Pasupatidasi's Blog

thoughts, poetry, life as it is…

if only i didn’t love her

6 Comments

today we, ziona and my self, spoke to her psychiatrist for gender dysphoria in advance of our trip out to university of san francisco for her appoint at the child and adolescent gender clinic.  dr. giamattei asked me something that i almost never hear: “what are you doing for you?”

having a transgender child is worrisome enough. there are hurdles and protocols, expenses that often one must fight to have insurance or medicaid pay…there is the pain of watching the child’s pain about something beyond our power to reconcile.

it’s not like when they’re sick, and feverish, … so that an over the counter pain reliever or febrifuge will suffice.  it’s not like when they’ve fallen down and skinned their knees, when a bit of healing salve and a kiss to make it better helps.  it’s not like when someone at school has been mean or unfair to them and you march right down to wherever to stand up for them and demand an apology.

there’s no one to speak an apology for what has happened to ziona.  there’s no medication to alleviate her pain.  and all the kisses in the world from ‘mom’ or anyone else can’t make it better.

things like puberty blocking implants are only a first step…the one we are at these days.  then it’s down to waiting again. for time to pass, for the magickal age at which she can start cross-hormones. and then another wait. it will be at the very least, five whole years before she turns 16, when a surgeon who has already agreed that ziona should get the reassignment that early given her level of dysphoria, can give her the rest of what she will need to feel whole.

because ziona is also autistic, and has issues with self-calming and ocd, this whole transgender thing, this condition, is even harder on her than on a child who is able to ‘take a breath’…to let this ‘wrong part’ not be an overwhelming thorn in the side,  one who is at least capable of  avoiding a melt-down when the unavoidable pop-ups (erections) occur.

yes,…it hurts us as parents when we must stand by, with nothing whatsoever that we can do to alleviate our children’s suffering…it hurts…and i don’t know what to do for me.  for the frustration i have that time doesn’t go faster, that i can’t wave a magick wand and change her into the girl she is. i don’t know what to do for me, to make me okay with the pain i see her going through every day.

if only i didn’t love her…

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6 thoughts on “if only i didn’t love her

  1. I feel what you’re saying in a varied degree… where your child is she, my child is he. However, my son is nearly 17 and only just begun his journey toward outward expression. What a challenge it has been. He’s been met with such reservation to fully embrace his beauty… not due to lack of support or solid foundation, he is abundant in these… but because of his concern for his younger sister and how embracing himself authentically may affect her. The frustrations of parenting can render exhaustion on any given day. Though, the challenges increase when blessed with a transgendered child and their copious sensitivities and exceptionalities. Sometimes, what we can do for ourselves, besides finding time for respite and renewal, is to offer support through friendship and share the journey because… we love them and connection is a gift of well-being. Blessings to both of you. You’re in my prayers.

    • ah! how wonderful! you used the ‘b’ word in describing these special sons and daughters! it is so true that this is what they are! before i adopted ziona, i just barely knew what autism was. now it feels as tho i’m proficient in it…research, relearnings, revisions…all in the way i think…all because of her.

      then the whole gender issue thing. altho a bi-sexual and long-time member of the lgbt community, one who has transgender adult friends, some of whom i’ve dated, until ziona i was blissfully ignorant of the fact that children can know they are transgender from an early age.

      because of her pain and need, more research, more revisions, more knowledge…all because of her!

      it seems to me that we do not raise our children, rather they raise us!

      thanks for the read and leaving a kind comment

  2. I see it as nothing other than a blessing. What a miraculous mission they have been blessed with. To change an ingrained perception is quite a feat to behold. Courageous seems inadequate a word. I always knew within myself that there was ‘something’ about my child. The day he was born, I distinctly remember asking, “What is it?!”… and I heard a resounding, “It’s a girl!”… confounded, I replied, “Are you sure?” Perhaps, it’s true what they say, “A mother always knows.”

    Since kindergarten I saw and felt the struggle within him. He has always had difficulty with verbal expression, but in outward appearance stood firmly in his preference. The struggle within has eased and lightened since birthing his news. He smiles more now and his confidence is budding. I’ll never forget that day… I had never felt more proud as a parent and so deeply touched, that he came to me.

    I can understand the ‘revisions’ you speak of. Many of the learnings for me, gave credence to the way I see and feel the world; beyond the casings. I’m quite adverse to ‘labels’… though, I do understand that they offer to ground an understanding. So yes, the gender issue can be trying. The ‘boxes’ are ever present… always shouting, “Pick one!” My son often asks me, “Why do they put these boxes?” And I always reply, “I don’t know? Maybe one day that will change.” I believe it will.

    Unlike yourself, we’ve only just wet our feet in the LGBT community. The wealth of information and connections has been incredible for both of us. Beautiful foundations, friendships and support have been built and continue to flourish. So grateful for all of it and for each heart that welcomed us. It’s been overwhelming at times, the revelations abound and the journey with my son will be walked hand in hand.

    “it seems to me that we do not raise our children, rather they raise us!”… so very true.

    Blessings.

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