Non Sequitur: Marriage Equality

Jack and Mommy at Boston Pride 2012

Jack and Mommy at Boston Pride 2012

You should know that this blog is written by a lesbian, once married to a woman, now divorced, sharing custody of a son with her ex. And since this is my blog, I am going to use it to stand on my soap box today.

Last night between McD for dinner and rehearsal for a play that I am in next month, Jack and I were tossing around a football and I remembered the big marriage equality show down happening today and tomorrow. And I thought that if my marriage hadn’t been recognized then I wouldn’t have been able to see Jackson for the two weeks he was in the NICU after he was born at a little over 2 lbs. And when my ex and I divorced, I could have easily lost custody just because I didn’t give birth to him from my body. And only through the rigamarole of the second-parent adoption will Jackson be able to claim my social security if I die before he is 18.

Jackson is the child born of my heart, the little boy I always knew I would raise. I’ll be damned if DOMA or Prop 8 will tell me that, based on a technicality, Jackson is not my child. That I have no rights to him. And that he has no rights to me. I dare anyone to tell him that I am not his mommy. He may not curse you out like I would, but he is just as opinionated as I am and will stand up for himself. Of course, because he’s my son.

Marriage equality means parenting equality. Means my divorce and rights to equal custody and equal opportunity to raise a shared child are no different than when Mr and Mrs John and Jane Doe get divorced. Means if my child needs an operation at Children’s Hospital, I can visit him without hassle or having to bring my file folder of adoption papers as proof. Means Jackson has every right to have free and unobstructed access to both of his mothers.

Because Jackson has rights to me, I have to uphold those rights and uphold my end of it. That means teaching him to toss a football, ride a two-wheeler, pee standing up, read a book, tie his shoes, make his bed, climb a tree, say please and thank you, respect his elders, respect girls and women, and become a good man and a good person.

And a rock star. He’s got some great dance moves. Of course, cause he’s my son.



Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s