A part of me wants to explain how children are made, but then I realize that, in doing so, I may be perceived as an asshole, or even arrogant. So, instead, I am going to make this answer extremely long, because I want to be able to refer someone, who may decide to ask this question in the future, to this answer.
Okay, all of my life I have not been “fully” gay, if anyone ever could be. I like to think that there is at least one person in the opposite sex that a gay man, or lesbian woman, finds attractive. This is not to say that I believe that, if given the chance, said individual would have sex with them, because I don’t believe that’s the case. I just believe that there’s one person from the opposing gender that a homosexual person may find aesthetically pleasing, if only a little.
So, to answer your question.
When I was eighteen, I was dating a woman, whom I found beautiful in every aspect of the word—she was smart, funny, beautiful both on the inside and the outside, and she had one of the kindest hearts I had ever seen. We were not in love, I don’t think, but we did have a physical relationship, which led her to become pregnant.
Long story short; About a month into the pregnancy, she told me that she had miscarried, which devastated me. (I have always wanted to be a father, either biologically or by adoption; I was excited that it was going to be the aforementioned option, instead of the latter.) She and I went our separate ways; to which mine led me to New York. While there, I realized that I would be much happier with a man, and decided that, instead of labeling myself as “confused,” or “bisexual,” I would cut out the middle man and just call myself gay - because I felt more attracted to men, both physically and emotionally, than women. That is when I met my husband, Max, and we fell in love.
Several months later, in April of 2009, I got a call from the mother of my daughter. She said she had something to tell me, and that she wanted to see me. Deep down, I knew that she had lied about having a miscarriage, I just had no solid evidence. We met, I saw my daughter, and soon the DNA tests were performed to insure that she was, indeed, my child; spoiler alert—she was.
That is the story on how I am both gay, and a father. And to answer any of your - or anyone else’s, for that matter - questions:
No, I am not ashamed that I am raising my daughter in a homosexual household.
No, I do not love my daughter differently; nor would I, had I been straight, or even bisexual.
Yes, she calls both my husband and I several variations of “daddy.”
No, I am not embarrassed by my family, or the fact that my husband and I are gay males raising a child together.
Yes, I realize that there is a social stigma for individuals raising children in “homosexual situations.”
No, I do not think that my daughter would be better off being raised in a household in which there is both a mother and a father.
If you have any more questions, I would be more than happy to answer them—unless they are blatantly ignorant. In that case, you won’t get an answer from me.