As we start to shift the narrative about raw honesty online about motherhood, I wish that queer moms opened up more about how hard it is to create their inner circle. 

As my community transforms, I’ve developed a curiosity on how to transmute isolation into connection.

“Every day since my father died has been at least a little fucked up. There is no such thing as a non-fucked up day when you are a Daddy’s girl without a father.”

It’s a boy, until and unless he tells us otherwise, I thought. It’s a boy who will be raised without gender roles. It’s a boy who will be defined by their heart and mind, not by the organs that happen to be between their legs. It’s a boy who will be loved wholly, deeply, and completely by the two women who created him.