The Leotard

Not much in the way of clothing strikes fear in my heart anymore.  Except... swimsuits and leotards.  Shhh.  It is my secret.  Yeah, I still struggle with what to do if someone sees a bulge on my kid where they think it shouldn't be.  People who know us, know D is a boy, so it wouldn't matter to them.  People who don't know us, assume D is a girl and we leave it at that.  But what would they think if they assume he is a girl and their eyes wander south... and notice he is not?  I should remind myself of one of my favorite mantras by our beloved Dr. Seuss: "Those that matter, don't mind, and those that mind, don't matter."  I wish that was the case this time.  The problem with believing that is all it will take is one person to notice, whisper to the next, and we have a whole flurry of comments that may not be appropriately timed.  Don't get me wrong, I love to talk about gender diversity.  I love to explain to people how there are 4 parts to gender identity and that they are all independent.  I love when I am surprised with a parent saying "Wow.  My child is like that.  I just thought s/he was gay".  We all get so afraid of what others will think and we shut this stuff up inside us.  But it always escapes, no matter how hard we try.  Fear and hate are tricky like that.  They ooze out of us when we least expect it.  This time my fear oozed out.

We were shopping last week for a new outfit for Arial class.  I am thrilled that D has finally found a hobby he loves.  He hasn't tried anything organized since the t-ball debacle of 2009.  I knew t-ball was not the sport for him, but I think Daddy was still holding on to hope that he would be one of those "catch playing sons".  We are finally in a good place now, a new thrilling hobby, meeting new kids, and a supportive staff.  But oh dear, there is the wardrobe.  I think we did a pretty good job camouflaging the "package" with a swim skirt over a pair of leggings, but then, fear oozed out.  I started thinking people might wonder why he only had one outfit to wear to class, and started thinking parents may wonder if I ever wash it.  Ha!  That pesky fear.  We were at the store and happened to find a metallic silver and black leotard.  He loved it of course, so we bought it and a mini skirt with shorts attached.  Ooops.  I forgot to check the sizes.  The mini skirt is two sizes too small, so that one is out.  The leotard is stretchy, and you guessed it, too small.  Cue the horror music.  He still wants to wear it.  Too small.  Without the skirt.  I may need a fainting couch.  I gulped as he got dressed for class yesterday and pulled on his shiny new leotard.

I said "How about this over it, or the leggings over the leotard?" holding up a pair of shorts.
"No.  I like it like this." D replied.
Gulp.  My inner "Scrubs" dialogue played out as I sat there, speechless, hoping for an answer that wouldn't crush my child now, or at class.  I kept hearing the parents at the last gender support group talking about how it breaks their hearts to see their kids putting limits on themselves because of their bodies.  How they put limits on their kids because of their bodies.  I heard the regret and sadness in their voices and it echoed in my ears.

"No"  I told myself.  "Leave it alone.  Let him be who he is.  If someone says something, deal with it then.  Do not let your fear ooze out."  So we went to class.  No one commented.  I caught myself "checking" from across the room a few times to see how much the bulge was noticeable.  Then I told myself to let it go.  He was having fun.  Fear will not win today.

We have been waiting... for a friend like you.

For my son, finding that best friend has been a hard task.  We homeschool which makes it a little harder, he refuses to take formal classes, and our weekly homeschool parkday hasn't resulted in that hard and fast friend that I really think he needs.  He loves hanging out with his brothers, and makes friends readily with all the children who come to our house frequently, but I think there are times when he desperately wants to be understood completely.  I was praying that he would find this friend when we started going to the Children's Hospital LA gender support group.

I got butterflies when I saw him hanging out with a child his age in the tree house.  When I spoke to the child, I was thrilled that she was a kind and respectful spirit.  On the drive home, I asked the kids "Who was the girl in the tree house?"
"Jane"
"Was she nice?"
"Yes.  She is the only person we really played with today."
"Oh.  Do you want to come back and play with her next time?"
"YES."
"Thank goodness" I thought.  Maybe, just maybe, she will be the one.  I was excited to hear that Jane went home and told her friends about my son, and that she was excited too.  It has been a few months and I am thrilled to say that the kids continue to talk about "Jane" and we are all excited to play this weekend at our upcoming support group.  I hope that they can provide the connection for each other that is so needed in childhood, a friend who just "gets you". 

Fingers crossed.

Surrogacy

When I tell people I want to become a surrogate, I usually get one of two responses:
"Wow!  That is so incredible.  You are an angel to give such a gift to someone else."
"Why would you do that?  There are already so many children in this world without homes."

The thing is, I don't feel like I am doing either.  I kinda feel selfish.  I love birth.  I love being pregnant.  It is one time in my life that I feel like my body is doing truly amazing things and I am in awe over its ability.  I love my firm round tummy, feeling all the kicks inside it, and expect my swollen ankles and achy body.  I spent my whole life being told "You have some great child-bearing hips!" and think 3 uses of those hips is just not enough.  Labor is somewhat predictable for me and manageable by just sitting in a hot shower through the strongest contractions.  Giving birth at home is an amazing experience and I want to share how incredible that is with another couple.

When my friend told me about her miscarriage and inability to continue trying for another pregnancy, she was devastated and heartbroken.  It affected her so deeply.  I felt guilty that pregnancy and birth came so easily to me.  I remember thinking "I can do it for you".  I bit my tongue because that wasn't what she wanted, but it planted a seed in my heart.  Maybe I am not done just yet.  A year later when both my younger boys had fully weaned, I was ready.  In the process of finding out who my ideal Intended Parents were, I had an "ah-ha moment".  I realized that I would be truly fulfilled if I could find a couple with one or both Intended Parents that were transgender.  I figured that other surrogates might not have the same understanding that I have, regarding gender-variance and transgenderism and that I would quickly find this ideal couple.  After calling and emailing many agencies, I was disappointed to discover that none of the agencies had any current Intended Parents that fit my ideals, in fact, only one had ever had an Intended Parent that was transgender.  I was heartbroken.  I really wanted to find someone like my son to do this for, as sort of a full circle karma experience.  I figured that if I put this energy out into the universe, maybe someday someone would return the favor to my son, if he ever needed it.  Another aspect is the financial compensation.  I know those puberty blocker drugs are expensive and not covered by insurance.  I know I need to start now, so that I can give my son what he needs to be who he is inside.  There is nothing I won't do to make that happen for my son.  That is my job as his mother.  There is not a lot I can do on this journey that he is on.  All I can do is support him by giving him the solid foundation of love and respect that he needs and deserves, and provide him the tools that he needs to find himself.

So really, I am being selfish.  I want to experience the joy of pregnancy, exhilaration of birth, the positive energy of doing something good for someone else, and making the path a little easier for my son.  Maybe being selfish isn't always a bad thing.