I became a mother twenty days after my twenty first birthday. In a calm, warm room in Huntingdon, England I labored for seven hours before bringing my sweet little girl into the world. She went straight to my chest, close to my heart where I would keep her forever. In the hours that followed, I sat holding her, both of us wrapped in soft blankets. I looked into her eye and thought of all the things she would need me to provide or teach her for the rest of her life.
I was fifteen years old the first time I had heard of someone “coming out”. I wish I had heard it discussed in a more positive light, but instead the news came from my father as he and my mother stood gossiping over the dining table one night. He was leaning with one foot perched on a wooden chair in front of him, his arms crossed and set across his elevated knee. My father is a very active conversationalist, he uses all the space around him to tell a story; this posture keeps him relaxed as well as ready to act out a scene at any moment.