[Ed. – She’s a professor of clinical mental health counseling yet. Where’s child’s protective service when you need them?]
So here we are, with two children, whom not that long ago I referred to as our “sons.” When our youngest, Waylon, finally communicated clearly to us what she was experiencing — that she was not in fact a boy but a girl, we were full of fear, but moved forward to support her in the best way we could. I had just come out to everyone in my life, revealing our story, and I was so blessed with the overwhelming warmth and response — even from those I did not expect.
I felt a little more unburdened, a little more settled, than I had before.
A few days later, I drove Waylon to school and she said as I pulled to a stop in the parking lot, “Mommy, I want a girl name.”
My heart dropped and the lump in my throat came back. “What?”