In May we went to a family party. My eldest wore an old dress jacket of mine with a bow tie. The youngest wore one of her birthday tops with a tutu and the sparkly silver ballet shoes. My kids felt great! Like really great. When we arrived several family members failed to hide their looks of disapproval. I pretended I didn’t notice. The two sisters of the hit birthday gifts jumped in to compliment the kids, telling them how fantastic they looked, how they too needed a bow tie, a pair of sparkly ballet shoes, a tutu… I think it was on this day I got a faint inkling of things to come.
By June we were completely comfortable with her clothing choice. We had no qualms calling her by her requested names, Twilight Sparkle, Sofia the First, Pinky Pie… We were still having the behavioural issues though. Nothing seemed to work. We tried everything. And I mean, everything. Finally, in utter despair, I emailed the OT who had been seeing our child and expressed my deep concern over her behaviour and for the first time I said “I think the girls clothing might be something more than a sensory issue.” She emailed me right back with an appointment to see a child psychologist, another one. I was grateful but wondered what this one could advise that the other hadn’t.
We went along, my kid and I, and it turned out the practice we were attending had both a psychologist and a psychiatrist, they had decided it would be better to see the psychiatrist first. So we did. We sat down in a beautiful office, full of fabulous toys. The psychiatrist pointed my child towards a huge chest full of lego and a garage of cars. My child smiled politely and turned instead to a doll’s house and began to play.
I told the psychiatrist all about my child. By the end of that hour he said “I’m not seeing anything wrong with this kid. He’s really well adjusted, he’s thoughtful and shows empathy. He follows instructions. He has a very strong bond with you. I don’t think it’s him that’s the issue, it sounds like his brother might be the one we should be seeing. (I’d told him all about my eldest too while answering questions about the family environment). He advised me to respond to the hitting/bad behaviour by firmly but respectfully removing them from the scene and sitting with my kid quietly for a time before returning…
I left that office elated! My kid was awesome. This guy saw what I saw. As we drove home I realised I’d forgotten to mention the gender thing, but I pushed it from my mind because this guy said my kid was great!
I tried gently removing her from the scenes of her crimes, but she just started attacking me. I barely had time to put his idea into practice when she said to me, as we lay in the dark, just before sleep – “Mum. Why did you do me a boy’s body?”
It is impossible to relay the deep emotion that came with this question and from this question. I can only tell you that I knew in that instant that something wasn’t right and although I didn’t understand it and I definitely didn’t welcome it, I knew that it was my job to make it right.
The days that followed contained further statements, like “I’ll never be a mum will I mum? Because I’ve got the wrong body” and “Can you help me be a girl”…
My stress levels shot through the roof as I tried desperately to process these revelations. I began to have severe panic attacks, so overwhelming I felt sure my heart was about to explode. But at the same time I had to hold it together, to be the one to lift the weight from those little shoulders. I promised her I would help her, that we would find someone to help us both. That everything would be okay.
I called the psych practice and spoke to the receptionist, I told her “I don’t know what to do. My son says he is a girl on the inside and he’s asking me would it hurt to cut my penis off?” Half an hour later the psychologist called, I poured it all out and do you know what she said? She said “You are in the right place, we will help you.” In an amazing coincidence, her partner, the psychiatrist we’d seen, is NZ leading expert in transgender youth healthcare.
It was about three weeks before we could get an appointment, (he only works one day per week at the practice) she advised me to carry on as I was. Let my child lead. Give them my full support and unconditional love.
By the time we got to the appointment my child had socially transitioned. I felt like we had to do it fast, her cries of despair were building. I actually made this choice without consulting my partner. I felt so strongly that I was willing to lose my relationship with him to ensure my kid’s wellbeing. This is another thing I don’t believe I can ever explain, but it’s something I would do again in a heartbeat if I had it all to go over.
It’s been seven months, I can no longer recall the shadow of Izzy who was with us before, her birth name no longer seems sacred, and I can’t imagine life without my daughter in it, But most importantly of all, my child is happy, She’s thriving, My child has not once wavered from being a girl. She “ticks all the transgender boxes” insistent, consistent and persistent.
If there is a parent out there wondering, “How young is too young to transition?” I would say – don’t be afraid, let your child lead. You will do them no harm by allowing them to express their gender as they feel it. It’s okay. They will be okay. You will be okay. I would say don’t concern yourself with the fools that say, “If your child said he was a dog would you allow him to sleep in a kennel and eat dog food” – you know that’s not the same, I promise you – it’s not the same. I know, because I have a son who wears skirts to school, and he is a boy. I know the difference, and so do you. I would say trust yourself, trust your child. I would say – just live.
Live a good life. Live a life of love.