Navigating the Mixed Emotions of Being a Non-Biological Parent

The hardest part of being a non-biological, same-sex parent has been having to “come out” as one.

It started when my older son, now in fifth grade, asked about sex. After my wife and I had “the talk” with him, we high-fived—we thought we’d aced it. But a few days later, he came back with a follow-up question: “So, if you’re both women, how did you have my brother and me?”

An A-plus for critical thinking, but it was a total “record scratch” moment.

In the flurry of choosing a donor and undergoing multiple intrauterine insemination (IUI) treatments, my wife and I anticipated that question might come up at some distant point on the horizon. But now it was time to pay the piper, who was standing in front of me with intense curiosity and remnants of chocolate milk all over his face.

I answered him honestly, without missing a beat: “We used a donor. A man who wanted to help other people have families donated his sperm.”

It didn’t take my son long to piece together the rest of the story. “So, that means you’re not my real mom.”

The statement kicked off a turbulent mix of fear, jealousy, heartbreak and frustration in me. My name was on my kids’ birth certificates. I’d changed diapers, sat up all night monitoring fevers, applied bandages to scraped knees, helped with homework and splashed in the ocean with them. But none of that eased the worry that they might now think of me differently or wouldn’t feel close to me. I wondered if I completely broke their trust by not telling them sooner, or by telling them at all.

I also began to feel “othered” in our little family of four. I even looked like the odd woman out. My wife and our boys share an undeniable genetic connection, evident by the red hair, freckles and fair skin they share—a sharp contrast to my dark features. And when I was alone with the boys, I was self-conscious, thinking other moms assumed I was a nanny.

Very few parents-to-be leave the sperm or egg bank with a roadmap explaining how to have conversations with their kids about how they were conceived. In the past, parents who used these services were advised against telling their kids their conception story. This confusion and lack of clarity is what caused my own uneasiness in my role as the non-bio parent.

Emma Tasini, LMFT, a trauma therapist in Pasadena, California, who specializes in working with LGBTQ+ and donor-conceived families and was herself donor-conceived, points out that these days, children with non-bio parents want to know about their origins and understand where they come from—and that this can be a positive experience.

“Together with their parents, they get to decide what family means. It’s not just something that’s indebted to them because they have the same bloodline. It’s truly about love and the deep desire to create a family.”

Laura Jones, LPC, owner of Wild Feather Counseling in the Washington, DC, area, who specializes in working with the LGBTQ+ and BIPOC communities, recommends taking a moment to reflect on your hopes, fears and feelings are as the non-bio parent.

It’s also important to acknowledge your own feelings around the role—whether it’s fear of rejection, insecurity or feeling “less than,” advises Kate Hellen, MA, LMFT, a therapist specializing in working with queer-identifying people based in Pasadena, California. And if you think you’re in need of some therapy or group support, don’t hesitate to seek it out.

Hellen adds that exploring your own feelings before tending to your kids’ needs and questions can be a game-changer. “Most people don’t want to dive headfirst into emotional discomfort,” she says. One approach she suggests is to “frontload the discomfort” and get support before the conversation even happens. That’ll help you feel more regulated when you talk to your kids, because if you show up with fear or insecurity, you’re giving the message that something about your situation is bad or shameful.

It’s also important that you and the biological parent are a united front about things, and that you feel supported. Tasini suggests writing a “mission statement” about your family.

As your child’s curiosity increases, it’s also important to answer questions together and to be consistent in the messages you’re delivering, says Hellen.

Finally, it’s important for the bio-parent to acknowledge the feelings of the non-bio parent and for communication to be ongoing, says Jones. “As the bio-parent, [they] may not see it through the same lens. But [they shouldn’t] dismiss it. Lean into how you can be a support.”

My wife has been incredibly supportive, encouraging me to focus less on the influence of nature and more on the role that nurture plays in my relationship with our kids.

With all of that in mind, understanding your genetic makeup is important—from a health perspective and, for many people, from an identity perspective.

“As the non-bio parent, there has to be some acceptance of that,” adds Jones. “If you talk to people who don’t know all their genetics, you’ll inherently find that for many of them, it feels like some part of their identity is missing.”

It’s been several months since we told our older son his donor story, and we know we’ll have to repeat it for our younger son, incorporating lessons learned from the first go-round. We also know these are likely the first conversations we will have about their conception, their donor and our connection as a family.

For now, not much has changed about my relationship with my kids. I still embarrass them in front of their friends. They still want tickles at bedtime. They still come to me when they don’t like the answer my wife has given them.

My older son is sensitive and worries about what other people think of his long hair or painted nails. As someone who doesn’t like to conform, I’m teaching him what it means to love and accept himself for who he is. My younger son, who insists he inherited his hazel eyes from me, shares my wry sense of humor, a stubborn, rebellious streak and a blossoming love of poetry.

But most importantly, they still call me “Mom”—and that’s an identity no amount of DNA can alter.

How We Developed This Article

It can be tough to navigate your emotions as the non-biological parent. To learn the best way to handle these feelings, we spoke with two licensed marriage and family therapists and a licensed professional counselor, all of whom have considerable experience working with LGBTQ+ families. The author also dove deep into her own experience as a non-biological parent.

After editing, this article was vetted through fact-check. Learn more about how we ensure the accuracy of our content through our editorial and medical review process.

About the author: Nicole Baker-Mezlo is a writer and a mom to two boys together with her wife. While she’s had complicated feelings around being the non-biological parent in her family, building deep relationships with her sons has helped her come to peace with the emotions.