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.