“‘Families come in all shapes and sizes. The most important thing is the love we have for one another!’ This is a conversation I’ve been having with my 3½-year-old son, August, ever since he started noticing that our family looks a little different from the ones he sees in books and on TV. It’s a question many kids ask, and it’s one I answer with honesty, warmth, and reassurance.
I have been raising August as a single mother since the day he was born, when I was just 19. His biological father has never been a consistent presence in his life, and for safety reasons, he is legally prohibited from contacting him. While this is absolutely for the best, it has been difficult helping a little boy begin to understand this reality. On top of that, over the past year, I’ve come to terms with another truth about myself—I feel most comfortable identifying as a lesbian.
Coming to this realization was complicated for many reasons. Part of me questioned whether I could truly be gay, because I had already had a child and been in a relationship with a man. Another part of me feared admitting the truth because I worried about what it would mean for August. He had already endured so much upheaval and instability, and I felt guilty, believing that adding a gay parent to the mix might create even more challenges for him. But over time, I’ve realized that a happy, authentic parent is far more beneficial than a parent hiding their truth to fit societal expectations.
Society often emphasizes the nuclear family as the “ideal,” but there are so many beautiful ways to be a family. Some families have a mother and father, some have two moms or two dads, some have a single parent, and others are raised by extended family or chosen guardians. The truth is, love—not labels—is what makes a family whole.
Looking back, I wish I had been exposed to more of these conversations growing up. I wouldn’t have felt so much guilt and confusion when figuring out who I truly am. I was raised in a selectively liberal, yet still very heteronormative, Christian household. Any mention of homosexuality was met with disgust or dismissal, and queer representation was virtually nonexistent. Yet even as a young girl, I knew I was attracted to girls. In high school, I labeled myself as potentially bisexual but kept it private, holding onto the hope that I might still end up with a man. After all, growing up, everything I was taught centered around the “American dream” of marriage, house, and children, and my mother had instilled in me the importance of male validation and adhering to traditional beauty standards.
This environment, compounded by the pressures and beliefs ingrained in me, created what I now recognize as compulsory heterosexuality. I sought validation from men while simultaneously criticizing myself, never learning to truly feel confident and comfortable in my own body. Despite some positive growth in my family’s understanding of LGBTQIA issues by 2021, the impact of those early years left its mark.
When I met August’s father, I was a few months shy of turning 18. I was vulnerable and struggling, and he took advantage of that. He manipulated me and subjected me to mental, physical, and sexual abuse. Each time I tried to leave, he threatened self-harm, exploiting the trauma I had already experienced after my mother’s suicide. Our relationship was terrifying and toxic, but I didn’t fully grasp the danger I was in. This was my first relationship, and I lacked healthy references for love and trust. In the cycle of abuse, it was terrifyingly confusing—pain followed by declarations of love—which had become disturbingly familiar to me from childhood trauma.
At 18, I became pregnant despite using the Nexplanon birth control implant. I still have the scar to this day. During my pregnancy, I attempted to make the relationship work, primarily due to societal and familial pressures to give my child a “perfect family.” But I now understand there is no single definition of a perfect family, and that mindset can be damaging in a world full of diverse family structures. When August was born, at 19, I faced the reality of motherhood with everything I had at the time, determined to protect and nurture my child.
Looking into my baby’s eyes, I realized the fantasy of a “happy family” was gone. I saw only reality, and in that moment, clarity replaced illusion. Six weeks postpartum, once my body had recovered, I left August’s father for good. I packed our belongings and moved us into the spare room at my grandparents’ house. Those 2½ years living with them were transformative. I earned my GED, graduated from trade school with a 4.0 GPA, became a certified medical assistant, secured a job in both pediatrics and dermatology, saved money, got my own car, and eventually found our own home—all while raising August as a single mom.
I couldn’t have done it alone. My family’s support has been invaluable, especially after I came out. Quarantine gave me time to sit with myself, confront feelings I had long avoided, and truly understand my authentic self. I realized my previous “attraction” to men was tied to validation I was conditioned to seek, rather than genuine romantic or emotional desire. Once I embraced my identity as a lesbian, it was like a weight lifted off my shoulders. I felt comfortable in my body, confident in my choices, and at peace with who I am.
Coming out to family and friends was met with understanding and love. My grandmother’s words, “The lesbian thing doesn’t surprise me, and it doesn’t change anything,” were a reminder that acceptance is possible, even in places I once feared. My younger self would be shocked and reassured by how supportive everyone was.
Now, at 23, I have spent nearly four years growing with August, and these have been the happiest years of my life. I genuinely love being a single mother. I treasure experiencing life alongside my child, making decisions freely, and enjoying moments without unnecessary drama. Motherhood has given me joy, purpose, and a sense of fulfillment I never imagined.
Thinking about August’s future, I wanted him to have a sibling close in age. Coming out as a lesbian single mom opened the possibility of having a second child via sperm donor, ensuring a sibling connection while allowing me to maintain full control over the family structure. This approach also avoids the legal and emotional complications I faced with August’s father. In spring 2021, I conceived my second child through artificial insemination on the first attempt—a miracle. August is over the moon to be a big brother, and our family is thrilled to welcome a new little one.
I feel truly blessed to be where I am today. Life as a single lesbian mom to two children may seem unconventional to some, but it’s perfect for us. I am committed to raising my children in a home filled with love, acceptance, and empathy. Their questions and experiences may be different, but my intention has always been to provide a supportive, inclusive environment. Motherhood, in all its forms, is my pride, my joy, and my purpose. Happy Pride Month!”
