Tell It.

This weekend my family, like many others, headed out to spend some time with the rest of our clan. We went to Denver, where Mama Bear's brother lives with the sweetest little girl in the world, our niece, who was celebrating her one year birthday. We had a great time, especially at the birthday party, where I found myself drawn to the garage with the "men folk" who were drinking beer, watching Nascar and poking fun at each other. There, I met many new people, each of whom congratulated me on the Baby Bear. I found community with them, as the non-birth parent of a kiddo, and we bonded over the things that parents have in common...which is nearly everything, no matter whether they lie down at night with a person of their same or a different gender. Not a one of them blinked at the fact that Tommy had two mommies, nor did the many kids who were there. It just was a fact of life, despite the fact that we were the only two mommy family many of them have ever met.

While this scene was playing out across our country, the governor of Minnesota vetoed the "Safe Schools for All" bill, which simply sought to protect kids like my Baby Bear, kids who are different in some way (yes, including ones just like Baby Bear who have two moms, but also ones who have a disability, or ones who are immigrants to this country, or ones who have funny ears) from bullying. While I was finding community with people who are so different and yet so amazingly similar to me, my governor was reinforcing that my family, my amazing, gorgeous, remarkable son, was not worthy of protection.

And it may seem, from the scene at the birthday party, that perhaps the Safe Schools for All bill isn't necessary, when even Nascar loving, beer-drinking guys and their kids don't blink at a two mommy family. But sadly, we all know this isn't true. One needs only to look at recent news reports of children, babies really, killing themselves because kids "thought" they were gay to realize that this bill would have really meant something.

But our governor, for his own personal biased reasons, chose to veto something that the representatives of the people of Minnesota resoundingly approved. Maybe because the word "bully" (the bill was often referred to as "anti-bullying legislation") hit a bit too close to home for someone who used a holiday weekend to hide his cowardice. Or maybe because he's never shared a beer with two mommies, or looked at their son and realized our kiddo is no different than his kids, and worthy of all the same protection. For whatever reason, our governor doesn't get that. But I'm going to make damn sure that every person I get to share a beer or a kid story with from now on does.

As we enter the month of Pride, I will dedicate myself to coming out as lesbian parent EVERY CHANCE I GET. You should do the same.

Signs and Signals

Have you ever felt like someone is trying to tell you something, but you're just not sure of the message? Like it's on one of those radio stations that comes in as you're driving along the interstate: strong at one minute, fading the next, static often filling the space in between? I feel like I've been getting one of those rural radio messages this week, though I think I know where this one is coming from.

The first time I picked up the signal was this past week, when I watched my dear Mama Bear win a much-deserved award for the work she does. Her speech was amazing and inspiring, and the award hard-earned, the product of equal parts amazing work ethic, crazy determination and the strongest sense of justice I've ever witnessed. Though I didn't realize it then, I think that moment was the first time I came across this phantom station. Faint, full of static, but definitely noticeable.

The second and third times both happened today. Once when a colleauge told me about his relative, a young man in high school who, in an embodiment of bravery, came out to all of his friends and family at a party. At a time of year when things generally weigh heavy on my heart (my father's death, my estranged mother's birthday and my birthday all fall this month) this story brought so much joy to my day. The fact that my co-worker felt the same, and realized it would have this effect for me made it even sweeter. I often feel like such an outsider in the land of wedding pictures and marital privilege, that feeling completely connected to someone there was amazing.

The third event arrived even more unexpectedly, like when you lose a station and for some reason forget to tune to something else, and then suddenly, out of nowhere, the sound begins again a few miles down the road. Yeah, this was one of those kind of shocks. It happened as I was checking Facebook (because who knows how many important things happened between work and this evening) and it was, quite simply, one of the top three emails I've ever read. No amount of paraphrasing or explanation could do it justice, so I'm just pasting it below, with any identifying information omitted:

You may or may not remember me from...softball or the eight days that I spent at your college...but, you, I will never forget!

Years ago, my cousin told me that you came out to her. I was outwardly shocked, but inwardly relieved. At that point I knew that I would have to do the same sometime in the future, but I had never known another person that was gay and had no idea how to go about it. Thanks for making the world seem a little less scary.

How amazing is that? I mean really, just out of the blue, the nicest email I've ever read. Someone reaching out to say "thanks for making the word seem a little less scary." Because isn't that what we're all trying to do, especially once we become parents? Just make this place a little less scary for those coming after us?


Taken individually, each of these things would be nice, touching, maybe even worthy of a blog post on their own. But taken together? All three of these lined up in a row during this, the hardest week of every year? These are more than a coincidence or luck. These events were a signal, just as real as the station carrying bad country through the static in Missouri, Nebraska or Ohio. And I'm starting to get the message.

You see, when I came out those many years ago, when the news was spreading from cousin to cousin, and through the web of information in my hometown, that estranged mother of mine didn't take it very well. And my father, though he didn't take it so well at first, eventually came around, and had only one concern. "I just always hoped your life would be a little easier than mine" he once said "and knowing this, I just think it might not be." Years later, after he was gone, that estranged mother (for one of the reasons she's estranged) tried to tell me, in a letter of all places, that my father never was okay with me being gay, that he never truly accepted me or my life.

And if I didn't know then that she was wrong, I sure do now. That message arrived bit by bit since Saturday, and came in loud and clear today, and I know it came from my father. I know that the message I received from that long lost friend was really my dad's way of letting me know that he's aware, wherever he is, that things are okay, my life is a bit easier than his, and that, at least for some folks that have followed in my path, life is a little less scary.

Adoption Day

On February 12, 2009 at 10:45 AM, the State of Minnesota acknowledged what anyone who has known our family has known for months, I am Baby Bear's parent. Below are remarks I gave that afternoon, at a Freedom to Marry rally at our State Capitol.

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Hello, my name is Kathy Davis, though most people call me Davis. Thank you for allowing me to speak to you today, and thank you for coming out to support something you believe in.

This morning, I adopted my 6 month old son Tommy. It was a cause for celebration , so my family was there. We now have another special day, along with Tommy's birthday, another reason for our family to gather together more often to celebrate our family. However, this special day, this new important date in our family’s calendar, never should have had to happen. I never should have had to have my fingerprints taken or submit to a background check to see if I could legally be a parent to my child. Because I have been Tommy's parent since he was born. I have been Tommy's parent since before he was born. I was there when he was conceived, there for every prenatal appointment, there when he was born, there to cut the cord. I've been there for my son through all of this, yet until today, the State of Minnesota never recognized me as his parent, because his mother and I are not married. And we can't get married, because the State of Minnesota doesn't recognize our love as real, or the two of us as equal citizens.

Were we able to be married, my lovely partner Jennifer - my son's mother - could have simply filled out a form that the state sent along with Tommy's birth certificate application, I could have signed my name, and just like that, be recognized as his parent. Were we able to be married, we wouldn't have had to prepare countless forms before he was born, for fear something would happen to him or Jennifer, and I, a "legal stranger" would not be able to be with either of them.

Legal stranger. That is a term. Think about that. Think about the fact that in the eyes of the State of Minnesota, until this morning Tommy was, and Jennifer still is, nothing to me, and I am nothing to them. In the eyes of the State, the years we've been together, loving each other through struggles and achievements, the support we've given each other, the home that we've made and that became home to numerous wayward animals and now a son, our son, all of that is nothing. Our family, our beautiful family that even strangers notice with a smile, that family is nothing in the eyes of the law.

And there are people that would tell me, even now, "No, that's not what we're saying, we're just saying you can't get married. And we're just saying that because, well, because it's better for children to have a man and a woman as parents…or that's what the Bible says…or, that's just the way it's always been here." But you know what? That's a bunch of bull. I know that each of those reasons can be debunked through logic, and experience, and just plain common sense. I believe that many of the people making those arguments know they are invalid, and use them to play on the ignorance, the misguidance and the fear of a shrinking population of Americans who do not recognize or respect non-traditional families. It must be for some more significant reason than that the State of Minnesota just wants me, and you, and every family and person like us to know, without a doubt, that we are nothing, or far less than others, not equal to them.

If that's not the case, if this state and the people that make the laws here do value me, and my family, and you and your family, and the countless other families like ours, then what reason do we have left to prevent us from declaring that love? What reason do we have to force me and parents like me to have to answer the question one day from our own children, "Mommies, why aren't you married?" What reason should I tell my son? What reason could I give him that wouldn't tell him that people thought it was wrong for his moms to get married? Can you think of any reason other than "..because our State, the State that we've chosen to make our home in, doesn't value your mommies like they do some other parents?" or "Because our family is different?" or maybe because speaking of "gay marriage" in generic terms allowed some of the people we trusted to run our state to say those things without really saying them?

That's why I chose to come here today, to share my story with you. To share Tommy's story with you, to share my family's story with you. Because talking about "gay marriage" like it's something esoteric or up for debate is one thing, but looking my family in the eye, looking my son in the eye and explaining why I wasn't his mommy - really - until just this morning, is quite another.

My partner's grandmother, an amazing woman we call Granny Mary was the one who originally inspired us to have a baby. We visit Granny Mary in Missouri a few times a year, and on one of those visits, seemingly out of the blue, she asked "When are you two going to have a baby? I saw something on the tv about kids with gay parents, and they seemed just fine." About a year later, we called Granny Mary to tell her our big news. Her initial response was a question "Well is this baby going to know its daddy?" And we explained that no, we had chosen an anonymous donor. Her response, something I will never forget was "Good…that baby don't need a Daddy, it's got a Davis."

Granny Mary, at 80 years old, has seen a lot. She's seen enough to know that love is love, people are people, and a Davis is just as valuable as a Daddy. Granny Mary gets it, so why is the State of Minnesota so far behind? Why can't they realize that what's wrong with this world certainly isn't that there are too many people loving each other. Because love is all we're really talking about isn't it? Just love, and the formal declaration of it? Wouldn't this world be a better place if we all did a bit more of that, a bit more declaring of love?

Today, in a courtroom in Minneapolis, I declared my love for my son. I thank the State of Minnesota for the opportunity, but it shouldn't have had to happen. I declare my love every day, several times a day, and I did it before he was officially my son. Tommy has always been my son. To me, to our family, to the strangers we meet on the street, Tommy has always been my son. To everyone except the State of Minnesota, Tommy's always been my boy, and I've always been his mommy, his Davis. I don't need the State to tell me that, but I need the State to be willing to say it. Until then, no matter how long I've loved him and no matter how many people call him my son, I'm just a legal stranger. It's not right, and no one can convince me or Granny Mary that it is. Don't let them convince you.

If You Go Down to the Woods Today...

The title of this post is from a song I loved as a child. I hope Baby Bear is going to like it too, though I seem to have lost the tape that played it (and come to think of it, we don't have any devices that play tapes in our house anyway).

The reason for the title, however, is that the Bears are coming to town today. (The song is Teddy Bear Picnic, and it's kind of scary, considering we're talking about teddy bears and not real bears in the song....Google the lyrics, they're kind of ominous.) I'm excited about their arrival, because they are, quite honestly, the best in-laws anyone could ever ask for. And I'm not saying that because I think they might read this blog, because they don't even know about it. So there. I'm saying it because it's true.

Grandpa and Grandma Bear are the hardest working folks you'll ever meet. They never stop asking what they can do, or better yet, just figuring out what needs to be done and doing it. Grandpa Bear reminds me in many ways of my father.

My father, Baby Bear's grandpa who he will never get to meet, was the exact same way. I remember vividly the day he came to visit and I asked how to fix a drawer that was off its tracks. Instead of doing it himself, he told me how I could do it. I remember feeling proud, but strangely sad about that interaction. I was proud thinking that he now viewed me as such a grown-up that he wanted me to do it myself, and sad thinking that somehow that made me less his baby.

I now know, looking at the dates of that visit, that he was beginning to lose his fight with cancer at that point. This was the reason he did not offer to fix the drawer, because the fight his body was raging against itself just left him too damn tired. That was the turning point, the beginning of the end, and from that point forward, it was only through his sheer determination that he fought it off.

He fought because I was to graduate later that year, and nothing was going to make him miss that. I was his baby, and I was accomplishing something no one in our family had. Not because of lack of drive or discipline, or intelligence, but because I had far more opportunity and privilege than any family member before me. That was his doing, so I thank whoever was responsible for letting him see the fruits of his labor that year.

I do miss him though, often more when the Bears are in town, thinking of how many wonderful and amazing things could be done in our house with my father and Grandpa Bear working together. We'd likely have a swimming pool, or an addition, or at least a basement that doesn't leak water in strange places. I know he's watching though, and will be through all of what is to come for Mama Bear and me in the next few weeks.

And I know he'll be watching Baby Bear throughout his entire life. When I was a kid in Catholic school (again, two mentions in two posts!) they told us we had guardian angels to watch over us. They never explained who these people were, and I found it slightly troubling that some randomly assigned angel was deciding what I should and shouldn't do. I mean, where was the line between my free will and their helpful guiding hand? How did the assigner of the guardian angels know how to match us up? Did I get a gay one? The questions went on and on (much to the chagrin of religion teachers).

Guardian angels are not high on the list of my beliefs, but I do believe that those who have truly loved us, and gone before us to wherever it is we go, keep an eye on those of us who are still back here. I will sometimes catch myself thanking my Dad when I remember something important, or narrowly miss some calamity or another, or have something really great happen. And if I know my father at all, he'll certainly be looking out for Baby Bear.

So, with the Bears here in the everyday, and my dad looking on from afar, you should be just fine Baby Bear. Just fine. Despite the fact that Mama Bear and I may not know the slightest bit about choosing a baby monitor (?!?! have you ever seen the choices available?) or actually putting those cloth diapers on a human baby. Honestly, it will be okay. But now, it's time for me to get moving, so I can be ready for the cavalcade of projects that is a visit from my in-laws.

Ready or Not, Here He Comes!

I'm not sure that this blog should start yet, as the true reason for it won't be here for at least a few more weeks, but I'm still typing, so I guess it will, whether I'm sure or not. That's quite an apt way to start for this subject, since our family is about to change in much the same way. Here he comes, ready or not. I suppose I should explain all of this, lest this blog become some sort of Virgina Woolf "To the Lighthouse"-esque in media res exercise in literary devices. (Ohhh, I love it when that English major my father found questionable comes in handy for sentences like that!!) So without further ado, it begins....

I am a soon to be lesbian mama of what I suspect will be a brutally handsome baby boy. I suspect this, because my partner, who we will call Mama Bear, is, quite honestly, the must beautiful and glowing pregnant woman ever, save for possibly the Virgin Mary. (Before you get all up in arms and suspect I am some Bible-thumping homo, you should know something. I'm a recovering Catholic-14 years clean-but some old habits die hard, so when I refer to all things Catholic, know that it is not in any sort of devout way). Mama Bear resembles one particular old-time movie beauty, and has an amazing laugh and perfectly proportioned features, so I'm glad she's donating half of her DNA to this fellow, because he's bound to be a heartbreaker.

But let's get back to the point, shall we? And that point was me. Me, the most amazingly lucky dyke, who in a few weeks will get to see Mama Bear bring this little man into our home, and watch as her pregnancy glow changes into the glow of a thoroughly exhausted but, I suspect, ecstatically happy new Mama Bear.

So our family is about to change in ways I'm sure we can't even imagine. Or might not want to. Or may be unable to due to some survival instinct adaptation of the species that won't let you know what you're in for, because if you did no one would ever give birth. Who knows, but I do know it's about to change.

This weekend, however, is Pride, and Mama Bear and I have a lot to be proud of. We've both overcome a fair number of obstacles in our day, and have both worked hard to get to a place where we enjoy our jobs (most days) and are doing something we each love. We have some great pets and a great family on the Bear side, despite what that Goldilocks story may have you believe. We have a great home that we will actually own in 28 or so years (why do people say they own their homes? No you don't, the bank owns your home, you rent from the bank), and on many days, that home is filled with friends and neighbors that we love like family.

All in all, we have a lot to be proud of, but this will be the last year we are not "proud parents." It's strange and wonderful and exciting and scary and crazy-making to contemplate that, especially given that I often feel as if college was yesterday and that someone should really be paying closer attention to me, lest I hurt myself. But, someone, somewhere, saw fit to send those $300+ per vial sperm hurtling into Mama Bear's egg about 9 months ago, so we'll be the ones paying attention quite soon.

I don't know what I intend to do with this blog, but I feel like it's important to get thoughts and pictures all together some place, so that this little man can someday look and know how very much he is loved. Some of my own larger obstacles grew from a place of not knowing that, so this guy, my guy, is going to know that better than anything, and starting even now, before he confirms that handsomeness that I know is on the way. So, sit back and get ready, because things are about to change, ready or not.