Moms, Interrupted.

How young is too young?

2020-10-29T20:21:00.002-07:00

This is about as close to a political post as I'll get; and I'm only doing it in reference to a question that came up at one of the town halls. A mother asked how this candidate would protect LGBTQ+ rights if he was elected. She was concerned because she has an 8-year-old child who is transgender. Let that sink in: 8 years old. What were you doing at 8 years old? I was probably listening to Rick Springfield and pondering the latest Judy Blume book (yes, I just dated myself).

Now before I go on, let me be clear about something. This post is not about shaming any parent who is struggling with these decisions. I've been a part of an online support group for parents of transgender kids and I have read some heart-wrenching posts of parents who just don't know what to do. They have underage kids (mostly teens) who are clearly unhappy and the parents are trying to decide how to help them. There is NO easy path on this journey and I won't judge any parent for decisions they feel were best for their family.

Now back to that town hall exchange. What really bothered me about it was the nonchalance with which it was discussed. When it comes to children, are we normalizing this? And is that healthy?

Unhealthy Expectations

2019-03-24T12:09:00.000-07:00

So, we've all heard about a certain college admissions scam. The one where parents bribed and lied and actually made up fake profiles to get their kids into desirable colleges. Pretty gross, right? And the worst part is not that my image of Lori Loughlin (Aunt Becky!) has forever been tarnished, but rather how she has hurt her daughters. Apparently, her daughters didn't even want to go to college (oh the irony), but it was something that their parents wanted desperately. If the news is to be believed, their parents wanted so badly for them to have that "college experience" that they were apparently willing to risk their careers, not to mention jail time.

The expectations they had for them (in this case, anyway) were so far from what the daughters wanted for themselves. Now, I don't know this family, so I'm playing arm-chair psychologist here. But it seems to me that the parents let their expectations blind them to reality. Maybe it was too hard for them to accept that their daughters didn't want to go to college? Maybe they dug in their heels, and simply wouldn't allow it to be any other way? I can only guess what made them do what they did.

But that got me thinking of the times I've let expectations get in the way of my emotional well-being. In the past, I've expected a lot of people. From spouses, parents, friends, co-workers, etc. and I've often been disappointed (just as I'm sure I've disappointed others). But the one person I've had the hardest time letting go of expectations of is my son. Because we were so much alike when he was growing up, I figured (expected?) that it would always be that way. I pictured us having all of these deep conversations about life, politics, and philosophy. That he would be interested in everything I was (hey, I didn't say my expectations were realistic!).

Instead, he hates talking politics (like, with a passion) and is into leading Dungeons and Dragons games (does that make him a Dungeon Master? I have no idea!). Unfortunately, that means that most of our conversations lately have been very awkward as we struggle to find something to talk about. It was during one of these recent conversations that I realized my expectations were not being met, and when I got off the phone I was angry. Really angry. In reality, the anger I was feeling was really hurt and disappointment at the realization that I was not going to have these expectations met.

Then I remembered that every major moment of growth has come from me letting go of unhealthy expectations. I also remembered how freeing it felt to give up certain expectations and just appreciate the person for who they are (good or bad).

So, that helps. And maybe picking up a copy of Dungeons and Dragons for Dummies would help, too.

Dear Kate...

2019-03-11T08:00:00.000-07:00

Took a big step today. I wrote a letter to my son and it was the first time I used his new name. I guess that's progress in the journey of acceptance, right?

Find your village

2019-02-21T06:26:00.000-08:00

One of the ways I see God walking with me in this journey is by the people He brings around me. Granted, I don't run into many parents in my situation in our local coffee shop, but I did find a social media group full of them. Parents going through the same experience. I read their posts and comments and realize they are feeling the same emotions as me. Struggling with the same conflicts.

And it's comforting.

Feeling alone when dealing with a traumatic event is the worst. But I am not alone. And you are not alone.

Here's just a sample of the healing words I get the privilege to read:

"I am at a loss. I guess I’m still processing everything and my own emotions as well."

"I go back and forth some days, wanting to hide my head."

"I don't have any answers, only wishes and prayers."

"Sometimes I don't know if I'm doing the right things. I know it's not about me."

...and then:

"I am blessed to have the opportunity to discuss this with Christian parents that understand exactly what I'm going through."

"Thank you so much for accepting me into your group. I have felt so isolated in this journey."

"I'm really new in this journey and not even sure yet what to ask. Just glad to know that there are others sharing the same story."

Empty-Nesting

2019-01-31T20:45:00.000-08:00

I had always been excited at the prospect of "launching" my kid into the world (be it college or whatever) to begin his life. I'd also heard all the stories about how freeing it would be. About how

photo credit: creativecommons.org

much time I'd have to myself and all the hobbies I would be able to do now that I didn't have school field trips and choir concerts and school plays to attend. It sounded pretty cool... until it wasn't.

During the month of his graduation, my kid informed me he would be moving a few hours away to live with his dad; a complete 180 degree turn from the plans we'd made together. So yes, I was shocked and very disappointed, but as he was turning 18, there wasn't much I could do.

So off he went. And there I was.

You know, one of the benefits of your kids leaving the nest is that you have more quiet time to reflect. It also happens to be one of the downsides. That summer was rough. My husband also happened to be working out of town, leaving me lots of time alone. I struggled with depression, and many days I would come home from work and cry to my dogs (and I swear they looked empathetic).

The hardest part is what nobody prepared me for: the crushing feeling that I just wasn't needed anymore. Nine months in my womb plus 18 years of feeding, nurturing, and protecting this person was just over. We're sorry ma'am, but your services are no longer needed. I didn't even get a severance check! That realization is painful. But it's also a lie. While we may not be needed in the same way as when our children were young, our adult children do need us. They need us to be OK. To be ok with letting them go to make a life of their own. It took me a while to get there, but I did.

It's not always easy, but the good news is that you will adjust. You will discover a new you - and new roles to fill. Believe it or not, after about a year went by, I found that I was enjoying having that extra time. It's now been almost 5 years and I actually tell people that I love being an empty-nester! Of course, I miss the old days from time to time (even the field trips), but I'm giving myself more of my time, which is something I never did.

Everyone deals with the situation differently, but I wish I had prepared myself for the potential depression beforehand. Do yourself a favor and find a book to help prepare you or speak to a counselor. There are also plenty of articles online with tips for coping like 5 Ways to Cope with Empty Nest Syndrome.

The Reality of Rett Syndrome

2019-01-20T15:00:00.000-08:00

Sharing a guest post by my friend, Lisa. Her daughter, Lily lives with Rett Syndrome, a very rare condition that predominantly affects girls. This mom & daughter duo are real fighters!

Have you participated in the Facebook challenge where you compare your first profile pic to your most current one? My first picture was of Lily and me. In this picture she was 3 months old. We spent a little over a month in Hawaii swimming and walking all over the island of Oahu. Life was sublime.

Little did I know then that our life was going to change in ways that I could not fathom. Lily was diagnosed with Rett Syndrome a severe neurological disorder that robs girls of their ability to walk, talk and have purposeful use of their hands along with a myriad of other challenges.

Lily has always been a fighter. We almost lost her when I had to be rushed in for an emergency C-section. She wasn’t breathing and was in the NIC ICU for the first few days of her life. Here we are 11 years later and she is still fighting! She’s strong. She’s so smart and she has come so far. She has fought for every ounce of mobility that she has. Countless hours of physical therapy, tears, tantrums and triumph!

This past year she accomplished walking independently in her walker, on a daily basis, the length of her school and back. Recently, however, Rett Syndrome has raised its ugly head again and her scoliosis has become severe, which is causing her pain when she walks. We're seeing a specialist. The battle continues but we won’t give up.

Lily works so hard. She inspires me, makes me laugh and blows me away with her patience, intelligence and abundance of love & true joy that she not only shares with me but to all of those around her. She is my hero, my teacher, my inspiration, my heart.

Hey guys, if you want to learn how you can support Lisa and Lily in the 2019 Disney Princess Half Marathon Race, click here. Let's fight for a cure!

The Joy of Decluttering the Mind

2019-01-15T07:30:00.000-08:00

Seems everyone is doing the Marie Kondo "Does it bring you joy?" method of decluttering. I read her book, The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up: The Japanese Art of Decluttering and Organizing a few years ago and managed to get rid of a ton of clothes (6 garbage bags' worth!). Full disclosure: I may or may not have kept up the habit of organizing my drawers and folding shirts in that cool Kondo way.

Back when I was a "perfect" mom - ha!

As I get older, I find I have to declutter my mind as well as my physical space. Decluttering my mind often comes in the form of doing away with the negative self-talk. I swear that we moms are the hardest on ourselves. When I'm having a bad day, that negative inner voice starts reminding me of all the mistakes I made as a mother; of all the times I was selfish, or lost my cool, or didn't live up to my own expectations of being a perfect mother. If left unchecked, pretty soon my head is so full of the negative that there's no room for anything else. Since my kid is grown and out of the house, you'd think these thoughts would be no more, right? Wrong! In fact, some days they are worse than when he was little.

As I was reading articles about fighting the negative self-talk, I came across this suggestion:

Determine your strengths as a mother and reflect on them often.

I love this because we all have our strengths as moms, but sometimes we need to remind ourselves. I'm going to write this list of strengths this week (things I did well then and now). I challenge you to do the same!

If you're the praying kind... never stop.

2019-01-09T08:21:00.000-08:00

I recently came across an item I purchased at a thrift store a few years ago. It was a small, antique-looking picture frame with with a saying on it that I liked. For some reason, today, I thought I would look at the back of the print to see if there was a date on it. As I was carefully prying off the cardboard & nails (this was clearly not a frame picked up at Michael's), I noticed some handwriting on the back of the print. It was a card written to a mother from a daughter, dated on a Friday the 19th in the year 1960. In the note, the daughter says she is enjoying some morning quiet time with God and her coffee, while she looks out over the lake.

Here's just a portion of it:

I got to thinking of you and of the many, many years you had prayed for us and I just had to stop for a moment to say 'Bless you' and thank you so very much.

Of all the topics she could have been writing about, this happened to be about a mother praying for her children. What a needed reminder.

A Temporary Interruption

2019-01-07T07:00:00.000-08:00

I saw Tyler over Christmas (he lives in another state) and I knew I would cry when I did. Not only because I miss my kid, but because Tyler started the estrogen treatments last summer and I knew there might be some physical changes, as well as his wardrobe.

I'm not going to lie - I did ask him to warn me if he was going to present fully as a woman so I could prepare myself. He agreed and arrived in a tone-down version of Katie. It was so good to see him, but so extremely painful. I noticed some physical changes, as well as the way he was dressed (which was more feminine). The only thing worse than trying to hold in a cry, is trying to do it in a house full of people. I was at my dad's house, with my sister, niece, nephew, etc. We were just sitting down to eat, and I had to excuse myself to the bathroom to get myself together. Once the shock wore off, the rest of the day was great. If you look past the physical, he was the same kid we know and love.

Just the same, I've considered asking him to send me the occasional photo of him in full "Katie" mode so I can get used to it. He'll think I'm crazy, but what else is knew? :)

Author's note: Please know that I mean no offense to anyone by continuing to use the masculine pronouns when describing Tyler. To be honest, I'm just not ready yet, and I've discussed all this with Tyler. We've agreed that it's all part of the journey.

Mama Bears

2019-01-02T18:23:00.002-08:00

"A good mama bear knows when to growl and when to grin." - Nancy Jergins

No matter how old your kids get, the urge to be a mama bear doesn't go away. I've just learned how to control her better. For me, the trigger was always another kid making fun of Tyler. Yes, I know getting teased is a normal part of childhood, but it made me want to grab the kid by the collar and put the fear of God in him.

Even now, when Tyler is almost 23 years old, if someone makes fun of him transitioning to a woman (particularly with how he looks), I feel mama bear getting riled up. Now, that doesn't mean I act on it. For me, controlling mama bear is a part of the process of separating from your child and letting them become an adult.

Have you had any Mama Bear moments recently? The article linked below has some good tips, too!

Author's Note: Article quote was taken from How to Be a Good Mama Bear by Nancy Jergins.

What I'm Reading

2019-01-01T13:14:00.000-08:00

I'm currently listening to a book on Audible.com called Not Nice by Dr. Aziz Gazipura, Confidence Coach. I've been the classic people pleaser for as long as I can remember, and now at 47 years old I'm ready to change that! It's amazing how the desire to be seen as nice (and agreeable, non-confrontational) has really gotten in the way of me being my authentic self. I can already see that this desire to "be nice" has affected my role as wife, co-worker, daughter and mom - and not in a good way.

What books do you plan to read this year?

Mom, Interrupted.

2019-01-01T12:43:00.001-08:00

“Is there something you need to tell me?” He said, “Yes, I’m transgender.”

Those three words have changed my life forever. They also made things so clear. A distance had been growing between my son and I for a while. It started in May of 2014, when Tyler informed me that after graduation he was moving away to live near his dad, choosing not to attend a local community college as we had planned. The sudden decision (at least it appeared to be sudden) threw me for a loop and yes, I was mad. Why would he want to leave? I understood the desire to break away from your parents; having moved out myself when I was 19 years old. But we had made plans, and as far as I knew, he was good with them.

Over the next few years Tyler would come home for visits, but there was still a distance between us. I just couldn’t pin point it, and spent a lot of time trying to figure it out. I finally chalked it up to the normal maturing process of separating oneself from their parents.

During this time, I started to notice that his Facebook pages were filled with a variety of interesting posts – particularly in support of social justice and self-identity topics. He had always been one to stand up for those being bullied or feeling like they were outcasts (he still is and that’s one of the things I love about him). Eventually, the posts started to lean more heavily to the homosexual and transgender topics – so much so that I and others started to wonder if there wasn’t something he was trying to communicate.

One evening I was driving home from work and the wondering started again. But this time, I thought to myself Oh I don’t have the patience for this, I’ll just call him up and ask him what’s up! From the day he was born, I promised myself that I would always be honest with him and made sure he knew he could do the same with me. This was the perfect time to put it to the test, right? He answered the phone right away, and I said I had a question…based on his social media posts, was there something he needed to tell me? He said, “Yes, I’m trans.”

Now, I’m not sure what I expected to hear. What I wanted to hear was “No, mom, I just believe strongly in these issues and want to support my friends.” I had even prepared myself for a possible, “I’m gay.” But transgender? No. Absolutely not. In fact, I can say with 100% certainty that the thought never, ever crossed my mind. But as shocked as I was to hear it, I remained perfectly calm (a trait I’ve always been proud of. I’m definitely the person you want next to you during a zombie apocalypse). My calmness didn’t stop me from asking questions, though, like “What? Are you sure?” “What does that mean, exactly?” “Are you saying you want to be a woman??” Again, I give him credit because he answered all of my questions.

We ended the call with the usual I love you's and I drove the rest of the way home in shock. But after coming home and telling my husband the news (I guess making it real), I broke down in tears and cried the whole weekend.

That was almost a year ago, and during that time, I’ve experienced a range of emotions (and I’m sure will continue to do so). The first and foremost was shock and fear.

Every terrifying scenario for what Tyler’s life would be like ran through my head in quick succession (like a View Master toy at high speed). My heart was breaking – not for me, but for him. For what I thought this meant for him: everything from being treated as an outcast to some crazed person hurting him, or God forbid, killing him. I literally cried the entire weekend, fear and sadness consuming me. I even called my mom and cried to her (isn’t it crazy that no matter how old we get, when we’re in distress, we want our moms?). I threw one of only a few tantrums in my life, and this one was aimed at God. What good could possibly come from this news?

One emotion I didn’t expect was guilt. I was absolutely sure I had passed on something in my DNA that was causing Tyler this distress. It didn’t matter that there’s no way I would have known that or would have been able to do anything about it, the guilt was excruciating.

Anger is another doozy (which of course leads to more guilt). How could he do this to me? Didn’t he realize the hell he would be putting me through for the rest of my life? How selfish could he be?

But the most difficult emotion to deal with, and the most irrational, is the deep sadness that comes from mourning a loss. Worse than that, it’s a loss that hasn’t happened yet, but you know it is coming and you know you have no power to stop it. It often felt like a dark cloud that was following me wherever I went and threatening to burst open at any moment and envelop me in a downpour of grief. Why am I in mourning? It didn’t matter how many times I reminded myself that Tyler wasn’t dead, there was a profound sense of loss for what was. Loss of the baby, child, teenager and now adult that I raised, loved and had dreams for. This person that I, and others, knew as Tyler didn’t want to be that person anymore, and to hear that as a parent tears at your heart.

This journey is just beginning for Tyler (who began his hormone treatments just a couple weeks ago) and for me. But with much reflection and prayer, I’m now learning how to see Tyler (soon to be “Katie”) as an adult, and not just “my kid.” My fear is fading somewhat as I see the support he’s receiving from our family and friends, but it never really goes away. I will say that while fear, guilt, anger, and sadness still rear their ugly heads at times, God’s peace and assurance still outweigh them, and for that I’m most grateful.

Author's note: I originally wrote this piece in August 2018. Tyler is now six months into his hormone treatments.