A few weeks ago something happened that has forever changed the way I view my children, my role as mother and my life as a lesbian. I was cleaning up after breakfast and had just kissed my wife and our oldest daughter good-bye as the latter left for school and the former for work when my one-year-old daughter, Maya, came to me and pulled on my pant leg. I glanced down at her big brown eyes and asked her in that high squeal that all parents think babies find appealing what it was she wanted. What happened next will forever remain rooted in my mind for as long as I continue to possess all of my faculties. Our conversation went as follows:
Raven: Hey baby, whatcha' want?
Maya: Well, I don't quite know. I suppose I just want to talk, find out a few things about myself that I haven't already.
Raven: Wha'? ... Oh my god!
Maya: Of course, I did have a few questions maybe you could help answer.
Raven: But how ...? What the ... . Am I dreaming?
Maya: No. I don't think so.
Raven: I think I need to sit down.
Maya: Great idea. I actually like it when I'm at eye-level with everyone.
Raven: This is so weird.
Maya: Tell me about it. FINALLY, someone to understand me.
Raven: This is not happening. Wait, so does this mean you really understand everything your other mom and I say?
Maya: Not right away. But some things I do keep with me. Like the times my other mommy yells at the big guys in tight pants who pile up on each other in the big box. She got really happy the first time I yelled along with her.
Raven: Oh my god, I remember that. We thought that was so cute.
Maya: I wasn't trying to be cute. I was trying to be like her.
Raven: Wow. I guess we never thought of it that way.
Maya: Mom, why am I here?
Raven: Well, because when your mom and I met, we fell in love and it was so plush and deep that we felt guilty keeping it all to ourselves. So we decided that we needed to make another little person to share it with.
Maya: Interesting. What do you think I'll be when I grow up?
Raven: Well, I don't know honey. But I do know that you'll always be loved, always be surrounded by people who care and always have a home to come back to no matter where you go.
Maya: How come I don't have a daddy?
Raven: What?
Maya: When you turn on the big box with the people in it, almost always there is a mommy and a daddy. How come we don't have one? Is ours broken?
Raven: No, sweetie. The reason there is no daddy is because your mom and I both fell in love with each other, each of us women. We're what you call "lesbians." That means we're women who love women. That's why we live out here and not in the big box with the people in it. They're a little scared of lesbians in there.
Maya: Well that's dumb? I think it's cool that it's just us girls.
Raven: Me too.
Maya: Mom, am I a lesbian?
Raven: I don't know honey.
Maya: But I love you and my sister and my other mommy. Doesn't that make me a lesbian?
Raven: Not really. You love us in a different way. AND before you ask me what way it is you're supposed to love a woman in order to be considered a lesbian, just know that this will be something left to be discussed when you're a little bit older.
Maya: Alright, if you don't think I'm ready yet ... .
Raven: Not quite yet.
Maya: Mom? Will you always be here with me?
Raven: Absolutely. And so will your sister and mommy.
Maya: So you won't die?
Raven: Well, someday I guess. But hopefully it'll be when you're old enough to take care of yourself.
Maya: I hope you live forever.
Raven: Well, maybe not forever. But 80 or 90 is good.
Maya: And mom?
Raven: Yes baby?
Maya: What is it that you always tell me? Oh yeah, I love you ... .
Raven: Oh sweetie. I love you too.
Maya: Baba.
Raven: What?
Maya: Baba. Ba didida mmm.
And she has not spoken to me since. At least not like that. And of course when I told my wife about this incident she thought I had lost my mind. But since that day, every time my wife is watching football or there is some heterosexual couple on the television, Maya turns to me with those big brown eyes and gives me that knowing look. And I swell with joy at knowing that when we tell little Maya that we love her, she not only understands it but, in her own way, is saying it right back.