Coming Out…A Few Days Late

As many of you know, the past few days have been hectic for us here in Non-belly Mama land!  I have been reading many of your coming out stories in honor of National Coming Out Day and they have been awesome!  I also have a coming out story, but mine is very different from the ones that I have read.

I was 14 years old.  My siblings and I were the “popular” kids in school, and not for any other reason than we were really well rounded.  We were all-star athletes, we excelled academically, we were funny, we were musical, and we were just a whole lot of fun.  We had awesome parents who never missed any of our games.  We were close, we stood up for one another, and more often than not, we covered each others butts!  We didn’t have “friends” per se, but we did have lots and lots of acquaintances.  We mostly went to school, went to sports, went to “extras”, and hung out at home doing the crapload of chores that our parents assigned daily.

Freshman year of high school was an…interesting…time for me.  A lot of self-discovery.  A lot of writing poetry.  A lot of time alone.  I joined the musical theater group and met a rather eccentric group of kids that in a short period of time, I ended up calling my friends.  We started spending a lot of time together.  We would go to each others houses and watch movies, mostly really artsy stuff (theater kids!), make our own movies, and just random shenanigans.  At some point I knew that something was different about me.  I knew that what I felt for Dee, one of the girls in our little circle of friends was something that I shouldn’t be feeling, not because anyone told me it was wrong but because I knew that no one else was like me.  Or at least I thought.  One day we went to watch “Boys Don’t Cry” at a small theater in Bronxville, and something clicked.  All of a sudden the 4 Spice Girl poster covered walls in my bedroom made sense (no seriously!! EVERY INCH! Like $300 of my McDonald’s paycheck for tickets for my younger sister and I. Like tear away Adidas pants in every color! Like all the CD’s, movies, interviews! TOTALLY OBSESSED).  All of my acquaintances were in love with BSB and N’Sync, and I just didn’t get it!  Dee and I cried through the movie, and at some point, I reached over and grabbed her hand and she didn’t pull away.  She held it back, and ran her thumb back and forth along the side of my thumb.  It send shivers down my spine.  Even though my head said, “NOOOOOO!!!!”, my heart said, “OMG!! IS THIS REALLY HAPPENING!”  That day began a serious affair of some massive hand holding!

At this point in time it had been close to 2 months of really understanding who I was thanks to researching on Ask Jeeves (which took forever because those were Dial-up days), and realizing that I, at all of 14, was “A Gay”.  A bonafide lesbian.  I started decorating my bunk, my backpack, wearing bracelets, and socks with rainbows on them.  A few weeks and lots of hand holding (in secret) later, I had my friends to my house for a movie marathon night of Gia, If These Walls Could Talk Too, and Better Than Chocolate. My mom kept coming into my room and offering a ton of treats and sweets, water, juice, soda, dinner. We had to keep pausing the movie because we didn’t want her to see all the nudity and lesbian sex scenes.  I was totally freaked that my mom would find out who I really was, and that she would have a total cow and send me off to go live with my grandparents or something. After a few hours, everyone went home.  Mom came into my room…

“I gwanna talking wishu baybee..” She sits on the edge of the bed

“What mom?!?!”, I say, completely exhausted and just wanting to go to bed.

“I berry like-a jew friengs!” She smiles genuinely

“They’re nice right?” I smile back.

“Pero, can I asking jew somesing”

“Si, mami.” I’m nervous

“I see jew have a lot of deh rainbow, eng jew friends, jew know, un poquito….i don’t know…maybe a little gay. I don’t know”

“Jesus mom! Seriously!?!” OH SHIT! She totally knows!

“Si, pero, dats ok! Jew know, if you, tu sabes, eres gay, bueno, I don’t care, becoz, I’m mami, eng I love jew! I love jew forebeh and dats ok! I know what means rainbow.  My seester is a gay tambien, eng I love her too.  And jew my daughter and i love you too. Mami loves jew, mucho ,mucho, mucho!”

“Mami, I’m gaaaayyyyyyyy.”

She hugs me, and I can’t control all the tears that have been inside of me for months. All of the hiding, all of the sneaking, all of the hand holding and all of the love that I felt, suddenly poured out of me and I couldn’t contain it.  My mothers love for me, her understanding, support and love, pulled me out of the closet kicking, screaming and crying.  It was probably one of the ugliest cries I’ve ever had, hyperventilating, snot and tears streaming down my face, and mami just held me. She held me and said she loved me.  That nothing was different.  That nothing changed.  That I was still her “nena especial” and that her love for me would never, ever change.  I was one of this lucky ones.  My mom found me a group for gay youth in the county that I live in.  She would pick me up and drop me off.  She would give me money for my friends and I to get pizza and ice cream afterwards.  She encouraged me to bring my friends over more often and to talk to her about my crushes and my relationships.  She told me that nothing was different. She hugged me more and she listened more.  She made it easier to come out.  And I did! Everywhere!

I came out at school, at church, at work, at sports and at extras.  I didn’t care who knew, because my mom knew and she loved me regardless.  My coming out story isn’t a story of regret, or triumph against the opposition, or heartache and pain.  It’s a story of a mother’s love for her daughter, and the strength, support and courage she gave her to become the person that she is today.





That is NOT a penis…unfortunately!


Every time we go to an ultrasound appointment, I kind of hope that they’ll be able to tell me what gender my babies are.  I know that it’s technically not possible yet, but what’s wrong with hoping right? Our 9 week ultrasound was no exception!

We get into the room, the Dr. steps out, and my Callie goes through the usual routine.  She quickly undresses before the Dr. comes back in (they’ve probably seen that thing as many times as I have this past year and a half), throws her pants and underwear at me but not before she tucks the underwear into the folds of the pants as EVERY woman does when she goes to the GYN (why is that???), and sits on the table, excited as ever to see our tiny humans again. 

Sidebar: We opted out of our appointment last week because our Dr. was on vacation and rescheduled for this past Wednesday, only to find out that our Dr. was in his NYC office that day and we wouldn’t be seeing him anyway.  Fantastically enough, we got his assistant who allowed us to really spend some quality time watching our babies wiggling around. IT WAS AWESOME!!!

So Callie lays back, and no matter how “safe and sound” we know our babies are, there is still this little twinge of fear when they do the ultrasound and you’ve seen baby 1 and not baby 2.  You have no idea the wave of relief that comes when you see baby 2 and hear his/her heart beat (let’s say “his” in hopes that the God’s will hear me and grant me my one true wish!). I’ve been a good person for the better part of my adult life, paying it forward, lending a helping hand, and doing the best I can do.  A son to watch my NY Giants with would be the greatest blessing, but two healthy babies, regardless of gender, takes the cake.

Having my partner, our Foster daughter Mary, our kitty Gracie, our 3 birds (2 females), our rabbit, and myself, it’s fair to say that our house might as well be called Estrogenfest!  Imagine we have 2 girls?!?! I will probably make front page on the Daily News with the headline, “New Mama throws self from Tappan Zee Bridge because she did not have a son!”.  Still, we look at the monitor and see what’s going on.  I’m happy to say that there are still 2 little ones in there, cute as ever.  They actually have little bodies, and aren’t just bean-looking anymore.  There are heads, and noticeable little paddles for hands and feet, and the best part, no tail! We no longer have tadpoles but tiny humans, big heads and all! What a difference a week makes. But I see something in the image.  Something LONG and smack in the middle where genitalia should be.  I know it’s too soon to tell, but in my head I’m like, “OH, HELL YEAH! My son is PACKING!”. I know damn well it’s the cord! And then the Dr. confirms what I already knew , “And that’s just the cord, not the penis.” DEFLATED! I start cracking up, mainly because I was JUST thinking that, but also to hide that weird farty sound that balloons make when you let that last little bit of air out of them.  I guess the personalized infant NY Giants Jersey I have in my cart on the NFL store website to match mine will have to wait a few more weeks…hopefully…twins1

My Babies are what size?

     I have come to find that Google can be your best friend or your worst enemy.  I have a headache that hasn’t subsided for 3 days.  Google tells me it could be cancer (GASP!) or I haven’t slept well enough.  If I have incessant dry mouth, thanks to Google, it’s Sjogren’s, HIV, dehydration, or side effects of THC.  Needless to say, it has been a great resource for finding information on all things “baby”.  The pro’s and con’s of disposable vs. cloth diapers, which bottles are the best, best pediatrician in my state and county, breastfeeding advice, and pretty much anything else you can think of, but my favorite so far has been knowing approximately what size my little ones are. 

     Every week since conception they are compared to a different fruit. Weeks 3&4 they were poppy seeds, week 5 we had apple seeds, week 6 (my all time favorite veggie) sweet peas, week 7 blueberries, and week 8 we had little raspberries.  But there was something about this fetal growth chart that bothered me.  Foods, especially fruit, can vary in size.  If you go to Stop and Shop, their strawberries and lemons are so small! Go ahead and go to BJ’s and their strawberries look like oranges in disguise! It was making me nuts, so i scoured the net a little more, and YESSSSS!!! I found it!!!!!! “Tarzan’s Ultimate Guide to Baby Sizes Week-by-Week For Soon To Be Fathers”. That’s what I’m talking about! I may not be a father, but I’m the next best thing, and this list doesn’t really leave much open for interpretation.  If my baby is the size of a quarter at 8 weeks, that really isn’t going to change much, is it? Or the head of a hammer (unless you bought you’re hammer at Ikea, which is abnormally small), or the size of a baseball, or a marble.  I found this to be über exciting! Callie has a reference point (she’s a foodie) and I have a reference point (hand-on ex construction worker, avid hiker, outdoorsy person that I am). Couldn’t be more perfect.  My week 9 babies (today actually) are the size of marbles, which I might be losing soon if Callie keeps moving around so much in bed at night! But for now, my little marbles are doing what they do, eating, resting, and growing all cozy and warm in mommy’s belly.