The Loving Mom

Once upon a time, there was a loving mom. She lived in the Midwest with her husband (loving dad) and their two sons.

These loving parents did their best to give their sons a good childhood, filled with family and fun. Of course, it was not perfect. Because nothing is. There are always skinned knees and lost homework and eye rolling. But together they were a happy family. Their sons were healthy and strong.

But then day, out of the blue, one son said that something was wrong. Something inside. He said he was not who others thought he was. He was not male. He was female, actually.

Mom and Dad were concerned. They took him to the doctor, who suggested a psychologist. They were stunned when the psychologist, who agreed with their son, told them, “Well, yes, he needs to live his life as a woman. Even if it’s difficult. Even if it’s a mistake.”

Mom and Dad were terrified. But they were still loving. They acquiesced to what the psychologist said. They wanted to help their child, now a grown adult. At their son’s request, they helped pack all his things and move to the coast, which is where he said he needed to be. He said he was a woman now. His longtime girlfriend agreed (now she is a lesbian). He started taking estrogen. He stopped talking to his parents.

Years went by. Very long, very difficult years. Mom texted often. “Thinking of you” and “Miss you” Birthdays and the weather and family updates. No answer.

Mom kept it casual but she was very sad. She surrounded herself with family. Little nieces, nephews grew up and had children of their own. She was happy for all their good news and looked forward to seeing the new babies with their lopsided smiles, the toddlers with their too-loud voices. She was a loving mom who kept her sadness to herself. As time passed, nobody asked about her son anymore, except her own mom, who would lean in quietly when they were alone and say, “How’s he doing?”

From time to time, the son did return home. It was often unexpected and out of the blue. Now he looked more like a she, with long hair, pudgy cheeks, weight around the waist and fatty lumps in places they hadn’t been before. Sometimes they argued about names and pronouns. It was hard to see their son this way but she and her husband were just so happy to have him back, however briefly, before he returned to his life on the coast. They kept their worries locked inside. They were loving.

Ten years went by. Very long, very difficult years that whittled the contact between the son and his parents down to nearly nothing.

But then came something out of the blue. The parents heard from family friends that their son was not doing well. He was in hospital, struggling with his mood, his thoughts and feelings.

The parents reached out to their son. He answered, “Yes, it would be nice to see you.”

The parents were stunned. And frantic. They hopped in their car and headed for the coast. They drove almost non-stop.

As they got closer, farmlands turned to cityscapes. At one point, Mom blurted out, “I don’t know what’s going to happen when we get there. I don’t know which me is going to show up – Scared Mom? Or Resentful Mom? Angry Mom? Or Loving Mom?”

Her husband was puzzled. He said, gently, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He kept his eyes on the road.

Finally, they got to the hospital. After all that time, Loving Mom stepped up. She looked her son in the face, hugged him, and held him tight.

For the first time in those many years, he hugged her back.

He was quiet and tentative, but he said they should see each other more often. They all agreed. Then they said goodbye.

The loving parents made the long drive back home. In the car, Mom cried. She said, “I could die now, and it would be okay.”

Back at home, days later, Dad suddenly rushed into the backyard. He was crying as he said, “I texted him, days ago, but got no answer. What if I said something wrong when we saw him? What if he never speaks to us again?”

In all those long, lonely years, she had never seen her husband cry.

It was a false alarm. A few days later, their son answered.

Today, they are still keeping in touch. They still keep it casual. It would be nice to say that their son gave up his belief that he is a woman. But as PITT parents, we know these things are not so easy, especially when dealing with adult children.

Loving Mom is still thinking of that hug. For her, it told a truth: that her son loves her – like a brilliant light in the darkness, like a healing salve to the heart. Hers, but also his.

“For the first time in a long time, he allowed himself to feel our love,” Loving Mom says. “It took us across the bridge from a terrible anguish to an imperfect peace. We have our son back, kind of. We have a connection, kind of. It’s not everything we could wish for, but it’s something.”

Parents, stay hopeful.