From Helene…
So much has changed over the past few years. My beautiful daughter with the lithe body of an athlete is now my good looking, sturdily built son with a close cut beard. I no longer see the daughter except in my thoughts or old photos that I try, unsuccessfully, not to look at. In the beginning of Henry’s transition there were times I did not even recognize him. I guess I was still looking for Eve.
Eve and I always had a very close, typical mother-daughter relationship. We’d discuss everything she wanted to discuss, hug, enjoy spending time together, go to movies, laugh, talk about the family. You get the picture. That she didn’t like to shop, get a manicure, sit with her knees together didn’t rattle me. She liked boys, had boyfriends. But she did kind of walk like a truck driver and carrying a purse was something we laughed about since they way she held it made it appear that it was a smelly bag of trash. I dreaded the weekends because she would come home after being out with friends and throw herself on my bed in tears that she didn’t fit in. I attributed this to the fact that she was adopted (she’s Korean, I’m not) and teenage angst in general. I must have been living on another planet.
It was only in college that she learned that there was such a thing as being transgendered and it was then she realized she was in the wrong body. When she told her father and me we thought it was some adolescent phase that she would snap out of. We didn’t want her to change since we liked her just the way she was. And we did our best to keep her that way. Her psychiatrist agreed with her dad and me that this was camouflage concealing some other issue. When she started testosterone instead of helping to find an experienced endocrinologist we left her on her own, resulting in doses that were way too high causing some significant problems.
Having to explain Henry’s transition to every friend, aunt, uncle, cousin, doctor, neighbor, acquaintance, former teachers and more was unrelentingly exhausting. A neighbor in the supermarket would mistake Henry for his younger brother resulting in embarrassment for the neighbor, everyone struggled with pronouns as well as the name change…no one got it. However, those nearest and dearest to me and Henry’s dad (my ex and good friend) were extraordinary in their support whether they got it or not!!!
We found wonderful doctors. A psychopharmacologist who helps deal medically with Henry’s anxiety…a psychotherapist who is always in Henry’s corner…an endocrinologist who closely monitors (and lowered) Henry’s testosterone…a plastic surgeon who specializes in mastectomy for transitioning females to males (covered by insurance in case you’re wondering.)
Years have passed and Eve is now Henry with the close cut beard and a deeper voice, breastless and muscular. And happy! Our relationship has not changed. It is still a mother-daughter relationship. We talk on the phone twice daily, sometimes more, still hug, go to movies. I know this will never change. It’s how we operate. I am happy for him. He has struggled to get this far and it has taken courage and gumption. Bravo Henry!
I wish I could see and hug Eve. I wish it every day. I miss her so much. I always will.
From Henry…
My earliest memory of feeling like I was trapped in the wrong body was when I was about 5 years old watching the series Faerie Tale Theatre. I remember wanting to be the prince played by Matthew Broderick. Growing up I wasn’t aware of what being “transgender” was but I had secret rituals relating to cross-dressing. When I was home, alone I would go into my brother’s closet and try on his clothes while looking in the mirror. I set my video camera up, tied my hair back and flattened my breasts with my hands.
Other than my lack of interest in most feminine things, my mom and I had a very close bond… especially since I felt so estranged from my peers. It wasn’t that anyone in particular was cruel to me. I had so much going on in my head and so much to say, but I would just come across as shy. I didn’t know then that I felt I was in the wrong body but I was miserable. Almost every week like clockwork, I would run into my mom’s arms and cry. I would cry that I didn’t fit in, for example I would eat my lunch in the bathroom stall. While high school was a lonely time for me, I always felt love and support from my mom. My mom gave the best hugs and very often, those hugs were the cure I needed after a hurtful or bad day.
When I went to college I tried my best to be the “ideal” girly girl and dress the part from high heals to hair accessories. Very quickly, I became depressed. At the time, I didn’t know much about what transgender meant but I was aware that I was and always had been attracted to women. My first girlfriend was the one who opened my eyes to the fact that I was transgender (female to male). Once I discovered my transgender identity, I felt freer than ever before. However, my relationship with my mom strained. I had no idea how hard it was on my mom and how she felt she was mourning the loss of a daughter.
When you’re the one going through a change it’s hard to see the effects it has on other people. It’s like you’re wearing blinders. Looking back, I expected a lot of my parents soon after I announced I was transgender. I wanted them to call me Henry and use male pronouns and I was very hurt when they struggled with it. Throughout my transition, my mom has been there with me and it’s her love and acceptance that helps me through the good and the bad. Little things have changed such as cuddling in bed or changing in front of one another. However, our relationship is the same if not stronger. The period when we weren’t speaking too much (in the beginning of my transition) was probably the saddest time in my life. I need and depend on my mom’s love like human beings need oxygen. We share so much and besides being my mother, she is my closest friend. I try to become aware of all that my transition has put my mom through and when I think about it, it just makes me love her more. I can only hope that I too would make drastic changes in exchange for my mom’s happiness.