My side of the story; How I lost Jake

I don't care if anyone reads my story, it won't alter the past, affect the future or even stabilize my present. But when I am low, as I am at this very moment, I want my words to live somewhere, so that if it ever comes to pass that he should see them.... Jake will know he was so deeply loved that when he left that night in the dark out his bedroom window, he broke us. We will never be the same.

Jake was our third baby in three years. He was so easy going, quick to smile, sarcastically smart, made friends so easily and adored by his older brother and sister. He was a silly child, loved Lighting McQueen and Thomas trains, preferred to wear different colored Crocs, and had the most beautiful white blond "surfer" boy hair with big blue eyes and dimples.

Honestly, we don't know what happened. When I first encountered him with some of my undergarments, I thought it was a sexual teenage boy phase. Being a registered nurse myself, I didn't approach it from a place of shame, only explaining that my things were mine and we could sit down and discuss if he needed explanations on body changes. He was respectful and that was that. Until about six months later when I found he had a bag of girl’s clothes belonging to his sister and me. This was our first real red flag. His Dad and I sat him down to talk and eventually he said he wanted to be a girl. This was completely out of left field as he had never acted feminine or shown interest in feminine things. We offered to talk about his feelings and get his perspective. It just didn't make sense. to us.

Then he already was spouting transgender rhetoric that baffled us. Our degrees in Nursing and Psychology didn't prepare us for this blatant disregard of basic science. Over the next few days, we attempted to seek help and hit numerous walls when attempting to find counseling that wasn't affirming or even trying to congratulate us on our "newly awoken daughter". We finally discovered a ROGD support group and found a local psychologist for our son to speak with weekly. I gladly paid the out-of-pocket fees to give him an outlet and support system I knew I was lacking. He was still cherished and loved...we knew this was just a silly phase, after all, it didn't even make sense.... Jake isn't a girl.

He was 17 years old at this point. College acceptance letters were coming in. All his friend group was separating across the state. Jake, himself, got into SCAD (Savannah College of Art and Design). This was amazing, as he wanted to double major in graphic arts and English. His Dad and I prepared to sell our souls, plasma, and body parts to help him afford this opportunity. But Jake was withdrawing little by little from us. Looking back now, I think we had already lost our boy the day we sat down to talk.

Little odd things stood out. He was quick to anger, he would hide his phone and computer. He had one friend, Taylor, who he would bring up often in his defense. We were blind to the signs. Should we had been harsher? Taken away all his communication? It’s difficult to do when your kid is this age, and you work. Plus, we didn't want to doubt a kid who wasn't really a "bad" kid. He didn't smoke, drink, curse...heck, he rarely even drank soda. His grades seemed fine, he was eating and still spoke to us. He even would recap his day for me every evening. I thought we were good.

Graduation came. Jake was sullen and withdrawn. Even with all his family and friends there, he seemed to be trying. He had just turned 18 the week before and we thought we had made it! He was away from silly high schoolers. He would see the world is big and wonderful and life was just beginning! Two days later, around one in the morning, I got up to use the bathroom. His bedroom light was on, and I opened the door to turn it off. He was gone. His clothes, his bedding, his books and toys...gone. His window was open, and he had somehow evaded the front porch camera. The nightmares began.

Turns out, Taylor more than supported his ROGD, he actually facilitated Jake leaving home. He provided transport and a home for him to go to. His parents, Meghan and Kent, who we thought were our friends, suddenly announce they also support "those looking for their truth". Of course, they were too scared to actually admit Jake was in their home. Strangely, when we drove by their home, it was obvious they had moved from the address we knew without telling us. We panicked, not being able to find our child. They only had him call us when I involved the pastor of their church, beseeching someone to tell us he was safe.

Over the next couple of months, we learned that this family had relocated to another city. Our son was now sharing a room with their son and had plans to go to a budget college in state that they had helped him to apply for, including filling out the FAFSA. He didn't have his car or cell phone, and he was only communicating with his brother and friends. We also learned that these friends were more aware of the situation than we knew and that the family we saw as friends (we had helped them financially, with rides from school, with yard work just weeks before they sold their home), had been grooming Jake for almost a year. Both of their children were "different", their daughter even wanted to be a cat. I remember feeling so violated, so sick to my stomach, that two self-proclaimed "Christian" people would find their actions not only acceptable but laudable. I know what hate really is now. I don't know why God allowed this.

I tried to fight the school system; somebody somewhere saw something! After all, Meghan worked for the system...how is it okay for her to groom an underage child to fool his parents and set up a totally new future? They "found no liability." I tried the court system. Maybe I could have him declared incompetent? The appointed lawyer for Jake painted a picture of suppression of his feelings and wants, basically saying we were poor parents. I was the only one they bothered to bring to the stand. I pointed out that we were always fine with our boy feeling more feminine, clothes were only clothes. But if I took a blood sample from him at that very moment or found his bones in a field a decade from now, they would both confirm that he was undeniably male. And we loved him no matter what. It was his actions and choices that had us scared. The judge felt "my pain" but declared he was an adult and could do whatever he wanted. His new family was suspiciously absent. I couldn't get over how he didn't stand to hug me back, his teeth needed cleaning, and he was wearing men's clothing? I made it out of the courthouse and home before I threw up.

It's now been six months since I last saw my son. I get small updates through his brother. His friend, Taylor, isn't as content in their friendship any longer. He often drives home for the weekend leaving Jake behind. Jake doesn't seem to have much of an outlet and his school is in the mountains. He hates the cold. I send random Amazon gifts so I can add a love note. I make them too big for a mailbox, so they have to call him to pick it up, because I don't know his actual address. It's the only way I know to reach him. I remind him, through his brother, that he has asthma medication he can pick up from the pharmacy. I remind him of dentist and eye appointments, but he never goes. We've told him he still has car and health insurance, so he knows he is safe. His car gets regular checkups and his Dad will drive it to keep it running. He still has Christmas presents here. He didn't call on my birthday.

I haven't been well in a long time. I saw my doctor and got medicine. It doesn’t seem to help but, hey, I lost 20 pounds. I will admit that I think about just being done with life. I'm honestly tired. My husband and daughter want me to let him go. My son says he tells Jake that I love him, but he won’t let me speak directly to Jake or meet up with them if Jake happens to be in town. Nothing changes and the little boy in the pictures on my walls and on my phone keeps smiling. And a piece of me dies each day.