I didn’t give birth to my boys, but I am definitely their mom

I was walking in Target the other day talking to my sons, who are two and three, about getting Mama a birthday card. “Which one should we get for Mama?” I asked. They wanted the $7 cat one that sang “I’m too sexy for my hair,” of course. As we laughed about the different cards, a woman walked by and patted my arm. “They are so lucky to have you.” I smiled and thought, how nice. Only a few aisles later did I realize she may have thought I was their nanny, not their mom…

I look nothing like my kids. They are blond-haired and blue-eyed—they have the most perfect blue eyes that they got from my wife, who was the one who carried our children. I am Colombian, and my 5-foot-nothing stature is more Oompa Loompa than Barbie.

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As a girl, young woman, and even early into adulthood I never had the urge to have children. When I was in first or second grade teachers would ask, “What do you want to be when you grow up?” and a bunch of girls would answer, “a mommy.” I answered, “a banker.”

Times have changed and when I grew up I no longer wanted to be a banker and I surprised myself in the fact that I did want kids. And I am so happy I married someone who not only wanted kids too but who also wanted to be the one to carry them.

Our kids have her last name. She did the work for those nine-plus months—she deserves that. And honestly, it’s not important to me that they don’t have my last name, and I don’t feel any less connected to them because I didn’t carry them in my womb. What counts is that we are a family.

I was adopted at two months old. I look like my Italian mom and absolutely nothing like my English dad. From a young age, I always knew I wasn’t biologically their child, but in every single other way, I still am their kid. (They joke that their offspring wouldn’t be as cute or as athletic, and I joke back but they’d probably be smarter and taller.)

Our never-ending love, our respect, our gifts of compassion, and the fact that we’re always there for each other—these are the treasures that make us a family. Not anything biological. So that has taught me a lot about how to raise my kids with the all of those same treasures that also include politeness, honesty, the gift of laughter, and always doing your best.

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I didn’t give birth to my boys, but I am there to calm them in the middle of the night because of an accident, nosebleed, or scary dream.

I didn’t give birth to my boys, but the diaper changes are real. (Trust me.)

I didn’t give birth to my boys, but I read to them, dance with them, and laugh with them—every day.

I didn’t give birth to my boys, but somehow, one of my boys has a matching birthmark in the same place as I do and our little inside joke is that we high-five them together.

I didn’t give birth to my boys, but both of them smile the same way I do…total full teeth smile.

I didn’t give birth to my boys, but they call me “Mom,” and I’ve never loved two human beings more.

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But being one of two moms definitely makes for some interesting and funny stories. We got rid of our crib a few months ago and when someone found out she asked, “But what if there’s—ya know—an accident?” I told her that one of the many joys of being a lesbian is that there will not be any “accidents” in our future.

Or the time right after my wife had our first baby when I was in the hospital bed with our son while my wife went to a new parent class. (I told her we should do one before the baby actually came, but a lesson I’ve learned is that one should definitely choose their battles wisely with their pregnant wife.) I was in the bed, holding my son and the nurse came in and said, “Time to get your vitals” and so, I had some explaining to do.

Or the time we went to do our taxes. The woman said, “Okay, which one of you wants to go first?” My wife replied, “We are married. We’d like to do it all together.” The woman looked at us for a few seconds and said, “Oh, I’ve never done this before.” I looked at her and said, “You’ve never done a married couple’s taxes before?” She shrugged and said, “Not like this.”

So how does all of this make me feel? It makes me feel human. Sometimes people judge, sometimes people do not take enough time to ask questions, sometimes people assume. These stories make me understand that I am blessed, confident, and my biggest struggle with my kids—besides too long of a bedtime routine right now—is that I sometimes have to explain a little more. I know this is teaching them to do the opposite of what is sometimes done to us—to take time to ask questions, be patient, be curious and be polite.

So sure, having two moms does make for some funny stories at times, but it also provides us the opportunity to raise our kids well and show society that we, as women, are capable. Our family is two moms—a mom and a mama—and our two precious boys who make up this team. We smother our kids with all the snuggles in the world, and they will forever be mama’s boys, which we could not be happier about.

The funny stories keep us laughing, but they also do something much more serious, much more important. They remind us that gay people, not too long ago, did not have the luxury of being on a child’s birth certificate together, or filing taxes jointly. They remind me to be humble, unassuming and, most of all, grateful. I am grateful that my friends and family have all accepted us as we are, a loving couple who wants to be happy and raise kind, healthy boys.

In the future—later today or in a few years—I am hopeful that more and more people will see us as a family. There are so many different types of families out there, and we all deserve to be validated and seen. We are so fortunate that so many people already do recognize us as a family and hopefully, it will get easier and easier over time and the stories will become less and less frequent.

Maybe, just maybe, Target lady knew I was their mom, and not their nanny. Maybe she saw the love and pride in my eyes, the casual banter in the bright red cart, and the fact that I am confident in who I am to my boys—their mom.

After all, we are a family bonded by love and all the other treasures that have been passed down from our parents. Because relationships are not just blood…it’s all of the other stuff that makes us a family.

A version of this post was published November 21, 2018. It has been updated.

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