Who is the True Mom?

self insemination kit

By: Jamie Anderson
Updated: Aug. 3, 2016
Originally Published: Sep. 15, 2010

“Who is her real mom?”
“They both are.”
“But who is her REAL mom who carried her in her tummy?”

Kids are naturally curious, and when a little girl learns that her sister grew in their mother’s belly, she wonders about the origins of my child. For children, the term “real” doesn’t imply a contrast to “fake”—that distinction belongs to adults. While I understand this innocent inquiry, it leaves me grappling with the need to protect our unique family dynamic.

I never imagined I wouldn’t become a mother. As a child, I cherished my dolls, playing the role of their mom. I would homeschool them in our basement, acting as their doctor. Annie, my favorite doll, arrived in a red dress, a birthday gift from the Home Shopping Network. The entire neighborhood eagerly awaited her UPS delivery, a rare sight in our suburban cul-de-sac before the age of Amazon Prime. She came carefully wrapped in plastic, surrounded by colorful packing peanuts, with “HAND MADE IN GERMANY” stamped on her cloth body. Her eyes closed when I tucked her into bed, and with patience, I learned to French braid her long blonde hair.

On a quiet morning, twelve days past insemination—our tenth attempt—I took a test, convinced I wasn’t pregnant. Our bodies had been uncooperative, and we were running out of resources to understand why. But to my surprise, the test showed positive. My heart raced as I dashed to our bedroom, where my partner, Linda, was still waking up. I hadn’t shared that I was testing again, fearing another disappointment. She squealed with joy when I showed her the result. It was finally happening; we were going to be parents.

Before meeting me, Linda hadn’t envisioned motherhood as a possibility. She believed that being gay meant sacrificing the dream of family—along with marriage and federal benefits. But thankfully, she was mistaken. We got married in 2004, just months after Massachusetts became the first state to legalize same-sex marriage. We celebrated our fifth anniversary on Cape Cod, cradling our daughter while shielding her from the midday sun.

“Who is the real mom?”

In those early days, I breastfed while Linda changed cloth diapers, and we took turns working from home to delay daycare. Our daughter’s first word was “book,” quickly followed by “Mama,” her affectionate term for Linda. Six months later, she dubbed me “Mommy.”

Now, our little family consists of Mommy, Mama, and our daughter, Zoe.

“Zoe, who is your real mom?”
“Both of you,” she replies, rolling her eyes dramatically. At five, she has already mastered the art of the eye roll. Bath time? She insists Mama does it better, claiming I get water in her eyes. But she loves riding in my car for the snacks and the notebook I share with her.

The days of ultrasounds and breastfeeding, which connected me to her as the gestational parent, are now behind us. Our bond is built on kindergarten drop-offs, brushing her hair, and preparing meals. I wipe her tears, share stories, and tuck her in each night. She understands her donor, her beginnings in my belly, and how desperately we wanted her. She knows how much both her Mamas love her.

So, who is the real mom? Each of us, every day. Our connection grows deeper with every moment.

For more insights on this journey, check out this detailed post on home insemination. If you’re looking for a reliable source on artificial insemination, visit Make a Mom. You can also explore WebMD for excellent resources on pregnancy and home insemination.

Summary

This heartfelt narrative explores the complexities of motherhood in a same-sex couple. It highlights the challenges and joys of parenting, emphasizing that love and connection define what it means to be a “real” mom. Both mothers play vital roles in their child’s life, creating a unique family dynamic filled with love and understanding.