I remember the day I told my mother I was gay. It was May 17, 2014. She always knew. I had boyfriends before. I was never comfortable. It grossed me out. Being with another woman what I want and dream of. It’s all I could see in my dreams. I imagined myself marrying a woman. When I told my mother her response was “So your gay now?” I looked at her. It stung me like a bee sting. Responded I’ve been gay always. To make sure that she knew. I walked out. I didn’t talk to her for a week. Agony, we talked on a daily basis. I thought she was turning her back on me. I was so hurt. I didn’t care what other people thought of my sexuality. I’m the same person I was yesterday. I’m still your child. When I finally talked to her a week later she acted like I hadn’t told her anything new. I was shocked. I thought I knew her better than I knew anyone else. She treated me the same way she always had. It made me feel stronger. I was still her oldest daughter. I was still her partner for extreme couponing. Like she still loved me even though I can’t give her grand children the natural way. I was so scared of her response that I warped my brain into thinking that she was against me. Like the people who think that I’m not living my life right without a man. She wasn’t. She’s going to love me no matter what. I’m her child.