A Mother’s Story

One sunny day last summer, as I was sitting on my couch mindlessly scrolling through my phone, it rang loudly in my hand. The screen said Kaiser Hospital. I answered the phone apprehensively, and the voice on the other end said, "Hi, this is Kaiser Plastics. Is this Aiden?”¹ My stomach dropped, and my heart started to pound. The day I had been dreading for years finally arrived.   My 20-year-old, intelligent, sweet, funny, artistic daughter went behind our backs and scheduled the removal of her breasts. It turns out that Kaiser had accidentally called my phone number instead of hers and alerted us to her impending self-mutilation.

Our trans journey mimics the same trajectory of so many other PITT parents. During her childhood, my daughter was a stereotypical girly girl who loved to dress up, dance, play with make-up, and glitter. There was never any indication that she felt unhappy with being a girl until puberty hit. The first sign of any gender distress occurred one day when she was around 11 years old. She was wrestling with my husband, and he paused and told her he needed to be careful about how he wrestled with her now that she was getting older. She broke into tears, gestured to her newly developing body and lamented how she didn't want all "this" to happen to her. The realization that her body was changing was unbearable. She longed to remain a child.

To alleviate her existential gender angst, she turned to the internet and found her sanctuary online with the trans community. It turns out you don't have to grow up after all, and you can actually change your sex! After that, she pretty much followed the trans playbook. She cut her hair short, changed her name, wore a binder, and dreamed of the day she could start on "T" and have those horrible breasts removed!

During this time, shocked and bewildered, I researched all I could about trans ideology. I read all the books, watched the videos, and argued periodically with my daughter, but facts and logic don't reach the ideologically captured. I tried to persuade her to delay anything permanent until she reached the age of 25 when her brain would be fully developed. I hoped this tactic would give her the gift of time to outgrow her self-hatred, but as soon as she became an "adult," the pilgrimage to her self-destruction accelerated.   At age 19, she started using testosterone cream, and at age 20 she scheduled her double mastectomy.

The dreaded day of surgery arrived on September 11, 2023. My husband and I did not receive any information about her surgery location or time. My daughter's boyfriend was her accomplice. He drove her to the hospital and waited for the surgeon to cut away her perfectly healthy flesh. I anxiously texted the boyfriend throughout the day to see how she was. After over eight hours, the defilement was complete.

Finally, my daughter arrived home from the hospital. She entered our house dazed and hunched over with her boyfriend gently guiding her to her room. The realization that she had willfully mutilated her body with the help of "medical professionals" was unbearable. We lost the war. Our only hope now is that someday, she will awaken from her utopian gender fantasy and join the growing list of detransitioners.  

To cope with the enveloping melancholy of this time, I turned to music. I composed my song, The Storm, which encapsulates the heartache and powerlessness I felt to lose my daughter to the trans cult.  

Writing and playing this song gave me comfort. Perhaps it could give comfort to other PITT parents as well.

1. Not our daughter's real trans name, but she picked one just as manly.