A butterfly doesn’t reach its full beauty without first going through several stages of life. My child is becoming a butterfly.
March 4th, 2019, was his first appointment with his doctor. He asked me to go with him, and I was so happy he did. The week before, I had assembled a list of questions that I wanted to ask. I went to my family and allowed them to ask questions as well. By the time the morning of the doctor’s appointment arrived, I had a list of eleven questions I wanted to ask.
We arrived at the clinic.
They called us back to the room where we met the doctor. He came in and introduced himself. I immediately got a good feeling from him. However, I am one of those that always see the good in everyone when I first meet them, and that doesn’t always work out well for me. This time, it was dealing with my kid. I maintained my full-blown momma bear mode in my head. I remember thinking, “My kid is in your hands; you better know your shit.”
After the introductions, he started asking my son a few questions. I want to say I was fully present during this conversation between the two of them, but honestly, I wasn’t. The doctor was getting eyeballed by this crazy mother. I wanted to get a feel for him. If he was genuinely passionate about what he was doing and whether he cared for my kid, it often amazes me that superpowers that moms possess when it comes to their kids. My current power was x-ray ninja vision.
I was brought back to reality when he turned his attention to me. “Do you have any questions?” He asked.
“Do I have questions? Absolutely.” I declared as I pulled out my list of questions, thinking I was intimidating him with my preparation.
I wasn’t. As quickly as I was asking the first question, he was turning away from me. When he turned back toward me, he was holding papers. He handed them to me. They were a list of commonly asked questions about getting Testosterone for Transgender Clients.
What? This doctor had a plethora of momma bears he had dealt with in the past. That list covered ten of my questions.
I went through the questions and compared them to mine.
The only question that was not on his information sheet was this one: “What if we go through all this transition and it doesn’t make him happy with himself, what is the next step?” He answered that he would need to continue counseling to find the root cause of why he does not feel comfortable in his skin. The doctor asked my son if he had a counselor and he replied that he did.
Of all the things that are going to change through this, for me, this is the one that scares me the most. The only thing I’ve ever wanted for my children is to be happy. I’ve never been the parent who wants to tells their kids how to live their life. I don’t want my children living by society rules, because that is what is normal. I want them to be themselves, find their journey, to live their life on their terms, and be happy in their choices. Growing up, I felt judged. I never want my child to feel that way.
The visit was complete. The doctor had addressed all my concerns honestly and to the point, which I admired. We picked up his prescription at the pharmacy then went back to the clinic for instructions on how to administer the dosage.
Needles. The doctor did not get the memo that my kid does not like needles. The nurse removed the first dosage out of the box and the large needle that went with it. The look on my kid’s face. Priceless. Was he re-thinking his decision at this point? Probably, but he is my kid, and that means, once he has set his mind to something, he will go through with it.
The nurse was great. She carefully showed him how to administer the dosage and the best practices for doing so. The following week, the next dosage he would be doing on his own.
I watched this vial of medicine go into my child. Oddly, you would have thought this would have been the moment where I lost my shit. The last moment before the child, I gave birth to was going to change forever. I didn’t. As I looked at my child, there was nothing but happiness on his face. I had not seen him so happy since he was ten years old. All I felt was relief.
If you would like to read our journey from the beginning, you can start here: A Parent’s Story, Raising A LGBT Child
Do you want to know what those other ten questions were? Read: Top Ten Questions for Taking Testosterone
Peace & Love, Ela
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