Loved All The Same

Much discussed, little understood and not often heard from, they are the children of two-mommy or two-daddy families. While politicians debate whether their parents should marry and psychologists proffer conflicting studies about how the children may or may not differ from those raised in "traditional" families, the kids are doing what kids do best: Growing up.

And, it seems, growing in number. In 2000, 162,000 children lived with same-sex parents, according to the U.S. Census. Gay and lesbian parenting groups estimate the number now at somewhere between 4 and 14 million. Many of the children have added a mother or father into their lives after a parent came out; others have been adopted by same-sex couples; and an increasing number of children are created by same-sex partners who plan from conception to parent together.

Let pundits pontificate on their talk shows. We'll consult the real experts. Who better to tell you about their lives and perspectives than the kids themselves?

Here are the stories of four young adults, in their own words, distilled from recent conversations with Pacific Northwest magazine writer Paula Bock.

Kellen Kaiser grew up in the San Francisco Bay Area, among the first "chosen children" of lesbian partners. In Kaiser's case, the agreement was among three mommies: her birth mother, Nina Kaiser; Nina's best friend, Helen Wagner; and Nina's lover, Margery Ferrar. Nina and Margery split up when Kaiser was 6 months old; Margery retained a strong parental role. When Kaiser was 5, Nina married Kyree Klimist, who later (with sperm from a donor) gave birth to Kaiser's brother. Kaiser, now 25, considers all four women "Mom." She has a tumultuous relationship with her father.

IN MY MOTHER'S generation, if you were a lesbian, you pretty much had to give up the idea of child-rearing. My mother was one of the first to go for it.

I don't know how the plan was hatched. I do know about my conception. Mom was to go to Europe for the summer and come back pregnant. My mom was really hot, so there wasn't any question she'd do it.

My mother met my father outside the Louvre. They were two lonely Americans in Paris. They hung out a couple days. They partied. He wanted to sleep with her. She says, "I'm a lesbian." He says, "It's cool." From my father's perspective, he thought he had overcome her sexual preference, he was the exception. Which is, like, so male!

It takes so much for (gay men and lesbians) to have kids that there's a lot more thinking, examining what it means to be a parent, a family. My mom kept daily journals about what I was feeling and interested in until I was 8. She has every card I've ever received. She has all my baby clothes. Every book I ever read. I am well-loved. There are family stories of Margery walking me back and forth saying Zen koan, Helen doing the Charleston, Nina making organic baby food by hand.

My mom always said: Kudos to all single mothers out there because we had four people and all four of us were exhausted!

Generally, I would just call, "Mom!" and whoever came running. Parent-teacher conferences? All four. There's a way of presenting to children that everybody's different, that there is no normative model. Friends lived with grandparents. Friends had divorced parents. I knew most people had a mom and dad; that was just one of many variations.

The family tree is brutal. My (kindergarten) teacher would give assignments, draw your family tree, and my family tree looked upended. She was confused: "Who is this child?" That's when my parents started the Lesbian and Gay Parents Association.

I went to a bilingual school where most of the kids were Latino. I remember really wanting one of those awesome dresses Catholic girls get . . . lots of crinoline, lots of lace. I did get my big dress for my parents' wedding when I was 5. It was white tulle with puff sleeves and little blue bows. My parents wore tan suede pants and little silk shirts with matching orchids. It was a Jewish ceremony at a gay synagogue.

I was thrilled. My mother had dated some women when I was a child, and I saw this as a sign of stability. Nina and Kyree aren't together anymore, but they parent together and acknowledge a lifelong love for each other, which is more than I can say for most divorced people.

Having four mothers is a mixed blessing. If you don't get what you want from one you just go to the other. On a cash-flow basis, it's great. In terms of attention, it's great.

Really, it's only bad for my boyfriend. Four mothers-in-law! Big shoes to fill because I'm used to unconditional love all the time.

I could never date someone for whom I seem a novelty. My boyfriend (Ilan Fuss) hung out with lesbians. I can take him to a leather bar. He's remarkably homophobia free for someone who's served in the (Israeli) Special Forces. We went to Torah study together; I used to try to distract him.

When I was a teenager, I was a little wild. There was a study they did of children of lesbians. It says they're promiscuous for a certain amount of time and then go onto serial monogamy. I'm like, really? And how does that make them different from anyone else?

My perception of masculinity has been largely shaped by mass culture. I definitely go for macho men. When we got together, my boyfriend had a crew cut, he smoked cigarettes. He's a man's man.

My big plan is to gather all my friends, live on the ranch, a commune model, build little cabins for everybody.

I have a lot of elder care to deal with at some point. I'm actually thinking of opening a lesbian retirement home because I have four lesbians to start with, and if you add all the ex-girlfriends, you have business forever!

But yeah, I'll get married, too. I'm planning to write a book: "How to Plan a Gay Kosher Wedding for 250." Élan's whole (special forces) unit, Orthodox Jews, leather men, Israelis, lots of aging Berkeley hippies. I'm all about community.

At 24, Hank Cattell has a black belt in tae kwan do and is studying public health at Portland State University. He grew up in West Seattle before moving at age 12 to Portland, where his mother, Mary Schutten, and her partner, Cathryn Cushing, merged families, an arrangement Cattell calls "alternative-lifestyle Brady Bunch."

THE STRESS had nothing to do with having two moms. It was living with two other children my age. I had been an only child. Maybe I was a little spoiled. We fought a lot over the usual stupid things: television, food, whatever. We went to family counseling, which was really helpful.

At school, people would say, "They're your sisters?" I would be like, "Yeah, well, they're my mom's lesbian lover's children." I enjoyed the shock value. Once they figure out I am serious, they're curious as to how I was born, if I'm a test-tube baby or something.

My mom was married to my dad. They got divorced (when I was 2), and my mom is a lesbian. Mom had a few different relationships with various women who I still really like. It's like I have lots of aunts. If there wasn't a stigma attached to it, it never would have been an issue for me at all.

I had a very normal childhood. My mom raised me (to believe) some people are gay, some are straight, it doesn't really matter. It took awhile to realize there are people who don't like homosexuals.

Middle school was extremely unpleasant. My mom decided to send me to a private Lutheran school. In seventh grade, one of my teachers would talk about homosexuality and how it's a sin. I was Methodist at the time; my mom and I would go to church every Sunday. I really believed, then. I couldn't imagine my mom going to hell. That really hurt me. It seemed utterly ridiculous that God would create someone in such a way and then punish them for being just who they are.

I started arguing with the teacher and the other students. I didn't actually tell them my mom was gay. The other kids would ask me if I was gay. I'd say I know people who are gay and they're really good people. I told my mom, and she took me out immediately. I went to Meany Middle School, which was very comfortable, very cool.

My dad is not very involved. I'd see him once or twice a year. I haven't seen him since I graduated from high school, but we talk on the phone. A lack of connection more than any kind of dislike. My mom had five brothers, so I have lots of uncles, and I had a "Big Brother" who I saw every week for years. It is good to have role models, but I don't think that has to mean a biological father or stepfather. I do notice a difference between myself and other guys. For one thing, I've always been more comfortable around women than other guys are. For a long time, I didn't have many guy friends. Whenever guys would joke about wanting to have sex with a woman or make crude remarks, that always made me uncomfortable. I think guys bond a lot with that kind of stuff. I never really liked sports. That doesn't have anything to do with my mom. My mom loves sports. Now, it's not difficult to have male friends because there's a much wider array of interests.

I was really excited when gay marriage temporarily became legal here. My mom and Cathryn were married by a judge in the courthouse downtown. For me, marriage is society acknowledging your union, and I think that's beautiful even if you're not religious. I don't understand people that have such animosity toward homosexuals. If they knew my mom and Cathryn, they could easily change their mind. If your parents are gay, it's a blessing because you'll have more freedom to explore your own sexuality. I never felt nervous about telling my mom who I was attracted to. She always said whoever you choose to be with, I'll support that — just as long as they're good enough for you!

I remember as a kid, being attracted to both boys and girls. For the most part, I wanted to be nothing but straight, just because it's easier. I accepted I was bisexual when I was 16. It was actually my first long-term relationship with a girl, and she never had any problem with it; she's bisexual, too. Since then, I've had some terrible experiences when I've told friends because they think I'm gay and I don't know it.

My mom is always ready and willing with lots of advice and support, though sometimes talking about issues of sex with my mom makes me uncomfortable. Not because she's weird about it — just because she's my mom!

Katie Dahl-Lomatewama includes the surnames of both her mother, Inez Lomatewama, and her mother's ex-partner, Lisa Dahl, in her signature. Dahl taught Katie to cook and was there during hard times. At 19, Katie dreams of becoming a chef and owning her own restaurant. She's taken courses at the Culinary Institute of America in New York.

WHEN I WAS about 4 or 5, my dad died. About a year later my mom met her partner, Lisa. Even though they broke up about six years ago, I still consider Lisa my mom.

(As a kid) it was confusing because there was a whole bunch of court stuff going on. My grandparents kidnapped my brother and took him on the Hopi reservation. My mom couldn't get him back because she's not Hopi; my dad was. They were trying to kidnap me and my sister, so we had to flee (from Southern California to Seattle).

After all the court stuff, my mom got to keep me and my sister. It was good. My parents weren't rich, but they could think of fun things for us to do. One year, we went to all the festivals in Seattle. When the ferries were cheap, on nice summer days, we'd pack up some food and sit on the deck in the sun and have a picnic. We were really into card games. I enjoyed cooking with Lisa. I remember the first time she let me make spaghetti and put in whatever I wanted.

We'd send my grandparents family pictures of the four of us on the ferries and they'd cut Lisa out.

Lisa has really short hair, I guess you'd say she's kind of butchy. Sometimes I'd be embarrassed to go into bathrooms with her; people would look at her funny (thinking she was a guy), but now we just kind of laugh. What else can you do?

Mostly what I miss was not having a whole family. I'd hear people say, "I'm going to visit my grandparents or my uncle." After a while, we did see my grandparents again, but they'd always get into how bad Lisa is or how I act like my mom . . . so it wasn't that enjoyable.

I got into arguments at school, but it wasn't that big of a deal. Other kids would say (about Lisa and my mom), "Oh, that's gross. That's not right." They'd question my identity, but I never did. If I was a lesbian, I wouldn't have trouble admitting it because my family was always really open about that.

I didn't go to middle school. My parents didn't like Issaquah schools because they thought they were homophobic. They said they were going to home school us, but that didn't really happen. It was more like a huge summer for two years. Then I went to NOVA (alternative high school in Seattle). It was very nice, and so many teachers were open. I was way behind. They didn't think I was going to be able to catch up. I had to work really hard, but I did graduate.

When my parents broke up, I was really scared we wouldn't be family anymore — after all we worked for! My mom used to drink, and it got really bad, and sometimes she'd disappear and not call. But Lisa would be there. There wasn't a time when Lisa wasn't there for us. My mom casually drinks now, but it's under control. She and Lisa are best friends and they talk every day . . . about their girlfriend problems!

A good parent is someone who basically will always love you and help you out whenever you need them. That's Lisa. She's my mom.

Will Chase grew up in a small town in conservative New Hampshire, so he was worried what other kids would think when a woman moved in with his mom, shortly after his parents divorced. Now 30, Chase thinks the experience gave him a broad world view and is why he gravitates to places where people are tolerant. Three years ago, Chase moved to Seattle where he's a spin instructor and works for Holland America.

In a small town, it wasn't easy being different. Initially, I guess I was ashamed. It turns out nobody batted an eye because I went to a really small, ultra-progressive Waldorf School. Nobody really cared. I was a pretty well-liked kid, really involved in sports and theater and busy.

For the first 10 years of my life, I lived in a traditional family, then I lived with two women, then, when I was 16 or 17 my dad decided it was time for me to come out from under my mother's skirt. That's his words. Which gives the impression he was this gruff logger, which he is, a professional carpenter by trade. But he's actually a gentle man. A good man. . . . He was seeing a woman who had two daughters. So we had this normal family dynamic going on, which was nice.

But that's the thing. There really wasn't a difference between the families. All the values, the culture, the traditions that are passed along in families — it's all exactly the same. If anything, they're probably a little more tolerant in single-sex households. It's probably easier to understand each other because, y'know what? You've been there. That leads to good child-rearing.

When you have a man and a woman, you have yin-yang. There's a certain amount of tension that winds up in hard feelings.

My mom represented stability for me. She was the rock. She believed in me when I thought I was going to become a professional mountain biker, and she supported me monetarily and emotionally. I know I can always count on her. I hate to say it, but I'm attracted to women who look like my mother. I have an appreciation for her beauty: short and a little curvy, and an enthusiastic outlook on life.

My dad was the guy I could have fun with. We'd hang on the weekend. Go fishing. Watch baseball. He'd follow my passion of the moment.

Maryanne (my mother's partner) was a wonderfully philosophical woman. She was everything my dad wasn't. She was always around and always available. She was the one I'd go to whenever Mom said no because she'd always say yes. (Not initially. I'd have to wear her down a bit.)

Now, there are lots of kids with single-sex parents. Back then, I was the only kid I knew. But it's funny, my mom's mom was the first woman in her town to actually leave her husband for another woman. My grandfather was ex-military and a very public figure. So when he found out that his wife was having an affair with this woman, he decided to sue her for alienation of affection. I can't believe you can sue someone for that, but apparently you can. So this came out in the paper, big headlines, early '70s. Apparently my mom went to my grandfather and told him if you don't drop the lawsuit, I'll never talk to you again. So he dropped it.

My idea of family? White house, white picket fence, two cats in the yard, 2.5 children. Actually, I have no assumptions or predictions. I hope to be with a person who loves me and supports me, and I love and support them. If we have children someday, that's just icing on the cake.

Paula Bock is a Pacific Northwest magazine staff writer. Steve Ringman is a Seattle Times staff photographer.