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Two sad events yesterday.

First, I received a bile filled text from someone, calculated to cut to the heart of my insecurities about myself.  Intellectually I realised that the sender of this message was more exposing their inability to manage their life, insecurities and depression but my initial reaction was breathtakingly negative.  Then I recovered my composure, went out and had coffee with one friend, a glass of wine with another friend, sent some love out into the universe in the form of an inspirational quote and cooked delicious dinner for one of my beloved closest confidants and her little family.  I pushed through a core workout this morning before brunch with another friend – damn I am so lucky!!!  I live in a beautiful city, in a lovely home with my babies, have an active social life and a job that pays more that just meeting the bills.

Later on in the day yesterday the 300 metre roll of GladWrap I bought when Costco opened in 2009 finally ran out.  I sent a text to Jeremy about both the text and the GladWrap, he is currently at Confurgence (google it, its an amazing convention) and due back on Monday. In our text exchange it was evident that I was a bit sadder about the GladWrap than I was about the text.  That roll of GladWrap moved into the Princess Palace with us, it had wrapped up countless muffins, portions of meat, leftover fritata, fondant icing and so many other culinary delights.  The new roll (which has been patiently waiting in the cupboard for six months) looks a little bright and brash but no doubt will serve us well for the next five or so years.

When you are the parent of a transgender child you do cop a lot of negativity.  People are uncomfortable about your child and what they represent.  The norms that you apply to yourself and your childhood suddenly don’t apply to a transgender child.  The milestones of childhood and adolescence are different in some ways but reassuringly similar in others.  I have worked hard in the last twelve months to develop the resilience that I will need this year to support the next stage of Jeremy’s journey.  I give no one permission to take that resilience away from me, nor permission to dim the joy that I experience in life, or to foist a poor value system on me that is contrary to my beliefs.

Jeremy deserves nothing but the best, to be surrounded by loving friends, family and cohort of peers.  The haters can hate but our love is like a shield of steel.

Another year has passed. Myself and my family have grown, and we have learned many new lessons.

This year is my last year before I medically transition, five more months until I’m 18! It’s going to be tough, I think, adjusting to the hormones, but this is just another stretch in my long journey. I know that whatever happens with me, my mum will always be there to support me and love me. I don’t think I’ve ever met a person more lucky than me to have a humyn like her in their lives.

December is a time for family. Even as I type, mum, Luke, and I are heading towards Canberra on our three day trip to Brisbane to see aunties, uncles, cousins, and grandparents to celebrate our love for one another. I am lucky to have a family that has loved me through my journey, and I will always say to those who feel as if they have no family this year, you will always have me.

I would also like to thank everyone that stays with this blog and has read along with our journey. I have always seen how cathartic writing for this blog has been for mum, and it has allowed us to discuss and learn from each other through a time where communication is integral. Your viewership and the help it has brought to her and our readers is what keeps us going through everything. So thank you. You all hold a special place in my heart.

Please everyone stay safe, have a wonderful holiday season.

-Jeremy

So a pretty cool thing happened.

Jeremy had dinner with his dad.  An event 22 months in the making.  According to Jeremy they talked heaps, and his dad said that they needed to do more things, just the two of them.

Jeremy is really happy about how it went.  Therefore I am happy.

Jeremy reckons that you need at least four hugs per day to prosper.  On Mondays I need considerably more.   I remember reading a story about Yul Brynner talking about the early days of parenthood with one of his adopted children, holding her skin to skin in a hammock, rocking her to calm her.  At 14, a pearl of wisdom imparted to my dad was that teens needed hugs every day or else they would warp, my dad is the best hugger in the world.

For a child the power of a simple hug can be enough to turn the tide of dark thoughts.  It is a tangible sign that your child is worth your undivided attention.  It is a brief but powerful reminder that once they were always in your embrace and even though their hand is no longer little and clings constantly to yours, your love hasn’t changed.  To my mind a hug is parenting at its most powerful.

Jeremy is speeding towards 18.

Recently J underwent his second psych assessment and was told by the psychiatrist that they will provide Jeremy with the diagnosis he needs to access his cross hormone treatment.  His blood tests will be completed in February so he will be prepared.

His 18th birthday will be a D-Day for me, scripts for cross hormone treatment will suddenly become reality, his journey will take an irreversible step.  Well not totally irreversible but still, when your life has revolved around binders, packers, boys clothes, it is very easy to convince yourself that despite the stats, despite all your support, maybe your support won’t be needed, maybe this journey will end, maybe your baby will realise the dreams you had instead the dreams they have.   It’s a new kind of mourning.

Time has been a double edged sword.  The two years on this path has given us space to seek counsel, adapt, educate.  It has also given me time to think.  My marriage was characterised by constant movement, posting to posting, moving from state to state, the constant negotiating with schools, day care arrangements, employers, managing my husband’s absences long and short.  Our decisions were made on the run about so many things.  So two years to spend time exploring Jeremy in a new gender is a luxury of sorts.

It has been a revelation to a decision making process to have time to review and assess, to change a mindset, to influence others.  But here we are, a date that seemed so far away at the start of 2013 is now staring us down a barrel.

So we are looking yet again at some level of transformation.  I am pretty sure the requested four hugs per day will go a long way to keeping our sanity.

I have finally gathered the courage to read about the suicide of Riley Matthew Moscatel, a 17 year old transgender teen in Pennsylvania.  I choked down tears reading from his suicide note “You say she/her/daughter and I say nothing” because for me, out of every point he raised, this is the one that I see as being at the heart of so much distress for transgender youth.

Imagine if you referred to your child constantly as “idiot”.  Think of the effect on a young person to always be referred to in such negative terms.  Their self worth measured by a derogatory term, no positive reinforcement.  A child raised in this way would have to be extraordinary to rise above such verbal abuse.  The normal child, the everyday child would wither, depressed, lack confidence, slide to the bottom of the academic pile.  In some small way I think this must be how a transgender child feels each time they are misgendered.  It’s like a knife in their heart.  A knife that a parent can plunge into their child over and over again simply by not listening, by not consulting, reading, respecting what they are being told.

So I have no option.  Maybe other parents have options, but I don’t see that I do.  Nearly two years on Jeremy is who he is, this is no passing phase or cry for attention.

Does that make it hard for you? I can’t stop to care about how you feel.  I will explain and then I have to move on, you can accept Jeremy or not.  It is not my role to make you feel comfortable about my transgender child.  I can’t change your embarrassment or pre-judgement of your friend’s reactions or whatever the particular issue is that makes you pull away, or hesitate, or start to apologise and over explain my child.

Just like a parent that will seek out therapies and treatments for their seriously ill child, like a parent who will fight service providers and government departments to access services and products for child with a disability, I see my prime role as creating an environment to support my child.

I thought this journey would get easier instead I find that as Jeremy moves towards 18 and he steps further away from me there are new terrors.  Do you worry about your child being grabbed by louts on the street, feeling between his legs to humiliate him? Or being forcibly ejected from toilets? Sideways glances, rude comments, deliberate misgendering are all daily grist for a transgender young person’s mill.  I have talked before about the challenges that Jeremy had at school, that it was not the overt but the covert reactions that Jeremy found tiring, the teachers that looked past him uncomfortable in addressing him, the other students ignoring him.  Had his emotional foundation been less stable he would have slid further into depression.  Our story would not be the positive one that it is.  But I can’t be there all the time, I can’t manage the whole world much as I want to.  I am in terror that Jeremy will have one of those dreadful physical confrontations that so often seem to be a result of a group of “lads” fueled by ignorance and alcohol.  A recent incident at LGBTIQ venue “The Beat” has hit home that even gay nightclubs are not a safe environment.  

Straight kids get into trouble, straight kids get assaulted, straight kids commit suicide.  I get it.  Statistically though transgender young people are over represented in assaults, depression and suicide.  

Riley’s parents have suffered the worst pain in the world, the death of a child.  But unlike a parent who has lost a child through disease or misadventure there was something of which they were in control.  Riley’s parents, even in death, referred to him as “she”. That may not have been enough to change Riley’s mind, all I know is that Riley felt that pain.

So I am taking control of what I can when it comes to Jeremy.  I will not leave him wallowing in a pit of despair, unable to balance what he sees with how he feels.  I will help him have a voice.  I will show him respect, because his smile is a treasure.  I can’t manage your feelings too.

trans-teen-steps-front-train-commits-suicide

I’m sorry
Each time someone misgenders you
When you notice stares or hear negative comments
That because of who we are and where we live you have to wait to access hormone treatment
That you feel that parts of your family no longer love you
That things other people do you can’t automatically do too

My heart gets so heavy sometimes, and my momma shield falls away and I want to cry and cry. My love for you is so big, it makes me feel 10 foot tall, I want to make it all better, fight the world and change society. I hate that you have to face any negativity.

I love your strength. My day brightens each time I see your thousand watt smile. But mostly right now I am feeling lost and not sure that I have managed everything correctly, pushed the right buttons, ticked the right boxes.

Sometimes I wish you were little again, and when the doubts wake me up at 2 am your little sturdy body, kicking me in the back, would be there. I miss your little hands holding my face still so you could give me a big kiss. Our biggest decision then was what to have for breakfast and what to wear.

Sometimes I wish we were at the end of this journey, that we have gone through the surgeries and treatments and you have your goal realised.

I know tomorrow things will seem brighter. I know that this is a bump in our otherwise sunny happy travels. I wanted you to know that even when everything seems ok I am still vulnerable, I still question that I have done all that I can.

Life is like that, no neat packages. It is unpredictable and varied with highs and lows. Through it all I hope you always know even when times aren’t great I will always try and I will always love you.

Momma