Sara Berger can't come up with any disadvantages to having two moms. One is good at science and math, the other helps with English homework and computers. Both give good advice about life as a 16-year-old. Both would do anything for her.

"There's just more love," she said, blushing.

Although her biological mother is Vickie Nixon, she considers Sherri Parsons, her mom's partner, to be her mom too. Parsons was present for Berger's birth and hasn't missed a moment since.

Not everyone in North Dakota, or the United States for that matter, approves of Berger's two moms, or their relationship. Statewide and nationally, more lesbian couples have children than gay couples. Advocacy groups across the nation closely watch discussions in capitols during the legislative season. Bob Stenehjem, a state senator for Bismarck and majority leader, says eventually, North Dakota will have to deal with issues ranging from gay marriage to discrimination but may hold out a little longer than others.

"People in North Dakota aren't ready to recognize marriage as being anything other than a union between a male and a female. Will that change? It may very well, but I don't think that's where it's at today," he said.

'Life is a journey'

Parsons and Nixon have been together about 16 years but say they're still honeymooning. Nixon wanted to do something special for Parsons' 47th birthday last summer, so she suggested a trip to Canada. Although they'd intended a quick trip to Winnipeg, they returned to the U.S. united in marriage.

The two considered a commitment ceremony for about five years, but Nixon didn't think it was necessary.

"We already had the commitment, and I thought the ceremony would negate all the years we were together before," she said.

But when the provinces of British Columbia and Ontario legalized marriage for gay and lesbian couples, they decided to make the birthday trip a wedding trip.

Ontario's rules were too prohibitive. In addition to retaining a lawyer to verify divorces -- there are three between Parsons and Nixon -- the government must review and approve the marriage, which can take up to six weeks. But instead of giving up, Nixon and Parsons looked west. Where a small piece of British Columbia borders Montana, they picked the first town on the map, Fernie, as their wedding site.

Parsons called the city to find out what they'd need to do to plan the wedding. She e-mailed the city's two marriage commissioners at noon and by 3 p.m. had a yes from one, who also said she'd bring a witness, and they could use her yard for the ceremony. That was just the beginning of the hospitality they found in Fernie.

Berger decided to join her moms when they decided to get married. They rafted the Elk River, stayed in a bed and breakfast, got wedding gifts from its owners and discounts at stores when the owners found out their reason for visiting Fernie.

The trio wasn't surprised that most British Columbians couldn't understand why their marriage would cause an uproar in the States. But the "cool" factor of seeing her moms marry was marred for Berger.

"In a way it made me a little angry" that people in Fernie were so understanding "because we don't even know any of these people and yet they can accept us better than our state or country?" she said.

Unfortunately, Parsons and Nixon have grown used to the challenges that accompany their marriage, and family, even though they don't like it and continue to fight against it. Their marriage isn't legal at home, and emotions heighten and voices shake, and the frustration is palpable as they discuss fighting what they consider discrimination from the government. But the little things -- the stares they encounter when holding hands in the mall, the special request Nixon had to make to get a day off from work for Parsons' recent knee surgery, the dollars and hours they've invested to cover legal aspects such as parenting agreements, wills and power of attorney -- are what continually flog them and, sometimes, exhaust them.

Current "godmothers" of the local gay community, Parsons and Nixon approached the Mandan Community Center about receiving a family membership in 2002. Although they were this-close to changing the policy, Parsons says, with her fingers pressed against each other, the center's advisory board nixed the idea.

Versus the system

Another Mandan couple, Tammy and Jen Shaff, requested a family membership from the Community Center more recently. They, too, were denied. Cole Higlin, the Community Center's director, says it seems like every year it comes up.

The Shaffs say they were angry that they would have had to provide a marriage certificate to get the family membership. Although they legally share the same last name, Higlin says any time people with different last names apply for family memberships, the center requires documented proof.

"We address it case by case," he said.

For now, the Shaffs have bigger issues on their plate. Tammy Shaff is currently on disability and not working, and they're preparing for Tammy Shaff's adoption of 18-month-old Emmalee. But Jen Schaff says recognizing their family for a group membership is not an issue that will go away for the Community Center, or the gay and lesbian community.

"I plan on being here for life and hope the kids will stay, so why not be a part of the community? It's like the 'Telltale Heart' -- I can hear it beating 'you can't come here' and some days I want to fight until the death, but other times it's not even worth the breath," Jen Shaff says.

And because North Dakota laws are in opposition to Jen Shaff's mission, it may not be worth the breath. Sexual preference or orientation are not protected categories under North Dakota's anti-discrimination laws, although Mark Bachmeier, director of the Department of Labor, says there's been "suggestions that people feel strongly it ought to be." Most states don't provide protection, nor do most federal laws. Because of the exclusion of gays and lesbians, there's no legal basis for the state's Department of Human Rights to take on complaints.

Berger testified before North Dakota legislators during the 2001 session in support of a safe schools bill that said "people with a certain skin color or sexuality shouldn't be picked on, and people who did would face consequences," she explains. She said most legislators were left "speechless, because they hadn't thought about it from someone my age's perspective."

The safe schools bill didn't pass, but that doesn't surprise Bob Uebel, who co-chairs Equality North Dakota with Parsons. The group advocates "full equal rights" for North Dakota's gay, lesbian, transgendered and bisexual community. Although Linda Christenson, a Democratic senator from Grand Forks now living in Minnesota, sponsored the bill, Equality North Dakota worked to push it through.

Another bill that Uebel says directly impacted his group's mission allowed adoption agencies the right to deny applicants their services if it would compromise religious convictions. Jerry Klein, a Fessenden Republican senator, proposed the bill on behalf of the North Dakota Catholic Conference. He said he never anticipated it would perceived as "anti-gay."

"It went way beyond what turned out to me to be a surprise that gays and lesbians thought it was a knock to them. It was just to protect religious organizations, that because of convictions, they wouldn't be forced to place a child in a home that was against their religious principles," he said.

Dealing with issues affecting gays and lesbians isn't entirely new to the Legislature. In 1997, with help from North Dakota's Family Alliance, the Defense of Marriage Act passed, defining marriage as a union between a man and woman. Thirty-seven other states have the law as well. Christina Kindel, director of NDFA, said the act upholds "what marriage always has been and is, for the sake of our families, children and health of our communities and state."

Family is certainly valued in North Dakota. Paul Zipfel, bishop of Bismarck's Catholic diocese, goes so far as to say family is the core of society. Who or what a family is is often not debatable for the church. Zipfel says families can stem only from a union of a man and wife. Although the Shaffs, Nixon and Parsons and others may view themselves as family, he says, that doesn't mean they are.

"It may make them feel good, but feeling good about it doesn't make it right," he said.

Lola Huwe, founder of the Central Dakota chapter of Parents and Friends of Lesbians and Gays, is frustrated by narrow definitions of family. In 1989, daughter Ella announced she was a lesbian. At first, Huwe was saddened there'd be no grandchildren running around the house. While Huwe may not have biological grandchildren from her daughter, the family that has resulted is no small reward.

In addition to the foster children and adopted child Huwe's daughter has brought to the family, PFLAG members have provided a new pool of people to love. She's known as "Mama Lola" to much of the local gay and lesbian community, people who have told her they wish their own parents accepted them as she does. When former area PFLAG members approach her at Minneapolis' PRIDE parade for a hug, she's reminded of why she continues to speak out.

"We're working for a time when everyone is treated equal, I hope for a time when everyone is treated with respect. People are afraid, of what I don't know."

Real fear

For Valerie Damron, her biggest fear in life was losing her daughters. Divorced since 2001 and living with partner Ann Elliott in Minot since then, Damron won a North Dakota Supreme Court decision late last year that allowed her to retain custody of her girls, 10 and 4. The ruling reversed a 1981 case, Jacobson v. Jacobson, that revoked custody from a Bismarck lesbian because "the slings and arrows of a disapproving society" would be too much for her two children to handle.

During the legal battle, Elliott was investigated by the Air Force and received an honorable discharge. Damron also feared losing her job. Damron said she was sure she would lose her kids, and the couple prepared for the worst case scenario. They discussed moving, and Elliott said if the court required, she'd leave and return when the girls turned 18.

"I cried a lot. I was very stressed and angry, mostly because I'm a good mom and teacher and person and that someone could take my kids away just because of who I live with?" Damron said.

Damron has come to realize the significance of the case as time has passed, but the impact the decision could have for gay parents isn't the most important thing to her.

"I just wanted to keep my girls," she said.

New name

Parsons and Nixon are working on a name change -- they'd like to be the Paxons, a blending of who they are. They are many things, they say. Mothers, citizens, churchgoers and, some days, crusaders. But they are, first and foremost, a family.

"She's the brains," Nixon says in reference to Parsons. "She's fearless," she says later.

Parsons concurs, but adds that Nixon has just as much brains, is just as fearless. That's who they are separately, but together, they're "the dynamic duo," Nixon jokes.

As a duo, they say they believe they're called to raise awareness about their community, educate others and encourage acceptance. And every time they do those things, they're empowered. Sometimes an overused word, Parsons says, but here it fits.

"We try harder to go the extra step," they say, to prove to the world they're an "asset to the community."

And even though they realize not everyone will think that, they can't cease their mission. Because what's the most empowering thing?

"That others believe in us."