How My Child Helped My Transition With Their Transition
I was the one who needed to “transition;” my child needed to grow into who they were always meant to be
I t was 2006. Gender reveal parties weren’t really ‘a thing’ yet, but gender-based stereotypes still were. Especially here in the south, where buy-in for one’s assigned “gender” roles was easy, convenient, and perpetually reinforced.
My husband and I were eager to learn all three of our kids’ sexes via ultrasound. We’d always hoped to have a child of each gender. And God — in only God’s divinely humorous way — was brilliant enough to give us one of each: in 2000, a boy; in 2002, a girl; and in 2006, well… let’s just say God threw caution to the wind and decided to make the ride a little more fun!
When my third and last child was born, I’d gone into labor a week earlier than my scheduled c-section. Thank God, because this bouncing baby boy weighed in at just under 10 lbs. (9 lbs., 15 oz., to be exact). The birthing center staff nicknamed him “Bubba,” for being the biggest newborn in their nursery that month.
We’d eventually learn that everything about Bubba was big: his smile, his cry, his imagination. He was an easy baby; jolly. He…
