Families

[CN: PTSD, pregnancy, birth] Something snapped inside me and I was transported backwards in time.

[CN: PTSD, pregnancy, birth] Something snapped inside me and I was transported backwards in time.

“Oh, great!” Says the woman on the other end of the line. “Our waitlist is only about 18 months right now.” Not a typo.

[CN: childbirth, pregnancy] "You're asking for C-section? You?!" [my obstetrician] almost shrieked.

I always loved you. Even when you weren’t speaking to me. Even when you scratched my face out of a family picture. Even when you slammed the door and said, “You’re not my parent.” Even when we fought about school and grades. Even when you were a teenager and didn’t come home at night and Dad and I stayed up all night scared to death, wondering where you were.

Life is pretty normal now — whatever that means — but I’ll always look back on our first few weeks home with our newly-adopted kids and compare it to surviving some kind of parenting boot camp or extended sorority hell week.

People sometimes blame my dad for me being transgender. In their view, I guess, my father being a good dad is the reason I don't feel comfortable in my own skin and battle gender dysphoria. To my mind, this makes no sense. I will say, though, looking back — I did learn a lot about masculinity from my dad.

Ah, kids. Strange little creatures with magical abilities to hide your stuff when you need it the most. You know, like when you’re about to walk out the door to an already late appointment and are faced with an impromptu game of ‘where’s my keys/phone/wallet’.