My husband and I were not natural or gifted parents.
I was youngest of three, and had had a few miserable experiences with baby sitting. My husband is a man, so, also did not have much experience with babies. Still, we decided to go for it.
It took a while – we were a bit older, but I got pregnant and then, after the normal interval, had the child. We thought she was a boy, and named her Noah.
I was deliriously happy, even when I was sleep deprived and miserable. I had whatever is the opposite of post partum depression.
Time passed.
We often called our child The Boo.
The Boo was a happy, extroverted, sweet, and smart child.
When the Boo was fairly young, 13 or 14, we all knew he would ‘come out’, and he did.
My husband and I were busy. He had a full time job, some late nights, lots of deadlines. I was working at flexible minimum wage jobs (bookstore, library) and doing the things parents do – taking the Boo to play dates, parent teacher conferences, doctor appointments, and visits to family. Later there was tap dancing, theater rehearsals (never sports), braces.
The Boo went to public school from K through middle school. There were bullies, but there were also friends who were lookouts and angel defenders. In high school the Boo went to La Salle Academy, a rigorous Catholic prep school. My young, gay, Jewish Boo was going to learn biology, English, and the love of Jesus Christ our savior. There was a decent (not as decent as we had hoped) theater program. It’s all kind of a blur.
There were the inevitable braces, learning to drive, both automatic and shift, first love, psat’s, college applications.
The Boo had always felt a kinship, or more, with girls and women. She mentioned, when she was only 3 or so, that she would prefer to be a girl, thankyouverymuch. We heard the Boo, but somehow ignored her too. My dad got very sick and eventually died. My mom lost her mind, first from shock and then from dementia. My husband’s dad died. Work was a game of juggling and worrying about money. I was trying to be an artist during every spare minute. So, we ignored those little suggestions and hints all through childhood because we were kind of oblivious. Well, more than kind of.
The Boo went to college, N.Y.U. I’ll get back to that.
Somewhere between the class of 18 graduation and post grad life the Boo told us she was trans. Finally, we heard her. She had dabbled with hormone treatments, on and off, and then on.
Was it an adjustment?
In a way. The biggest adjustment was calling her she and using her new name, Lyra. We make mistakes and call her Noah, still refer to her sometimes as he, Noee, the Boo. Mostly, we call her The Child, because it is easy. We love her more than I can express.
Recently a nasty person on twitter, when it was still twitter, said “you will never normalize this”, among other things. I’ve thought about that comment a lot, having imaginary conversations with people who hate the very idea of being trans, and what we call “plain old gay”. People who think it is abnormal, who think it has anything at all to do with them.
There was no effort to indoctrinate, among her elementary school teachers, her classmates, or from her Jesus loving educators. As parents, who had time to indoctrinate? Her reading during her K through 12 life was pretty much the same as all of her friends; Winnie the Pooh, Dr. Seuss, Harry Potter (oh, irony), various school assigned classics and boring novels. She helped us during my mother’s long period of decline, helped my husband when I had to go away for treatment, and is still pals with her old circle of friends.
Do I have regrets? Yup, as does any parent.
I wish I had somehow figured out a way to get her piano lessons. I wish my husband and I had been more alert to the A.D.H. D. issues which blossomed during her college years, so that we could have helped her navigate all the doctors and meds she needed. I kind of wish I’d made her watch old Mr. Rogers episodes, instead of letting her see Power Puff girls and Dexter’s Lab. But as I child, I hated The Mr. Rogers show. I liked Batman. I wish I had gone with her to a nutritionist so both of us could have learned together to eat well. I wish I had cooked with her, made cookies with her, taken her to more live music.
As for her now being a woman, we shop. She is beautiful, tall, lanky, graceful. We loan each other clothes, she gives me make up and curly hair advice. We talk about tv and movies and politics. It makes me laugh to think any parent believes they hold control over their child. And if we did, what would be the joy in that? My husband and I had a child. She was a great child, and now, a wonderful adult. She will never mow down anyone with an assault weapon. She will not ban books. She is a friend to many, including us. She has a cat named Jackson.
Kind of boring, truth be told. 🌸
Lonely artist. 
How wonderful. My children were each who they are, who they became from the moment of birth. As you say, “it makes me laugh to think any parent believes they hold control over their child”.
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