The final send off to an empty nest

I was debating for a while whether or not to write this chapter. 

When my child graduated high school, they decided to live with their father. After discussing the possibilities with them, they were determined that their father would provide for all of their needs better than my husband and I would. 

Despite our fair warning, a year has passed. They sent us an updated notification of their well-being. They are currently living with their paternal grandmother. They dropped out of the last semester due to lack of funds. They have found a retail job to keep up with their financial responsibilities. 

Even though we opened our door to them, they decided it would be difficult to adhere to the house rules. To be honest, it hasn't changed since the day they were born.

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House rule #1 Respect each household member's property, personal boundaries and privacy. 

House rule #2 Take responsibility in what you say and do. Mistakes happen. Learn from it.

House rule #3 Communicate with all household members especially when crisis occur. Having an open channel of communication builds trust, integrity and support within the household to become healthy and successful. 

House rule #4 Sit still and remain calm in a state of chaos. If you're angry, take a walk. If you're hurt, say something. If you're afraid, ring the desk bell or call for help. If there's an emergency, dial 911. 

House rule #5 Return all things where they belong. If any items become dirty, wash them and then return it to its original location. 

House rule #6 Keep all the rooms neat and tidy. All refuse and trash should be removed at the end of the day or when the trash bins are full.

House rule #7 Do not abuse or vandalize the household furnishings or utilities. Dining tables are not couches. Couches are not trash bins. Turn/Switch off the lights when not in use. Fill up the water reservoir when the water level is half full. 

House rule #8 When in doubt, ask questions. Never assume.

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Andreas and I tried to keep it as simple as we can. Andreas did most of the discipline. I was too authoritarian for Ananda. 

Ananda also updated us on their new identity. His new name is Ash. Since I couldn't get them to explain why they chose that name, I renewed their name to Ashkenaz. I'm glad they like it. I gave them the middle name I had planned to give to the baby I would have if they were born a male child. They liked it too. 

I wished them well in their future endeavor. I hope all things will work out for the best in their favor. 

I am actually surprised that I am enjoying my role as a sage. I rarely get a call or requests for visits. I do miss them from time to time. 

Above all else, I am very proud of them.

Adjusting with transition

 It was only 6 months ago when my child announced that they felt more masculine than they did feminine. With a sigh of relief, I no longer have to feel the guilt and pain I endured in silence for 18 years.

It was only 2 years ago when they left our household. It was nice to see them again when they got their vaccination. 

I remember when they hit puberty. They were not very happy. I can't blame them. It's difficult being a woman. Especially one who is of mixed ethnicity. 

I did my best to relate the struggles with them. I had always been labeled "half-breed," "worthless," "hopeless," or "useless" by the crass members of my family. I learned that sharing my experience with a teenager dealing with body dysmorphic disorder only caused more tension than relief. They're right. I wouldn't understand what it's like to feel trapped in a body you never meant to have.

I confessed to him my shame. I didn't use protection during copulation with their father. I contracted Chlamydia. His father denied having extra sexual affairs before consorting with me. Nevertheless, both of us had to take antibiotic. Another reason why my biological microbiomes were shot. It affected their pre-natal development in utero. They would have still been born if I had waited for their father to stop flirting around with other women.

During my 2nd Trimester, my obstetrician-gynecologist noticed he was developing rather slowly. She had to schedule weekly appointments with me to make sure he was developing without complications. My appetite was up, I was always bursting with energy. His father kept reminding me to slow down if I wanted our child to be healthy.

6 months pregnant

 As you can tell from this picture, I was carrying low. I later found out that it's because I'm a petite person. He was supposed to be due on May 7, but when March 31 came around, my water broke around 7 pm.

His father was working the night shift so his god-parents drove me to the hospital instead. My ob-gyn wasn't expecting me this early. She ran some vital signs.

The test results came back that his lungs were not fully developed yet. She told me to hang in there until she received approval to give me steroids shot for him. I was worried as to why anyone would prevent a woman's pregnancy from progressing. I prayed my heart out to God. I cried myself to sleep.

If I had been admitted in Brunei, the doctor would have taken care of the issue right away. There weren't any requirements for approval from an insurance company. Brunei is known for its free healthcare for its citizens. Even though permanent residents get to pay partial fees for healthcare services, the private health insurance pays the rest.

I waited for 3 hours for his father to come by my side. Instead, I was molested by a substitute ob-gyn, whom I reported later to my primary ob-gyn. Dr Frasier checked up on me to see if I was okay after that incident. I told her that the substitute doctor was creepy (He asked me if I enjoyed having his hand inside me) and needed his license taken away. She assured me that it would be taken care of. 

She took her calipers and gave a chirpy announcement, "Well, did you know that you were 10 centimeters dilated? How do you feel? Any pain yet?"

I was partially drowsy and awake. I mumbled, "No..." After 10 seconds, "Now that you've mentioned it, I am feeling a sharp pain. Ow..."

Dr Frasier took another sonogram. She came back with her crew and reported back that my child is ready. His lungs were almost developed. She asked if it was okay for her to put in some fluids for the lungs to fill up before I push. I gave my permission.

The nurse asked me if I wanted an epidural. I asked how painful the epidural was. She was amused by the question and showed me a medium sized syringe with an 8 cm needle saying, "This is an epidural. You won't feel a thing."

WHAT?!

I regretted my decision when I tried to push without the epidural. The nurse was right. I didn't feel a thing after I asked for the epidural. I couldn't feel my legs or any effort of muscles pushing. His father finally arrived. He barely helped. I wanted to faint. I was exhausted, and sleepy. I had to push.

After 2 hours of labor, our handsome baby was born. "It's a girl!"

I was too tired. I was in disbelief. I could have sworn it was going to be a boy. I was active. I was eating a lot of meat and vegetables. As long as I didn't over eat or sup before bed, I didn't get any morning sickness. Then I remembered the chlamydia. 

They didn't make the 50th percentile. They were 4 lbs 7 oz at 45 cm. Their father made a cruel joke of wanting to buy me a baby doll set since I gave birth to a baby doll.

I still couldn't feel my legs. The nurse had to massage my legs since his father refused to do so. When I was able to move around later in the evening, I massaged my legs instead. I wished I hadn't taken the epidural. My leg muscles never fully recovered from all that numbness.

The first 7 years living with his father was between a rock and a hard place. I wanted to be a stay-at-home mother until they were old enough to walk. However, his father decided to file as a conscientious objector. He was unemployed and a convalescent. I had to work, go to school and manage the household by my lonesome. 

My absence became their anxiety. I never knew that his father neglected their needs. When I won my custody battle, I had to visit them instead of becoming their custodian during the interim of my divorce. On March 8, 2009, I took them home with me. I was grateful that I had full custody. The following decade led to a lot of heartache, tension, strife, triumph, forgiveness and reconciliation.

My husband and I never treated them as a specific gender. Whatever they wanted to get that was non-gender specific, they earned it by following the rules. The only gender specific items we had to get them were the sanitary pads and feminine toiletries. We had to explain the chemical difference between a male and female body. Nevertheless, the tension regarding this matter worsened.

During their stay in our household, I've always reminded them that they will continue to be loved just the way they are. Their slothfulness and enmity towards the household rules were getting out of hand. Whether they realized it or not, we've always made sure that they were fed, had enough sleep, comforted during their struggles, encouraged during their trials, celebrated during their accomplishments; and best of all, included in all of our quality time together as a family.

My husband helped me build my communication skills. It was also helpful when I participated in self-help classes and continued my therapy with a different doctor.

Regardless of their in utero development issues, I've always known in my heart that they were meant to be where they are. I'm happy and proud for who they are. I'm glad that they are happy with their body as they should be.

All souls are part of God. They are neither male or female until God created them a body: male and female as mankind. For in humanity (enoshut), humankind (ben 'enosh) is born into the world. Our spirit is given to us when we are born. Whether we choose to acknowledge it, we will continue to struggle with Śūnyatā, envy, anger, pain, hatred, deception, delusions, depression, anxiety and slothfulness. 

As a bisexual cis woman, I have learned to be aware of how I communicate with my adopted transgender sister (they know who they are), a social media celebrity, and my recent rainbow child.

There will be a lot of bloopers and accidents along the way. Please be patient with me. I'll eventually exercise the proper etiquette in addressing all of you.

The Heart of Relationships

I had just finished the 1st chapter of "The Connected Parent," by Dr. Karyn Purvis and Lisa Qualls. I heard about this book when Pastor Steve Wiens interviewed Jim and Lynn Jackson regarding their Connected Families community service.

I enjoyed the podcast so much, I went to Jim and Lynn's website to pre-order the book. Unfortunately, I moved and it was either lost in transition or have been returned. I was looking frantically for my receipt hoping I could get a redelivery. I was 2 years too late when I found the receipt. I ordered from Amazon and it arrived within a few days.

The reason why I wanted to own this book was to help me understand where I need to explore my parental abilities to allow my child to respect me as I am. Now that my child is in her 20s, all I could do now is be a better mentor and guidance counselor.

I was in tears just reading Chapter 1. Every experience and method they shared in this chapter validated my struggles. My approach in getting StepUp Ministry involved was definitely the best choice and opportunity I was given at the time. I am grateful for their Youth program: Real World Strategies. I am very proud of my child's accomplishments.

I recall being ridiculed when I told my parents I had taken parenting classes when my child was born. I felt angry. Since children were present, I kept my silence. My parents never thought highly of me. It took my father 30 years to realize his mistake. We reconciled our relationship in 2009; a year before his death in 2010. 

I recalled every single memory. I realized my past was affecting my present. I assured my child every day - as much as possible - that I love them just the same. I admitted to my limitations and struggles as they watched me communicate with my own mother. I never intended for my child to hate my mother. My child does not have the complexity to understand why I would still love an abusive parent.

I only have one mother. A mother who used to love and care for me. Whatever happened along the way when we emigrated to Brunei, I knew it was not my fault. I became aware that she physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually abused me. I was only 6. I was used as a punching bag and a sexual specimen.

Going through the motions of reconnecting with my mother was a daunting task. Regardless of how much I instill my boundaries up front, she continues to violate them with menace. At some point in my life, I had to finally close the door. I grieved my loss of ever reconciling my relationship with my mother in August 2020. 

I never intended to hurt my child with them being affected with my internal battles. If it were not for my 2nd husband, they would have suffered more than the feeling of negligence. 

You see, when my maternal leave was up, I pleaded with their father that I couldn't go to school and be a mother at the same time. My absence was detrimental to their connection development as an infant. I remember them crying every time I went to work. I had always wondered why. After realizing what the reason was, I had to address it immediately. Instead of their father working through the struggles with me, they decided to retaliate with physical violence. I tried different ways to make the marriage work. In the end, the last straw was when they decided that threatening my life was their way out of the marriage. 

When I took off, they made sure that my child was completely abandoned by me. That was far from the truth. I had attempted to leave with my child once before, but they stopped me at the door. He ordered our child to go to their room. When it was clear, they grabbed me by the neck and threatened my life: if I even try to leave with his child. He added that they didn't care if our child witnessed him murdering me in front of them.

With Interact's help, my plan for safety took 1 year. Within 3 weeks, I won my legal case against him. The divorce was final and I gained custody of my child on March 8, 2009. On my birthday, my sister and 2nd husband, who was my fiancé at the time, surprised me with a plane ticket to visit California. It was relieving and painful at the same time. Being ridiculed for taking parenting classes was the least of my worries.

My mother continued to physically (sexual) and emotionally abuse me. I had to beg my child to lock the bathroom door when they had to use it. My fiancé tried to comfort me during our visit as much as he could. Such a brave soul. I thank God for him everyday. He assured my child that what I was asking of them was for their own safety. 

I have always been aware of my past. I never realized I had PTSD until I was diagnosed by the VA. I am grateful that they extended their program to me even though my PTSD wasn't combat related. I have completed their Self-care and Mindfulness well-being classes from 2012 - 2016. 

Even though I am able to manage my clinical Depression and PTSD, my chronic anxiety is still prominent. I realize it greatly affects my child. I try my best to not let it affect them. All I can do is continue being honest.

Even though I struggle to make sense with my parenting skills, I know I did the best I could with the resources I had at the time. It took a decade for the both of us, my child and I, to reconcile our differences. I cannot express how much they have matured to the person they are now. I'm enjoying every moment I spend time with them.

I wish I could say the same between my mother and I. Unfortunately, I had to do away with my fantasy and deal with the reality that this relationship was exactly as it was foretold 27 years ago. There are some battles you just can't win.