Great! I found this really wonderful woman named so-and-so, but she doesn’t know if she’s going to have my due date open yet.”

“Oh, I’ve heard great stuff about so-and-so. Doesn’t she use a tub?”

“Yes, and she also chants out these primal rhythms…”

“Oh, she sounds nice. Mine does massage, but she doesn’t chant.”

Okay, obviously I can’t join this conversation, because just the idea of a stranger in the room giving me gentle encouragement while I’m in tons of pain makes me want to rip her head off.

Also, deep down inside, I’m just too nice. I would feel bad about snapping at someone who wasn’t married or related to me. Even if they were getting paid to get snapped at.

But most of all, I didn’t want a doula because there was absolutely nothing a doula could do that my husband couldn’t. Also, my husband wouldn’t insist that I do breathing exercises when I didn’t want to. My husband would rub my back just like a doula would — even better: he wouldn’t rub my back, because I don’t like to be touched when I’m in pain. See, he already knows that, whereas a doula doesn’t. No matter how nice she is, she would try to help me when I didn’t want to be helped and push me when I didn’t want to be pushed. And quite frankly, that’s my husband’s job. He already sorta said he would do everything a doula would in his vows, and I wanted him to make good on his promise.

He did everything right. He retreated when he was supposed to and though we had attended birthing classes, unlike my first charge nurse, he didn’t try to force me to do the stupid breathing exercises, when I told him I didn’t want to.  He didn’t question my need to blog through my contractions, but he did forcibly take the iPhone away after my epidural, so that I could get some sleep. He didn’t sleep, though. And he was by my side as soon as I woke up. He held my hand and changed the TV station and fed me ice chips and promised me Fig Newtons as soon as I was done with the labor. “You’re doing so well, honey” he answered, when I told him “I can’t! I can’t!” And then he cried when our daughter Betty finally came bursting into this world. Now would a doula have done that?

I watched him over at the scale, giving Betty soothing words as she screamed about getting weighed. And though I did most of the heavy lifting, I knew he was just as happy as I to finally meet her. That’s when I realized something for the first time in nine months: It was his pregnancy, too. And his support during my labor had created a bond that would never be undone. Be it Death or Divorce or Disaster, we would always have these hours holding us together, a forever memory. And I’m so happy I didn’t let a doula cheat me out of that.

Ernessa T. Carter is the author of the novel, 32 CANDLES, which will be released by HarperCollins/Amistad on June 22, 2010. Pre-order your copy on Amazon here.

More on Ernessa Carter at Fierce and Nerdy

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Email us your birth story and we may post it the week of Mother’s Day

momsday@thenextfamily.com

By: Brandy Black

Really?  My amazing, beautiful, smart, sweet child has CHANGED!  A few minutes out of each day, she becomes a TERROR.  What has happened to her? Everything is lovely, we’re laughing, having a tea party and she’ll walk up with a big smile and grab my cheek and pinch as hard as her little fingers can.

OUCH!

She will follow up with a frantic scratching and pinching.  Susan and I now have matching marks on our faces.  It hurts, for one, but worse –we can’t figure out how to make it stop.  We’ve tried ignoring, explaining, holding hands down, fake crying, all of it, and she still does it.

Is this just a phase that we have to ride out?  Is there a cure-all for this stage?  Is there a good book? Feel free to share your knowledge.  We need it and soon or my next blog photo will be Susan, Bailey (our dog) and me wrapped in bandages.

By: Brandy Black

I’m reading a book “Lesbian and Gay Parents and their Children” by Abbie Goldberg and it got me thinking about my passion for marriage or as some prefer to call it- commitment ceremony.  I will occasionally get into this debate with gay friends who don’t understand why it was so important for me to marry Susan.  At the time we had a ceremony, I didn’t even realize what it would mean to me.  Frankly, my mother talked me into it right after I “came out” to her.

The days leading up to my coming out were torturous and I was prepared for the absolute worst case scenario.  I was ready for my parents to be angry and hurt and quite possibly disown me.  I made myself sick night after night worrying about telling them the truth.  In my case it was the dishonesty and lies that were the worst of it all, because once I actually told my parents that I was in love with a woman, all of the baggage and pain I had been carrying around suddenly dissipated and I was able to love Susan to my fullest for the first time.

But in that conversation with my mom, me weeping and my mother accusing me of being homophobic as she couldn’t understand why I was the one so upset, she asked me if we were going to get married and have kids.  It had never occurred to me that this might be an option – this was 10 years ago when conversations about gay marriage were barely stirring in the media.   She then went on to explain to me the importance of committing to each other in front of friends and family.  “It’s not just for you but for the people around you who don’t understand the blurry lines of gay relationships, it’s a way to tell everyone that you are pledging to one another for the long haul.”

I thought about it a lot, what it would mean to “marry” Susan.  It seemed as if it was a dream come true, we were the renegades in my eyes, the naughty girls that were doing what we shouldn’t, even though it felt so right.  After talking to my mother, she disarmed me and made me realize we weren’t rebels, or bad girls, we were following our hearts and allowing ourselves the life that we deserved.  After getting “permission” to feel proud of my relationship from two of the people closest to me, I wanted a wedding more than ever.

Once we had the ceremony in front of 80 of our closest friends and family -when it wasn’t legal- life was different.  Something changed after we made those vows to each other.  We opened our hearts and let the other in, we were partners with a flood of trust and love for one another.  I can’t explain the meaning of it all but she shifted from my girlfriend to my life, I mean wife.

Now having gone through all that a wedding encompasses, a shower, a ceremony, registering and a honeymoon- it was all worth it.  The constant validation from all of the people in our lives was amazing.  We needed support, we wanted it and it came gushing our way. The speeches, the notes in our guest book, the tears that poured from our friends’ eyes as Susan and I walked through the sea of people to find each other, Susan standing beautifully before me in all her glory, my best friend becoming my wife.  That day was life changing.

So when people tell me that they are against marriage because of the fact that we are trying to “be like” heterosexual people- I say call it what you will but find a way to share your love publicly with your family because it will make all the difference in the world.

Why did Abbie’s book make me think to write this wordy blog…

“Qualitative research by Alderson (2004) provides evidence of some of the perceived effects of civil marriage among lesbians and gay men.  Alderson interviewed married lesbians and gay men in Canada and found that, for many participants, getting married created an added sense of security that was deeply felt and greatly appreciated.  Consistent with the findings of Solomon et al. (2005), Alderson also found that many participants felt that marriage brought greater depth and completion to their relationships, cementing them in both financial and emotional ways.  They also understood their marriage as symbolizing monogamy and as providing recognition for them as a family.”

This was true for me.

By: Brandy Black

There has been a debate in our house since Sophia was born. Do we…should we…have another child? We have been back and forth for 22 months and still have come to no real conclusion. It’s a tough decision and everyone always wants to “weigh in” as one of my favorite bloggers put so well in My one and only.
Today, we thought we’d give our daughter a chance to give her input. I asked
“Sophia do you want a brother or a sister?”
“A brother”
“What should we name him?”
Pause
“Pen”
My eyes welled with uncontrollable tears.

Let me explain…when I was all of 23, partying and with no good intentions of having children, I had a dream. It was powerful and I couldn’t shake it. In this dream I bore a son and I asked him what his name was and he said “Pen” and I said “P-E-N?” and he said “no, P-E-N-N”. That was it. I had told Susan this story when I was pregnant with Sophia, before we knew the sex. I said if it’s a boy we should name him Penn. She declined emphatically. I told her the story behind it and she didn’t really care. I guess I didn’t care either.
And now Sophia at random chooses this name, what could this mean?

Later this afternoon, after we laughed and cried at the irony of it all, I was shopping with Sophia. My boobs started killing me, it became unbearable and reminded me of “let down” when you’re breastfeeding. For those of you that don’t know what this term means… when your baby begins to nurse, hormones are released that cause your milk to flow. This is called the “let-down reflex”. So here I am in the dressing room with Sophia and my boobs throb, I look down and sure enough I’m lactating!

What a day. My boobs kill, my mind is frazzled and my heart is torn.

By: Tosha Woronov

Well I did it. I learned to knit. Marcy and May, two cuties at Stitch Cafe, taught me in about 45 minutes how to make a scarf.

Here it is, so far.
I love doing it, I love that my fingers and 2 sticks are actually making something a person could (but probably will not want to) wear.

But I would not call this relaxing. How do you find the time?
“Ok, Leo, I will play with you as soon as I finish this scarf. It will only take 7 or 8 weeks.”
I thought I could knit while watching a movie with Pete, but every time I looked up at the screen I would screw something up (which is very stressful. I was not taught how to fix mistakes, only to not make them).

I also cannot imagine how to make anything other than a scarf. I fantasize about making a hat –or gloves! Fingers must be a real bitch.

Marcy said the ball of yarn with which I knit is enough for one scarf, but I have no idea what happens when I get to the end of the ball.

This might be it, my one knit wonder.

By: Brandy Black

So as promised I went to my local library and researched the children’s books for children with gay parents. I had addressed this in a previous post Always Learning because a fellow reader of The Next Family told me that in Seattle the children’s books for gay families are in the adult section. I am proud to report that Los Angeles Public Library keeps these books in the Juvenile (Children’s) section. I was pleased to find this out but the selection was very limited. There were only 3 books available at the branch I went to. I have since decided to compile a list to give to my local librarian in hopes that they will consider enhancing their selection.
Here is my list- send me comments if you can think of anymore:

And Tango Makes Three
King and King
Heather Has Two Moms
One Dad, Two Dad, Brown Dad, Blue Dad
Emma and Meesha My Boy
Mum and Mum Are Getting Married
Mommy, Mama and Me
Oh The Things Mommies Do

By: Brandy Black

“Oh, actually Susan’s Mom and I’m Mama.”

This is a phrase that I have repeated multiple times with various family and friends over the last couple weeks. Every time I say this annoying, yet incredibly important phrase it reminds me of a conversation Susan had with a friend a while back.

Said friend was complaining to her about a couple lesbians who always tell him what to call them in relation to their children.

“Why is it so important who’s mom and who’s mommy, they seem to get so uptight about it.”

At that time our daughter wasn’t even talking, so Susan didn’t really know how to answer the question –she hadn’t given it much thought. But now…now we get it.

Although we gay people might irritate straight folks with the emphasis of a title in the presence of our children, it is truly important to us. See, I think people forget how lucky they are to have a built in name- mom, mommy, dad, daddy. These are things that a child is born knowing. Names that are universal- everyone knows who they are talking about when a child shouts at the top of their lungs….DADDY!
When little Sophia asks for Mama, there is either an awkward pause or a quick assumption as to which one of us she might want. This is generally the case unless we give a brief family vocabulary lesson. Many times our definitions go in one ear and out the other and I find myself a broken record and probably rather “uptight”.

My 9-year-old niece, Jenna, got it right every time and I hadn’t even schooled her yet. She took it upon herself to do her research and she called me by my given name and Susan by hers. She even corrected her mom when she would slip up.

“Mom, Brandy’s Mama and Susan’s Mom.”

It was truly touching. Thank you, Jenna, for your sweet, heartfelt attention to detail; it didn’t go unnoticed by me, Susan or Sophia.