A few years ago, just before the pandemic halted travel/changed the ease of international travel, I was sitting at a coffee shop with two of my children. My transgender son (recently emerged) and one of his older brothers. The transgender son wanted to talk about the email that he sent to me and his father at the beginning of his Fall semester of college revealing the preferred pronouns he wanted us to use, the need to hear our support, and other things that he felt he was not getting from us as parents. Here’s the thing… every person in every situation percieves and possibly even hears the same words differently. My husband and I thought we had been very clear, we loved and supported this decision. Being the way that we are (scientists with no need for glorification), we thought that was enough. In our minds it would have been enough for us. We were wrong. It took me two full years, a global pandemic, and a second child revealing their transgender self to get me to realize that I would need to say “we love you, we support you” as much as the son needed it. We do not have this child on our insurance, this child has not applied for medicaid or affordable health care and so the lack of mental and physical healthcare has hindered the transformation process. Also, the stage of life (college student) has hindered this, but they only saw this hinderance as non-support from the parents. This breaks my heart. My children think I (we) are supposed to help them find the way to pay for everything, but we are limited in our funds for such astronomical medical expenses.

It is so weird sometimes how my mind goes in hundreds of directions. I thought staying home with my children while they were in school was the best decision I could make. Then trying to go back to work after nearly twenty years away from outside-the-home work revealed the negative impact of not working could have on getting a job. I have ZERO regrets and I am fortunate enough to be able to say that without hesitation. My years with my children were the best years of my life. I am currently finishing graduate school at 55 and am terrified I will not get a job to pay off the student loan debt incurred to obtain a doctorate degree, but I have no regrets of the experience of staying home wtih my children. Anyway, these two paragraphs have nothing to do with each other except to recognize this…

As parents, we tend to think that everything that our children do, say, decide, is a reflection of our parenting. It could be in a sense. Did we teach them to make decisions with critical, reflective work beforehand? Did we teach them to listen to the words and not inflect emotion unnecessarily before reacting? Did we teach them that home is always a safe place to talk, learn, share? Did we teach them that their presence in our life is vitally important to us and the family unit? Did we teach them that everyone matters? Did we teach them to accept others and themselves for who they are as human beings? I hope we did. But just like that second paragraph made its way into this blog about my kids, self creeps in and tries to take over. We are selfish sometimes. We blame ourselves for things that have nothing to do with us. The older brother that was sitting in that coffee shop two years ago said to me, “this has nothing to do with you, this is who he is” when speaking about his transgender brother. That taught me so much. I guess I always thought that a person who finally recognizes their true self would have internal struggles, but now I realize the internal struggle is likely lessening and the external struggles begin. I need to let my children know that it is my pleasure to help them with anything they need from me. I know that I am limited in some capacities because we are not abundantly wealthy, but I love my children (even though they are all adults now) and I will tell them as often as I can.