Consider one late, lamented mother’s situation. A story in The Seattle Times about the Oregon Supreme Court’s recent nullification of almost 3,000 same-sex marriages began with the example of Sam Ciapanna and Dean Williamson. These longtime partners married a year ago in Portland, according to the story, as much for Ciapanna’s dying mother as for themselves.

Ciapanna said, “When mom died, in her obituary, Dean was described as a son-in-law. Now she’s gone and I guess the obit was dishonest.” And, I guess members of the Oregon Supreme Court can look forward to being haunted by a testy old lady.

Other big news events also capture mothers’ attention. I imagine many a Catholic mom has been torn by the ascendence of Cardinal Ratzinger, the Dictator of Doctrine. On the one hand she holds any pope in reverence; on the other hand she’d like to kick him right in the papal nuncio for his aggressively anti-gay position.

The news out of Connecticut could also spark mixed feelings from moms. Yay, a state finally offered gays civil unions without being forced to by a court. Boo, gays are still second class. Yay, New England states are leading the way. Boo, it’s too cold to live there.

One thing might make all this roller-coaster action easier for mothers: it’s not new to them. Many moms went on their own personal hair-raising ride when they found out their child was gay.

Like the established stages of grief, parents go through a set of emotions when children come out to them: shock, disbelief, anger, guilt, fear, bourbon.

A mother might have started out the evening saying, “You can tell me anything, dear,” but by 9 p.m. her hands are over her ears and she’s reading the utility bills aloud to drown you out. The next morning, after nobody has slept, she promises you’ll have a long talk tonight — provided she can remember where she lives.

And the roller coaster has only just begun to head north at this point. During the guilt phase you just want to scream at her for putting herself through unwarranted misery. But, she’s gotta do it. She wonders if she breast-fed you too long; she wonders if she didn’t breast-feed you long enough. She frets she was too controlling, too lenient, too expressive, too inexpressive, too tired. She worries she ate too much shellfish and not enough fiber. She suddenly remembers Halloween 1978 when she let you dress up as the Bionic Woman. Is that where she went wrong?

My own mother felt like a rubber ball as she tried to come to terms with her liberal notion that it was fine for anyone else’s kid to be gay — but not hers. This was the queer version of “Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner.”

Certainly not always but often moms move through the stages and regain solid ground. They discover they didn’t cause “it,” and that there’s nothing intrinsically wrong with “it.” They may occasionally clean forget both, but basically they’ve got hold of the truth.

Then moms are where they started — wanting to protect you from hurt. Not easy on a homophobic planet. Those many mothers who ride the roller coaster with us, who send birthday cards to our partners and irate emails to their legislators, deserve more than a day.