Finding Joy in My Son’s Name and Pronoun
Our oldest child, E, sat us down in the living room at the age of twelve to quietly say, “I think I’m trans.” I found out later that he told his maternal grandmother first, a lovely initial sharing of a weighty truth. And I’m grateful to her everyday that, when he asked her something like, “Would you still love me if I was trans?,” she immediately responded, “Yes!”
I don’t actually remember how I responded when the person I believed to be my only daughter shared this monumental truth with me, If I could replay the scene like a memory from a movie, I’m certain I’d cringe at my reaction. I know I asserted my unconditional love, but I was completely unprepared for this moment, with absolutely no idea what to say or do. In all of my years of parenting, I never even considered the “what to do when your child comes out as trans” scenario.
E is 19 now, a healthy, thriving adult figuring out college, young adulthood, and navigating life as a man. But I confess that I could not envision this future then. Honestly, I had no idea how to move forward in this new reality. I was the parent, but my life experiences, my knowledge, my understanding of the world, the resources around me, my religious background, and so much more made me feel unmoored and unprepared.
I found out later that E believed so fully in us as parents, he imagined we’d immediately embrace his true identity and know how to move forward. I ache each time I think of sweet E’s naïve, hopeful heart broken by our shocked, uncertain, bumbling reaction. While a part of me wishes I’d been the mom he imagined, I also try to give myself compassion and grace.
Our journey over the last seven years has been complicated, painful, beautiful, illuminating, infuriating, funny, heartbreaking, confusing – and filled with so much love. We’ve talked and talked again. Returned to old conversations and shared new revelations. Simply listened and accepted that we may not always understand. There’s been anger, fear, and deep hurt. Forgiveness of each other and ourselves. And we’ve journeyed together some, but we have unique, individual stories too.
I haven’t written about this publicly because E was a minor, I did not want to out him, and I feel protective of my family. But I also wish I could sit and talk to the me of seven years ago, listen, give her a hug, and tell her a few, beautiful truths that have brought me such peace and joy. So, I asked E if he would be okay with me writing about this and he gave his blessing.
What I wanted more than anything when our son came out as transgender was for someone to tell me exactly what to do and say. I wanted to know the right thing to do. I wanted to make no mistakes and protect my child. Unfortunately, this wasn’t possible. There is no one right thing to say or do. It’s complicated. It’s hard. It hurts. Not only is your child going through something significant, you are as parents, too. You will stumble and get it wrong along the way. Probably quite often.
As I navigated this new world of parenting a transgender kid, I soon discovered that my faith crisis turned out to be a gift. Freed from some of the rigid black and white beliefs of my youth and unconcerned with temple recommend questions, I could explore what it means to be transgender and learn about gender identity and gender expression with a more open mind and heart. I still struggled and I could write pages of articles about the grieving process, the compromises I’ve made, my mistakes, and the ways I’ve changed and grown over the years.
Our family got lucky in a way when our son discovered his true name – one that allowed us to continue a nickname I’d adopted. It made his birth name gender-neutral and hinted at his preferred name. This allowed a way out of committing to his preferred name without dead-naming him; a sort of in-between, not-so-bad. While I’ve used the nickname affectionately for years, I came to understand how much he needed to hear his full name and pronoun.
I don’t want to pretend this was easy. E and I have talked about how I needed to mourn my daughter; the name I so lovingly chose; the story I started writing about her life before she was born; my complicated grief around feeling that my child didn’t want to be like me; confusion around body acceptance; how this impacted my relationships with other people I love; and just how it changed reality for me.
Ultimately, though, what I really wanted more than anything was to love my child; to love him fully, uninhibited, wide-open, and loudly; to celebrate life with him. I wanted my son to live and believe his life was worth living. And there came a time when I thought I might lose him and I can barely breathe thinking about it.
After years of trying to do right by everyone I loved, I was exhausted; exhausted from wrestling over the complications of religion, politics, family dynamics, and mental health challenges. But I had this increasing feeling that I could let go of the things getting in the way of love. A quite, insistent voice told me that I didn’t need to be exhausted anymore. I could let go of the me-centered barriers remaining and allow love to lead me forward.
I finally found a new peace when I came to this understanding with God. I would love uninhibitedly; without fear, or grief, or compromise. I did not need to wrestle with it any longer, try to explain it, or worry about other people who are not yet ready. I could just open my heart and let myself love wholeheartedly without barriers.
This is what I discovered: Using someone’s preferred name and pronoun has been incredibly freeing for me. The expression on my son’s when face I looked him in the eye and said his name and pronoun for the first time was wondrous. From now on, I’ll never un-see the flinch each time he is mis-gendered or called the wrong name. Using his name and pronoun broke down some of the barriers between us and freed me from burdens I needed to let go of to begin moving forward. So much of life is this need to find self and purpose; to be seen and loved just as you are. For me, using my son’s name and pronoun has allowed me to say “I see you and I love you” in a way I could not otherwise.
I’m not oversimplifying or being clique when I say that the right thing to do is to love my son; the right things to say are his name, his pronoun, and “I love you.” The other stuff I used to worry over or carry with me didn’t magically disappear, but it doesn’t weigh me down in the same way. I feel true peace using my son’s name and pronouns. I don’t stumble over them or have to correct them in my head because I see him and I know him. I celebrate the beautiful life he is building and feel such gratitude that I get to be mom to such an amazing person!
Just the other day, E texted to tell me his legal name change officially came through. My heart soared and I felt genuine joy as I sent congratulations and exclamation points celebrating his “New Name Day!” I celebrated how much simpler this would make his life and what a monumental moment day this would always be for him. I cried tears of joy.
