With everything else going on in our lives, J’s transgenderism has been a non-contender in the contest to win my attention as of late. There hasn’t been much news to share about his transition, because nothing much has been changing. J is not on hormones yet, and with a couple exceptions we’ve come out to most of our family members and friends.
We came out to my doctor several weeks ago, and I guess that’s worth noting. J went with me to one of my prenatal appointments, and when Dr. K asked us if we had thought about what kind of birth control we will be using after JC is born, we brought it up as a giant ‘by the way.’ Dr. K is going to continue to be the person we go to as JC gets older, and she will eventually be witness to J’s name change and to our child calling both of his parents ‘Mom.’ Plus, apart from finances, J’s transgenderism and need to transition is probably one of the biggest factors influencing our family planning goals. It makes sense that she should know this thing about us.
Dr. K took the news about J’s transgenderism very well — which is to say, she was very matter-of-fact and displayed zero surprise or personal reaction to the news. She did later ask whether she should refer to J as my ‘husband’ or my ‘wife,’ which was nice, and which confirmed to me that we have found a good medical professional to be involved with our family in the long-term. I told her what we’ve been telling everybody who asks: At this point, J has not requested that we use feminine pronouns or titles. Later this year sometime he will change his name, and when that happens we will be switching over to feminine-everything.
J had another laser hair removal appointment last week, and there’s no doubt that his facial hair is very patchy now when it starts to grow in. It’s a bit like my dad’s beard, which was always a bit ragged and funny-looking. I tell J this and we laugh about it.
I’m glad J is doing this thing that is important to him. As regards the beard, I am not going to miss it all that much, although it was a lovely tri-color mix of blond, brown, and copper. J almost never grew it out and he has always hated the constant need to shave. I do sometimes feel a little sad and nostalgic when I look at his current patchy chin, but these feelings have less to do with the fact that the beard is disappearing and more to do with the fact that life involves changes — permanent ones.
I feel the same way when I look at the pictures we now have up on our walls at our new rental unit. We need to start incorporating some new photos of us into the mix, because the old photos, mostly showing J with short hair and none of them showing him in anything other than t-shirts and pants, are beginning to look outdated. I like J’s new hair; it suits him, and I enjoy styling it for him. I like his interest in feminine clothes; they suit him too, and we can dress up together. At the same time I look at old pictures of us, mostly photos from past hiking trips, with one or both of us posed together on a rock somewhere by a lake, and I feel a little sadness creeping in. I liked that old J too. He’s still here, just as I am still here despite the fluctuating length of my own hair and the increasing size of my pregnant waistline. What makes me sad is nothing more or less than the passage of time. I look at our old photos and see our early days together when so much of life was undefined: careers, responsibilities, pretty much everything. It was all in front of us and we were just happy to be in each other’s company, exploring the world together. We are still close, J and I, and I hope we will always be exploring the world together in one way or another. The trick is going to be hanging on to that closeness as our roles change and our responsibilities increase.