Just because my mom and I aren't related, doesn't mean we don't love and care for each other as if we were. I have gay parents. And you know what? I'm darn proud of it. It's not everyone who can say they have two moms. I love them both and we do really fun stuff together, and I wouldn't trade them for any dad in the world. Nevertheless, sometimes I wonder what it's like to have a dad. I don't think I'm missing out or anything, but occasionally I can't help imagine what life would be like with a father.
I have a donor, which is extremely different. A donor is a man who donates his semen to a couple who can't have kids, or to a lesbian family. When I think about him I get very curious about who he is. He could be any man of my race in the world. That thought makes me very uncomfortable.
I remember. I was 5. I was looking at my reflection, in the mirror. My mom Melissa was standing beside me, brushing her hair. I asked her why I didn't look like my other mom, Leigh. She sighed, like she was dreading this moment, and gave me a hug. There was a long silence. Then finally, she said, "Abby you don't look like mama Leigh because you are not related to her."
"Why not?" I asked.
She told me that I had a donor and I had his genes instead of mama Leigh's. I asked her if I would ever meet my dad. She looked at me and firmly said, "Abby your donor is not your dad. A donor is a very different thing. You just share his genes. It's not like you have to be devoted to him in any way."