When I was 8, my mother sat me down on her four-poster bed and told me she is gay. I was the oldest of two so I felt obligated to handle this with poise and maturity.
"So, does this mean I'll have two moms?" I asked, trying to act as if I fully understood what she had just told me.
"Yes, darling, one day you might have two moms." She spoke with a sympathetic smile, probably realizing that I had no comprehension of how this would affect me for the years that lay ahead. My parents had separated just a few months before.
The first woman Mom brought home was Nancy, who wore a leather jacket and rode a motorcycle. I hated Nancy, for no reason other than the bad feeling I got when I was around her, and the even worse feeling I got when she was around my mother. Thankfully, Mom didn't let her stick around long. I found out recently that Nancy was unfaithful to her.
My mother was single for a few months before she started dating Lisa, a petite, punctual woman who worked with autistic children. The first time I met Lisa she wore a T-shirt tucked into a flowered skort. She and my mother took me and my younger brother to Chuck E. Cheese's, so we couldn't help but like her.
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Lisa and my mom hit it off, and within months she moved into our home. Although she worked with children in her professional life, Lisa was not prepared to become stepmother to a 10-year-old and an eight-year-old. No textbook can fully prepare someone to be an instant parent. She tried to set new rules that didn't go over well, such as telling my brother and I we could watch only one hour of television a day.
When Kailee, a friend from school, came over, I introduced Lisa as "my mom's friend." For years I introduced her this way. As Kailee and I became closer, she began asking questions. Does Lisa live here? Are you related? Is she a lesbian? I figured it would be more difficult to maintain the lie so I revealed the truth. To my relief Kailee was unfazed, as were all my friends who ever got close enough to know.
Their understanding, however, did nothing to diminish the shame I harboured. It grew inside me, nurtured by the discrimination I witnessed on a daily basis. The disparaging comments about gays that littered the schoolyard made me feel nothing short of mortified. I cringed at the sight of any public display of affection between my mother and Lisa.
By the time I hit my teen years I was a self-pitying, emotional, angry mass of negativity. Rather than feeling empathy toward my mother and her partner, I felt resentment. Lisa, who had been part of our family for years, felt the brunt of my anger and we fought constantly. The house echoed with the sounds of slamming doors and shouts of, "You're not my mother!"
Finally, in Grade 10, my hormones levelled out and my anger began to subside. I had settled into my new school and made a few close friends who all knew about my family. Then Mom and Lisa told me they had decided to have a baby. Lisa would bear the child and my mother would give it her last name. I was shocked at first, but once that faded I became excited. A year later my baby brother Daniel was born.
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Daniel's birth sparked controversy where we never expected it - from within our extended family. My uncle sent a hateful e-mail to all my mother's and Lisa's friends and family. I was enraged. Although I wrote a response, I never sent it. I decided that doing so would only perpetuate the hate. Instead, I loved Daniel more.
Grade 12 brought to the surface feelings I thought I had overcome. Graduation was close and with that came committee meetings and fundraisers, banquets and events. To avoid gossip and questions, I asked Mom and Lisa that only one of them be involved in the pre-graduation preparations. Lisa was seriously hurt by this request, and I think my insensitivity discouraged both of them from participating. I cared too much about what others thought, and because of that I missed the chance to share this exciting time with Mom and Lisa. I was still ashamed of my family and I was finally beginning to see how this was affecting them.
It wasn't until I moved out on my own two years later, gaining both independence and perspective, that I began to see my mother and Lisa as people rather than just parents.
I am 22 now and Lisa is no longer "my mom's friend." She is my stepmother and my parent. I am thankful for the experiences in my life that have given me the opportunity to be more open-minded. My mother has shown me what true courage is by following her heart. Though she has faced discrimination from strangers and even family members, she has instilled upon me the importance of being honest with yourself.
My mother and Lisa have been together 13 years now, and Daniel just celebrated his seventh birthday. When I call home and ask to speak with Mom, Dan asks, "Which one?" I can't help but laugh.
Amy Wood lives in Port Coquitlam, B.C.
Illustration by Tara Hardy.