Girl Boys and Boy Girls
M. and I recently ran into a friend who I will call Heidi the Hippy. Heidi has a son, Hippy Spawn. We were sitting on the grass at a local park, watching the kids play when Heidi called little Hippy Spawn over to her and I realized that the girl I'd been watching playing, the one wearing spandex pants and a sparkling halter top with long, golden locks, was not a girl after all.
HS is five. M. and I were discussing on the way home that it was not Heidi imposing some sort of gender bender dress code, but a choice that HS made himself.
I've always striven to be honest here, so I'll say it. It scares me that I could have a transgendered child. Finn is my boy and it scares me that maybe one day he'll decide to be Fiona. Partly because I don't want it for me and mostly because I don't want my baby to have one more thing in life to deal with.
I think about this. About Finn not being comfortable in his skin, about M. and I dealing with having an entirely different child than we ever expected, about how our families would react and the judgement that would be brought down on us. Because no matter my discomfort, if that is who Finn is, it's our job to support him in becoming the most functional person he possibly can be. Even if it's not who I want him to be and even if it scares me.