I became a mother outside the box

Gloria has always marched to the beat of her own drum. As a chef, entrepreneur, and socially conscious content creator, she has spent years sharing a worldview rooted in sisterhood, freedom, and conviction. She identifies as a queer woman and mother, and has never sought to conform to norms that didn't align with who she is.

Becoming a mother was neither a sacrifice nor an expected turn of events. It was an experience that came to her at the intersection of a deep desire and an unexpected encounter—a "human love at first sight" with her son's father. Together, they chose to create their own family model, based on co-parenting, friendship, and mutual respect.

In this interview, Gloria shares how motherhood has transformed her perspective on herself, on love, and on family, without ever erasing her identity. A sincere account of becoming a mother in her own way—freely, consciously, and outside the norm.

The desire for a child, outside the script

" I've known for a very long time that I want to become a mother. It's a deep-seated desire, rooted in my teenage years. I grew up as one of four siblings, and I watched my mother—strong, surrounded by loved ones, a bit overwhelmed but deeply alive in that role. And simply told myself: I want that, too.

That desire stayed with me for a long time, even though it evolved. In my twenties, I went through a period of doubt. The world seemed harsh and uncertain to me. I began to wonder if it was responsible to bring a child into it. I looked around me and saw no role models who resembled me. I didn't see myself fitting into the dominant norms, and I didn't want to force myself to do so.

But at thirty, it came back to me. It felt obvious. With greater clarity, greater awareness. I was ready—not to slip into a role, but to become a mother in my own way.

I never idealized the traditional couple model. I grew up with a single mother who handled both roles without ever faltering. She was my living proof that you can be enough on your own. So no, I never told myself I needed a partner to start a family.

I wasn't afraid to take the plunge. I've been living independently since I was 17. It wasn't a leap into the unknown for me. It was more my friends and family who were worried. I realized then just how unsettling anything that strays from the norm can be. It's not that people want to stop you from making your own choices; it's that they're afraid. And sometimes, their fear tries to hold you back.

An encounter that shakes up the boxes

And then there was that encounter.

A man. It wasn't a love story in the traditional sense. It wasn't physical attraction. It was something stronger, deeper. A human connection at first sight. An obvious bond that transcends labels. A raw, unstaged connection in which I felt seen, respected, and aligned.

We shared the same values. The same views on the world, on education, on passing on knowledge. Very quickly, I felt that this project—the one of building a family—could exist with him. Not as a couple, but through a pact of strong friendship, trust, and chosen co-parenting.

Not everyone around me understood. Some were happy, others were bewildered. Some reactions were painful. I had to part ways with people I loved, but who couldn't support me in this choice. With time, I don't hold it against them. It wasn't malice, but fear. Because, yes, change is scary. And when that change pushes you to step outside the box, it can be intimidating.

My identity, however, wasn't erased. It grew. I never felt like I was betraying who I am. Instead, I felt like I was evolving. Becoming even more true to myself. Like a Pokémon, I changed forms, but I remain the same on the inside.

Becoming a mother without losing myself

Becoming a mother transformed me. There's no question about it. But that transformation didn't take me away from myself—it brought me back to what really matters.

That said, I'm not going to lie: I was afraid. Very afraid of losing myself. And for a year and a half, I struggled to find myself again. I was caught up in the daily grind, in caring for my child, in constantly adapting. I was a mom, yes, but I wasn't quite sure where the woman, the creative person, the business owner had gone.

And then, little by little, I found my way back to myself. I realized something precious: the co-parenting dynamic we'd built allowed me to fully exist. To be a mother and free. To be present and fulfilled.

Today, I find a balance between my desires, my work, and my role as a mother. I've learned to set boundaries, to detach myself more quickly from what's toxic or unproductive. My energy is precious—I reserve it for what nourishes me, for what does me good.

What has changed most in me since my son's birth is this detachment. I know what matters. I no longer have time to waste on pretense.

But what has remained deeply unchanged is my need for connection. For presence. To share with my loved ones. To love them and create beautiful things with them.

Creating a family, passing on values

We approached our co-parenting by listening to our child and our own rhythms. For the first six months, he lived with me full-time. Then he started spending some weekends with his father. And around 16 months, we established a balanced shared custody arrangement: one week at his father's, one week at mine.

It's not perfect, but it's alive. And above all, it's a model we've thought through, chosen, and embraced.

I want my son to grow up with the idea that anything is possible. That there isn't just one way of doing things. That he can choose his life, his relationships, his environment. That he has the right to build a family that reflects who he is.

I'd like to say to all queer women wondering about motherhood: yes, it's possible. A thousand times possible. Whatever form your life takes, whoever is by your side—or even if you're alone—you're legitimate. There's no universal right way to become a mother. There's only yours.

"Having a child is the most intense adventure there is. And you are the only one who knows what's right for you."

I'm also thinking of all the women who don't see themselves reflected in the dominant models. To those who feel left out, sometimes excluded or invisible. I want to tell you that you're not alone. There isn't just one model that works. There are as many possible families as there are stories to be told.

And to my son, Nour, I hope he'll one day understand that the greatest gift we can give each other is the freedom to be ourselves.

I was rejected by my parents when they found out I loved women. I still carry that pain with me. But I want him to know that he grew up in a home where love is a blessing, not a fault. Where we will never be punished for being ourselves. Where the freedom to love is non-negotiable." 

Did you enjoy Gloria's story and want to learn more? Follow her on Instagram @gloriatropical.