First I started writing. I’ve always written, to some degree or another. Not as much as I’d like, but when my thoughts are jumbled, I have found that trying to put them down on paper frequently helps me make some sense of them. When I realized I was struggling with some of this “trans” stuff, I decided to put pen to paper in hopes of finding some guidance and focus.
When I told X that I was writing a blog, he said, “Oh, you’re going to be one of those moms?” I laughed, and then said, “Yes, I guess I am.” I went on to explain that I would not make the blog public without his consent, but that I thought it might help people. Not that I am any expert in anything, but knowing that we are not alone helps. I know this from experience.
Just last week at the support group, it helped me to hear from the other parents – how they felt, how their kids were doing, what was happening at the various schools, all that. It helped to know that there were other parents who love their trans kids like crazy, and want them to grow into happy, healthy, fulfilled adults.
It also helped me to hear that these parents were sad to lose the the little boy or girl that they had nurtured since birth. Even though the child is still there, it’s different. If you’re little girl is now a trans-boy, chances are you’re not going to walk her down the aisle. Chances are you’re not going to support her through pregnancy as your grandchild grows in her belly. And though you maybe were never even conscious of those thoughts or projections, suddenly your future world is spinning on a different axis.
I asked my child – my son, I guess I should say (though I still hesitate) – how he felt about me making it public. He said it was fine. I thought that was awesome.
And then I thought it was terrifying. Because now it was on me. Did I really want to put this all out there? Tell pretty much EVERYBODY I knew that my kid was trans?
No. Really I didn’t. I don’t. But I feel like I have to. I owe it to my child and all the other trans kids – and adults, for that matter – to show them that we love them, no matter what they may look like or sound like or dress like. We love them no matter which bathroom they use. We love them because they are beautiful, wonderful, caring souls who simply want to be ok with who they are. They are still our child, our sibling, our parent, our co-worker – they just look a little different than before.