"It's hard to be me" - parenting and loving our gender fluid child

Becoming Cory - part one

2011-12-14T17:34:00.000-08:00

Two weeks ago we had a huge week. Cory transitioned at his high school from Anneke to Cory. To do this we met with the Vancouver Board of Education’s Diversity and Anti-Homophobia worker Maria, to map out a plan. (Yes we have such position in our school board, and I am deeply grateful for that.) She has been like our personal 100 pound purple haired pit-bull, clearly stating that Cory’s transition will proceed smoothly, or they will have to deal with her. I have only really met with Maria twice, but I guarantee I would not want to be on the wrong end of her in any way. Her office was a non-descript, stereotypical beaurocrats cubicle that she transformed into her own personal pride float – a huge Rainbow flag hanging above her desk tops it all off. From the first moment I spoke with her on the phone I knew we would be in good hands.

Next we met with Cory’s vice principle and school counsellor Dr. S and Ms. L. Ms. L is also the staff person for the school’s GSA (Gay Straight Alliance). Another thing I am hugely grateful for since I learned that some school boards are unsupportive of GSA’s in their schools. I had never met Dr. S. before our meeting but was amazed at his matter-of-fact, no bullshit way of approaching things.

The plan would be that Cory stay home from school for two days and a Dr. S. and Ms. L would go to each of his classes and explain that when s/he returned to school s/he would no longer be Anneke, he would be Cory. He would be using the male washrooms, using male pronouns and (most controversially) using the male change room in the Hockey Academy.

When we met Dr. S described the process of discussing Cory’s transition from female to male quite simply. He felt it would be a 5-8 minute conversation tops. With his thick South African accent and his non-nonsense attitude, he simply said, Cory is a young man in our school. We accept diversity; we accept Cory as a young man in our school and demand that everyone here at this school do the same. If they don’t like it they can leave. Period. Cory has told me, this is not a new speech for him and he frequently shows people the door or announces he has school transfer papers at the ready for any student who does not accept others and demonstrates respect and tolerance.

Wow. I was gobsmacked really. He made it sound so simple.

Cory nodded approvingly. Maria, Ms. L and I exchanged glances. Of course we all knew that it might not be so simple. Cory would be at risk of bullying, social isolation and/or physical violence. All of which have happened to other trans kids to varying degrees. I felt a bit like I was sending my kid into a lion’s den, and trusting virtual strangers to keep the lions at bay.
Luckily for us another brave boy forged the way in the Vancouver School board, and they had a template for what worked and what didn’t.
(You can read about Cormack here http://www2.macleans.ca/2011/08/12/when-boys-would -rather-not-be-boys\)

Well, last week Cory stayed home from school for two days and the classes were informed. A little primer was given on what it meant to be transgender, and then all of his classmates were informed that Anneke was transitioning and needed their support and understanding.

I cannot imagine what it would be like to know that my entire high school was talking about me. As a shy, self-conscious teenager, I know I would have rather crawled into a hole and died. The word ‘brave’ just doesn’t seem to cut it.
Cory said from the start of the process that he couldn’t think about the reaction too much. He is already prone to anxiety. It was a wise self-realization. It was something he was going to do no matter what. This was a part of becoming Cory - being himself. This was not a choice. It was part of the journey.

So I suppose, like pulling a Band-Aid off, or jumping in the pool, it was best to just do it. Transition done. No more roadblocks. No more cringing every time someone said she. The next day at school was a hockey day with ice time. Time for the boy’s dressing room in one of the most gendered sports ever known. Perhaps the down side of going stealth in Coquitlam would be he knows what a boy’s locker room is like when everyone is comfortable.

When I asked Cory what the worst reaction would be, he simply stated “It would be if they said nothing. If no one talks to me.” My heart sank. I knew it could happen. And it could happen not because people didn’t understand or didn’t want to be kind. It would be simply because people didn’t know what to say. Awkward silence. I didn’t want to elaborate on any of the bad reactions I had swirling around in my head. I just tried to be positive and supportive.

“It’s going to be fine” I said, “Remember, you haven’t changed really at all. You are the same person. Your friends will all know that.”

The next day Cory returned to school…...

Reaction to follow.

10 Things I Love about my Kids

2011-12-13T20:17:00.000-08:00

1. They are the empathetic and non-judgemental people…. The first ones to be friends with the new kid.

2. They will eat almost anything. I have never had a problem with picky eaters. It getting them not to eat that is the challenge.

3. They both enjoy watching and playing hockey. It has given them character and athleticism.

4. They laugh at my jokes. I think they are the only people who think I’m funny.

5. They understand my crazy job and my need for sleep, food and caffeine.

6. They know when I’m grumpy and when to get me sleep, food or caffeine…without me even asking. Good survival instincts if you ask me.

7. They haven’t inherited many of my body issues and walk around naked whenever possible. This applies mainly to Molly, who frequently reports “I am AWESOME!”

8. They are resilient and adaptive. This year has involved many huge life changes. They have both handled it with grace and humour.

9. They can fart and belch as though it were an Olympic sport.

10. They love me back.

Icing on the cake

2011-11-24T19:04:00.001-08:00

It's not only a huge accomplishment that Cory is playing boys hockey with the boys and excelling. The icing on the cake is when the team votes him most valuable player, awarding him the team helmet two games this month.
He was embarrassed when I took this photo but I could tell he was proud.

It's a boy!!!

2011-11-23T22:11:00.000-08:00

Well folks. After a long break from blogging, I am happy to report Anneke and I are back to writing. We have a lot of catching up to do, so hopefully the next few weeks will be full of updates that will string the past year together.

The biggest news.....A. has decided to transition to be male.
S/he struggled with this for a while. Being gender fluid for so long s/he really wanted to be considered female but be allowed to take testosterone and have the body he wants. Seems this is so off the grid, our endocrinologist would not approve.

A.'s new name is Cory. It suits him. It's a great name.
Funnily enough it was not on our shortlist of names when we were expecting him almost 15 years ago. Thank you to Cory Schnieder for the inspiration. ;)

The long break from blogging was at Cory's request as he figured out what he wanted to do. Seems the main consideration was hockey. Switching from girls hockey to boys hockey is no small feat. In doing so, he has made history and his dreams of playing in the NHL are alive and well.

Cory has been on testosterone now for 6 weeks. He has grown over 2 inches, his voice is changing, and he is even growing a bit of a movember stach.

I have a son .... an amazing, brave, wonderful son, who is an inspiration and promises to change the world.

Meet Adam

2010-05-25T10:41:00.000-07:00

This past weekend we went to Bellingham to go shopping. Much to Molly's delight the mall we went to contained a Build-a-Bear workshop. For those of you not in the know, Build-a-Bear is heaven for any girl (or boy) who would like to pick, stuff, then dress their own personal bear. You get a little heart, which you warm with your own love, then place it in your bear before you stuff it. Then you shop for outfits and accesssories. Needless to say, Molly loves Build-a-Bear. I have lost count how many bears she has.

Once you 'build' your bear you get to shop for outfits and accessories, then register you new bear in the computer, where a birth certificate is created. To off-set the perceived unfairness of Anneke getting a new suit, and me some new clothes, I permitted Molly to go a bit crazy with new outfits for her bears.

At the checkout we learned that the clothes would be 20% off if we purchased a new bear. Not my plan, but ok. Molly picked a "boy" bear and named him Adam.
As we were waiting in the couch area for Anneke to pick up her suit she began to admire her new outfits and dress her new bear.

"Look mommy, does this look nice?" she showed me the above bikini clad bear.
"That's a bikini. It looks pretty, but I thought you wanted Adam to be a boy bear?"
"He is a boy, mom, he's trans-gendered. He likes to wear girls clothes. Does he look pretty? Do you like it?"
"Looks great sweetie, can I take a picture?" Secretly tickeled by how gender-bending my youngest child has become.
"Sure, why?"
"I don't know, I just think its cute you have a transgendered bear."
"Ok" she shrugged, and proceeded to try on all her new outfits on Adam, likely "Build-a-bear"'s first transgendered bear.

More of our journey...

2010-05-19T10:57:00.000-07:00

I know the key to a 'good' blog is to post regularly. My apologies for not posting of late. Interestingly there has been much to report in the life of Anneke, and I will endeavor to update in stages. As always, I check with Anneke first before I share.

Let's see - on May 6th we went to see Dr. Metzger Anneke's pediatric endocrinologist to check her hormone levels (to ensure the blockers are working) and chat about where s/he is at. At this visit Anneke wanted to talk about starting testosterone.
You'll have to tune into a future post for then details of that discussion. Suspense!

Last Friday we met with Dr. Melady Preece a renowned physiologist specializing in gender identity issues. We had been meeting with a psychiatrist off and on but Anneke didn't 'click' with him and his office was a bit hard for us to access. Dr. Preece and Anneke had met several times at the Gender Spectrum Families conference and instantly got along well. It was helpful that she had an office dog - Anneke loves animals.

Well that appointment too, deserves a post all to itself. Melady was wonderful at cutting to the chase and asking Anneke some pretty challenging quesitons about her gender identity. The not so suprising discovery is that it is really hard to be gender-fluid in our world with very binary views of gender. Anneke has asked repeatedly, why can't I be a girl and take testosterone. Melady's answer was basically, you can, but it will be very hard for the rest of the world to understand - and it would end your girls hockey career. Needless to say, we will not be starting testosterone any time soon. Anneke is disappointed - but hockey is far too important to her to sacrifice.

On another note, today is my 42nd birthday. I am normally quite melancholy around my birthday, but this year is much better. Birthdays often remind me of things I had hoped to achieve by my 30's, now 40's and have not yet achieved. I can be very hard on myself. This year has been one of the most difficult years of my life for many reasons and this birthday is a celebration of enduring that with myself and my kids intact. I like myself in my 40's more that I ever did in my 30's. I used to focus on more superficial accomplishments like number of friends, money in the bank, body changes etc.. but those no longer resonate as the key to a happy life. I have found my path as a mom, a friend and a midwife. As corny as it sounds, I have come to realized a happy life is really not about getting to the destination, it is about truly enjoying the journey. The picture above is one of our favourite places. The girls and I go regularly to Trout Lake near our house and walk the dog. We sit on log, watch the dogs play and watch the sunset. Today I celebrate my journey.

10 Random things about Anneke

2010-05-05T20:39:00.000-07:00

1. Anneke reports to me s/he is always picked first for gym and sports - a completely foreign concept to me.

2. Anneke wears a size 10.5 men's shoe - good thing s/he doesn't like heels.

3. S/he loves animals and babies.

4. S/he got kicked out of the YMCA swimming pool at age 5 for not wearing a shirt with her swim trunks.

5. S/he got highlights yesterday, and officially looks cool.

6. In most public spaces s/he uses the men's washroom.

7. Her favourite teacher ever was a M-F transwoman - Miss Wesley.

8. S/he gets extremely homesick when away from her mommy - even now.

9. Her first words were "Hup, Holland" as she was home with Ben watching the world cup in 1998.

10. S/he is happiest when playing hockey.

Love and marriage

2010-05-01T19:20:00.000-07:00

Last weekend Molly, Anneke and I went to Bellingham, Washington to visit friends and pick up my doppler that our dog Zoe chewed to pieces. It was a fun trip. With the dollar at par, and me 25 pounds lighter than the last time we visited, we took the opportunity to do some shopping.

With Anneke's elementary school graduation ceremony and party coming up we were also on a quest for a nice suit. Anneke has wanted a suit since she was about two and a half years old. She has several nice shirts and ties but no suit. By contrast, Ben Anneke's dad does not own a suit (or a nice shirt or tie) nor will he ever. He is a T-shirt and jeans kind of guy, and had been since the day we met over 17 years ago. He even had to borrow a suit for my mom's funeral.

I will be sure to post pictures soon of her new tailored suit. We got two. It was the cutest thing watching her get fitted and admiring herself in the mirror. "I look good." s/he said, with her fathers' lack of modesty. "You look great," I affirmed.

Needless to say, the suit buying procedure tried Miss Molly's patience. As she sat in the suit store, she parked herself near the tuxedo rental area. This started a familiar discussion in our household.

"Why aren't you and daddy married? You really should get married."
"Maybe we will one day." I reply.
I gave up long ago trying to explain why I do not feel the need for my relationship to be affirmed by either the church or the state. Nor do I go into my feelings about how marriage has turned into a mega-consumerist industry, that no longer resembles any ceremony I imagine for myself.

"You should get married now," she insists "you could wear a pretty dress, and daddy can rent one of these tuxedos."
"It costs a lot of money to get married." I say, trying a different approach.
"But you have kids!" she adds "you really should get married.
I no more understand my youngest daughters' "traditional family values" any more than I understand my oldest daughters' desire for a tailored suit.

As I look into her pleading green eyes, I start to contemplate the idea of getting married, to please my children. For years I knew it couldn't happen since my own divorced parents could not be in the same room together without potentially causing a scene. Since my mom passed away 7 years ago, this is no longer a valid deterrent.

Anneke decides to weigh in on this discussion. "I don't think you should get married. You should find a new man, someone better, maybe younger, with a good job." At this point s/he sounds like my mother, which by and large is not a good thing.

"I have thought of trading him in for a younger model" I joke, as Ben is 11 years older than me, and only lately starting to show his age.

What I have realized over the years is, while I am a hopeless romantic and foolish optimist with regard to most things, this is not true of relationships, love and marriage. I would love to think a fairy tale love exists and lasts forever, but sadly I don't. I actually think one should look at relationships like a renewable contract that you evaluate, say, every 5 years. Would I have "renewed" my relationship with Ben over the years? - yes. Will I continue to? - we shall see.
Do I have a little girls' dream of picking out a wedding dress? - yes, it pains my feminist heart to admit. Will I ever get married? - not likely.

I do know, however, if I ever do - Anneke will look great in her suit.

So many wonderful kids...

2010-04-27T20:13:00.000-07:00

Feeling sad and blessed

2010-04-08T23:19:00.000-07:00

Despite my wish to write more this week isn't working out to be a prolific week to write. It has, so far, been a very sad time for me at work. As many of you who follow this blog know, I am a midwife in Canada. Most of my job involves guiding families through the journey of pregnancy and the wonder of birth, and the joys of their newborn baby. Yesterday in my office I tragically diagnosed an 'intra-uterine demise." Often called a stillbirth. They were due in just a few days. I have been at the hosptial tonight, helping to induce labour for a baby that has died. It is one of the most sad and awful parts of my job, I hope no one is ever touched by such sadness.

Each time this happens (sadly this is not the first time.) I come home and squeeze my kids until they hurt. Many people comment that Anneke is lucky to have parents like Ben and I. While that may be true, we are lucky to have kids like Anneke and Molly. They light up my life in a way that defies explanation.

I occasionally encounter parents who do not understand and unconditionally love their trans-gendered child. On days like today, I have no patience for parents who do not appreciate the healthy loving child before them. "Do you know how lucky you are?" I want to scream. "Who cares what they want to wear, of what they want you to call them? This is your child!" They see their child as imperfect and in need of "fixing." If you truly knew how fragile life can be, and how sad you are making your child by not fully accepting and loving them, you would never want to change a thing.

Molly

2010-04-03T21:37:00.001-07:00

We interrupt the regular serious content of this blog to adore the irrepressible Molly. Anneke's sparkly sister. Anyone who know her will agree, these pictures capture some of her spark. She now refers to A. as her brother in most public spaces.

Molly is living proof that kids 'get it' far more than adults.
"What do you think of girls like Anneke wanting to be like boys?"
Molly "People should be whatever they want."
"What about boys that want to be girls?"
"I like them too! They wear nice dresses, make-up and high heeled shoes. Why don't you wear make-up high heels mommy, then I could wear it too."
Nuf said.

Decisions, decisions

2010-03-31T22:43:00.000-07:00

If you watched the footage from the Dr. Oz show in the previous post there is a theme you will notice. It is a theme I notice in my life when I tell people about Anneke's journey, blockers and the many other choices we make on behalf of our kids. "Are you sure you are doing the right thing?" or "Don't you think giving your child a drug to stop puberty is extreme?"

There are two things I know for sure.
1. As a parent, you never know with certainty you are making the right choice for your child. You have to trust your instincts and listen to your child.

2. Doing nothing, when it comes to big decisions like blockers and surgery is making a decision for your child.

Since the age of 6 Anneke had suffered from migraines and extreme stomach pains. S/he has had head CT's, ultrasounds, X-rays and countless days of missed school. When signs of female development began, all of these things got worse and a deepening depression ensued.

The universe takes care of us, I beleive. When I confided in my student at the time she had told me she had just recently attended a trans-health conference and heard a talk by Dr. Metzger, a pediatric endocrinologist who helped gender-variant kids stop puberty. When I told Anneke about this s/he jumped at the chance without hesitation. Dr. Metzger has been a gift to us. Since starting blockers Anneke has not had any more migraines, stomach pains or missed school.

I hesitated to get in touch with him at first. When I reached out to medical professionals, when Anneke was about 4 or 5 we met Dr. Zucker. He is a world renowned specialist in 'Gender Identity Disorder', especially with respect to children and adolescence. When he realized Anneke indeed fit the diagnostic criteria for GID, he wanted to enrol her in a study

The following is a summary I found on line
Dr. Kenneth Zucker, a psychologist and head of the gender-identity service at the Center for Addiction and Mental Health in Toronto, disagrees with the “free to be” approach with young children and cross-dressing in public. Over the past 30 years, Dr. Zucker has treated about 500 preadolescent gender-variant children. In his studies, 80 percent grow out of the behavior, but 15 percent to 20 percent continue to be distressed about their gender and may ultimately change their sex.
Dr. Zucker tries to “help these kids be more content in their biological gender” until they are older and can determine their sexual identity — accomplished, he said, by encouraging same-sex friendships and activities like board games that move beyond
Zucker thinks that an important goal of treatment is to help the children accept their birth sex and to avoid becoming transsexual. His experience has convinced him that if a boy with GID becomes an adolescent with GID, the chances that he will become an adult with GID and seek a sex change are much higher. And he thinks that the kind of therapy he practices helps reduce this risk. Zucker emphasizes a three-pronged treatment approach for boys with GID. First, he thinks that family dynamics play a large role in childhood GID—not necessarily in the origins of cross-gendered behavior, but in their persistence. It is the disordered and chaotic family, according to Zucker, that can’t get its act together to present a consistent and sensible reaction to the child, which would be something like the following: “We love you, but you are a boy, not a girl. Wishing to be a girl will only make you unhappy in the long run, and pretending to be a girl will only make your life around others harder.” So the first prong of Zucker’s approach is family therapy. Whatever conflicts or issues that parents have that prevent them from uniting to help their child must be addressed.

Once we realized this was Dr. Zuckers' approach we ran for the hills. He basically wanted to enrol Anneke (and our whole family) in behavioural modifcation therapy. When I confided in my friend Christine that I didn't know what to do about Anneke's kindergarden depression, and the interaction with Dr. Zucker, she asked simply "What do you want to do?"
"I want to take her out of this school that she hates, and surround her with people that love and support her, no matter what - not people that want to change her."
"Then that is what we will do." she said with a certainty that I yearned for. As we walked up to the school Anneke attended at the time.
I took Anneke out of that school that week. I begged the YMCA where s/he went to preschool to accept her in their kindergarden program, which they did. And I never returned Dr. Zucker's phone calls. As you can imagine, these were obviously big decisions. I had no idea if they were the right ones.

I now know they were some of the best decisions I have ever made.

Dr. Oz

2010-03-28T06:12:00.000-07:00

I am normally quite wary of talk-shows and their sensationalist approach to these subjects. I was pleasantly suprised watching this. Check out Josie's face when the psychologist refers to her as a little girl - how wonderful!

Parenting a Transgender Child: Tips for Parents of Children With Gender Dysphoria

2010-03-24T14:55:00.000-07:00

Parenting a Transgender Child: Tips for Parents of Children With Gender Dysphoria

So, in case you need any translation or summary;

1. Don't try to change your child.
2. Love and embrace your childs' gender identity and expression.
3. Protect your child those who will not do 1 and 2
4. If you can do 1 through 3 you are a great parent.

Bumper stickers and God

2010-03-24T12:33:00.000-07:00

I saw a bumper sticker this week and laughed aloud in my car.

"Sorry I haven't been to church lately, but I've been too busy practicing witchcraft and becoming a lesbian." Ok, sorry if you are offended, but I find it hilarious. I am accused of being a witch and a lesbian on a daily basis, and consider it to be a point of pride.

With regard to being a witch, midwives have often been accused of being witches - and burned at the stake as a result - we knew about herbs, nature and women's bodies. While I don't claim to know much about the Wicca ways, I know about herbs, birth and women's bodies. Most days I know which phase of the moon we are in. I do not find being 'accused' of being a witch a terrible thing.

So, when Molly asked one day. "Why don't we go to church?" Ben and I looked at each other and struggled for an answer. Anneke jumped in and said, "I don't think we'd fit in in church. I went to church once with Opa, and it was really boring."

Phew - off the hook - or so I thought.

"But if we don't go to church, God won't like us and we won't go to heaven."
Anneke "I don't think God would like us anyway. Mom and dad aren't married and I am ... well ... trans."

Molly "But God loves us all."

I don't know what I was shocked about about more. My youngest daughters' apparent religious furvor, or my oldest referring to her/himself as trans. No question the religiousness. This all led to a rather awkward conversation about religion and why we aren't huge fans of organized religion, but have no particular problem with God. Molly seemed to process this in her 8 year old brain.

Anneke jumped in, by saying "I heard that God and religious people don't like gay people." Ok, I think this is why we don't have family dinners - this is a challenging conversation.
"I'm not sure I believe in God, sweetie, but if I did it would be God that loved everyone, no matter who they loved, or who they were.'
Ben "I think God is a lesbian anyway." Nobody but me sees the humour in this.

Suddenly I feel like watching Monty Pythons' the Life of Brian...and becoming a lesbian.

Zoe

2010-03-22T21:19:00.000-07:00

Parents of younger gender variant children often ask me about many issues related to raising a gender non-conforming child. I have no greater wisdom than any other parent, but I do offer wisdom learned from the trial and error parenting we have stumbled through over the past 13 years.

One of the best decisions we ever made was to get Anneke a puppy for her 9th birthday. Her name is Zoe. She is a labradoodle - an yes that is an actual breed of dog. Animals don't care what you wear, or how you express you gender. They love...unconditionally. When Anneke got Zoe s/he needed that love more than ever. As you can see from this picture, her dog makes her happy even on the darkest loneliest days.

Matt and Dr. Metzger

2010-03-22T00:01:00.000-07:00

Every 6 months or so we see our hero, Dr. Metzger - Anneke's pediatric endocrinologist at BC Children's Hospital. At every visit he asks Anneke which pronoun s/he would like to be referred to as and which name s/he is going by these days. To date, is has been 'she' and Anneke. Recently, however, while A. was searching for Cannucks tickets on Craigslist, s/he was using the male name s/he likes - Matt. When Ben came home from work, s/he told him "Someone might phone for Matt, that's me." Without skipping a beat, he said, I know. Good answer. We now use the name Matt occasionally when we are out. Molly is routinely referring to A. as her brother in public spaces. A. insists it is simply to save others from the confusion and embarassement of mixing up and/or figuring out her gender. I'm not sure its as simple as that.

Every time we see Dr. Metzger s/he also goes for blood tests to ensure her hormone levels are stable ie: the blockers are working. When I asked if there is anything special s/he wanted to talk to Dr. M about this time, s/he said without hesitation - I want to ask him about 'T' - this is trans-speak for testosterone.
"Does that mean you want to talk to him about transtioning to male?" I asked.
"No, I want to still be a girl, I just want to start 'T'.
Anneke dreams of having muscles, height and a deeper voice. S/he is (for the moment) quite content to have these things and still be considered female.
I have learned that even many in the trans community don't quite understand this. Different thoughts flood through my head - what about gym class in high school, what about your reproductive organs? What about how male you will look?
The thing that strikes me however is how comfortable and confident A. is with this idea. This is truly the expression of her gender-fluidity. "Why do I have to decide?" s/he often says. "Why can't I just be the person I want to be?"

Why indeed.

Anneke and Opa

2010-03-14T23:56:00.000-07:00

Five facts about Opa (my dad)

1. He is one of the most patient men I have ever met in my life.
2. He plays golf, this picture was taken after he and A. played a round of golf.
3. He has funded A's hockey career from the beginning and is one of her biggest fans.
4. He is a Habs fan - a true French Canadian.
5. He loves A. unconditionally. I learned to be a great parent from him.

Date night

2010-03-13T21:31:00.000-08:00

So Anneke asked me the other day how old s/he had to be to go on a date. "Twenty", I say without skipping a beat. “Seriously mom,” s/he responds clearly not pleased with my answer. “Well,” I think, scrambling for a response, “I think it depends a bit on whether you date girls or boys.”
“Why?”
“Um, well, teenage boys are different that teenage girls.”
Anneke laughs, “All the boys in my class are retarded.”
“Those are not the exact words I would use but, yes I think you should wait a few more years to start dating.”
This is one of those parenting moments where I must seem like I know what I am talking about, but actually don’t have a clue. I am wracking my brain to remember if I was even attracted to people at age 13. Yes, I suppose, but generally too terrified to talk to anyone I was remotely attracted to. I seem to recall more feeling towards pop icons than boys my age.

It is truly a wonder I have actually mated and had children.

“Do you think you have the courage ask someone out?” I ask secretly hoping this ends the whole is discussion.
“Yeah, sure, why not?”
Ok, so s/he is attracted to people and confident about asking them out. Definitely unfamiliar territory for me. “Maybe you should talk to your dad he has a lot more dating experience than I do.”
“No, dad is too old.”
“Just because he is older doesn’t mean he doesn’t know anything.”
A dismissive shrug says it all. A. is going through a phase (at least I hope it is a phase) where s/he doesn’t think much of her dad.

I decide to opt for honesty. “I can’t really give you advice, sweetie, I didn’t really date much until I got to university. I went to see Star Wars with a boy who asked me when I was nine but I don’t think that counts. I don’t know if there is a right age.”

A., a bit frustrated with this decides to cut to the chase.
“Well if I ask (insert name here) to the Canucks game will you drive us?”
“Sure.” I respond
“Can I have money?” s/he sheepishly asks.
“Yeah, how much?”
“Enough to buy us both food. The man usually pays.”
I bite my tongue. The feminist in me is cringing, but the mom of my baby butch is tickled.
“Yes I will drive you and give you money.”
So tonight as I type this my 13 year old is at GM place, wearing too much cologne, buying dinner for her date. I am not sure if her companion is aware they are on a date, but it hardly matters.
To top it off, Vancouver beat Ottawa soundly at tonights game.

Pity party

2010-03-12T22:57:00.000-08:00

I have a pity party for myself about once every 3 months or so. It usually doesn’t last long, and is often precipitated by a major event. In this case it was an unbelievable amount of work, with little sleep, food, or family contact; followed by the onset of the flu. It is in these moment where I like to feel sorry for myself. Needless to say, I have a good life. I have wonderful kids, a warm and secure home, a job I love and a partner who loves me.

One thing I realized, however, is that I spend a lot of time and energy caring for others. My partner, my kids, my clients, even my dog. Today at the drug store Anneke and I were filling a prescription for her strep throat. While shopping s/he was trying to encourage me to buy things for me. “You never treat yourself.” s/he pointed out. Today I treated myself to the mega bottle of Advil cold and sinus – my drug of choice. Yesterday I was feeling sorry for myself, because I felt there was no one around to take care of me. Today I realized I was wrong – I have raised one of the most nurturing kids on the planet.

As we were waiting for the prescription to be filled I was looking for make-up that might make me look more human and less sick. Anneke picked up a nail polish she thought her sister would like. As she did this the sales associate came by, “Hello ladies, can I help you find anything?” We both froze. It was probably the first time in years that anyone assumed Anneke was female. I also don’t find myself in the make-up department too often so I felt oddly uncomfortable. “No thanks.” We said, then giggled like school-girls when she left.
In that fun moment my pity party ended.

Bad news

2010-03-01T22:44:00.000-08:00

So last Wednesday after a long day, I picked up messages to learn that Anneke had not been accepted to the Hockey Academy High School s/he had applied to. My heart sank. She had all the pieces: a good report card, a glowing letter from her coach, a long career of dedicated hockey experience...it didn't make sense. I knew s/he would be disappointed, possibly crushed at this news.

By the time I picked up the message s/he was in bed. The next day, was to be our Olympic day together, going to the Women's Bronze medal game of the Olympic Games...a day to inspire hockey dreams, not crush them. I couldn't bear to tell her that day. Friday I worked late and s/he babysat until midnight. The reality is, there is no good time. I finally told her Saturday, while we were out alone together in the car.

She was desperately disappointed, but tried not to show it. As much as I have tried to encourage her to express her feelings, s/he is stoic and stubborn to a fault...too much like her mother, I'm afraid. I tried to talk up the virtues of the other High School s/he is interested in. They have a hockey team, they have an out lesbian as president of their student council, and by far, she would have better academic success. We agreed that the Hockey Academy was losing out not accepting her, and that the other high school was the best choice. Phew.

Before bed however, a quiet scared voice cuddled in bed with me and said
"I don't really want to go to High School mom. I'm really nervous about it."
I wanted to crumble next to her and cry, "Me too, I'm terrified. I am scared of the suicide rate amongst trans-gendered youth, I'm scared of bullies. I'm scared you won't find love or acceptance! I am scared you will be hurt." Of course, I couldn't say all that.

"It's going to be great. You're going to make great new friends and play on their hockey team. If you don't like it, we will find a school you like." Her body relaxed hearing that.
"You're a great mom, you know that mom?" s/he said.
"I try."
"You succeed." s/he said.

The reality is - I am terrified.

Bobsledding underdogs

2010-02-21T22:01:00.000-08:00

This picture was taken in the airport in Jamaica where the Jamaican bobsled now resides. What fun.

Ever since our trip to Jamaica four years ago, we have been die-hard fans of the Jamaican bobsledding team. There is something to be said for the ultimate of underdogs. Poverty and tropical climes make for huge barriers to surmount, and yet they do. How great is that. As soon as we got home from that trip we rented Cool Runnings and have cheered on all Jamaican winter Olympians ever since.

It just goes to shore, with determination and guts you can do anything. This year, sadly, they did not qualify but one skier did. Go Jamaica! One Love!

My handsome kid

2010-02-20T22:02:00.000-08:00

Cool stuff

2010-02-17T14:38:00.000-08:00

Here are 5 seriously cool things Anneke gets to do....

1. Go see the Women's Bronze medal game of the 2010 Olympics.
2. Watch the Swedish Mens hockey team practice today.
3. Meet the entire Canadian Women's hockey team at the airport and get their autographs.
4. Appear in a 'We Believe' Olympics commercial aired on CTV.
5. Dream about being in the Olympics one day.

Shaken

2010-02-16T22:01:00.000-08:00

Ghandi once said “In a gentle way you can shake the world.”
I believe this to be true

I am a veteran activist and protester – mostly from my student union days. I have protested Cruise missile testing, tuition increases, welfare cuts, homelessness and lack of affordable housing, the Gulf War(s), George Bush Sr/Jr., the Oka crisis, and the destruction of our old growth forests. Well, those are the ones I can remember. Have I made a difference in the world? I like to think so. At least I had my voice heard, and tried to affect change instead of just complaining about things. Some of my local activism in Regent Park as a community organizer, has directly improved the lives of those living there. These are some of the moments of my life I am most proud of.

So when my kids lined the street this week with their entire school to cheer on the Olympic flame, I had extremely mixed emotions when they came home to report that protesters had ruined it. My kids seemed to spit nails as they uttered the word “protesters”. The anti-Olympic protesters blocked the street they had been waiting on and the flame had to be re-routed. Their disappointment was palpable. Molly had even made a ‘Go Canada” sign just for the event.

While I don’t support destructive methods like the ones downtown last week where property was damaged I also don’t universally condemn it either. There is a level of anger and frustration demonstrated there, that simply cannot be ignored. Violent vs. non-violent action is another more complicated debate.

So here I am with two kids who view protesters as fun-killers who hate the Olympics. This, I observed, was an opportunity to talk issues with my kids. We had a long talk about social justice, housing, political will (or lack thereof)and the need to gently shake the world. At the end of the conversation they no longer hated the protesters – they just wish they had not blocked the road. Phew.

Anneke told me this week her whole class has been working on letters to the editor about their experience. S/he said s/he planned to write about her disappointment, but also write about how important it is to build homes for homeless people, and help poor people. I realized in that moment one of the best ways to ‘shake the world’ is to raise kind, compassionate children.

This is my current political action.

Babies

2010-02-14T21:51:00.000-08:00

Last night A. came along with me to visit a baby, whose birth I attended a few days ago. The baby was 3 days old. I don't normally bring my kids along, but A and M were driving each other crazy, so it was an effort at peacekeeping. Before we entered the house A. asked if s/he could hold the baby.
"We can ask." I said.
"Will you ask?"
"Sure."
From the moment we walked in the door, I handed the baby (with parents permission, of course) to Anneke. After I examined the baby, she sat quietly on the couch holding the baby. "I love babies," s/he honestly told the new parents.
"You must see a lot of babies," they responded.
"Yup, but I like it" s/he replied

I was, in this moment, struck with a pang of deep sadness. You see, if A. goes from hormone blockers to testosterone - something s/he has been talking more about doing - s/he gives up her reproductive capability. S/he would not be able to become pregnant or birth a child. Of course, I logically know that there are other ways s/he can become a parent, and I know s/he will be a wonderful one. It is certainly not the end of the world. S/he also, unfortunately, knows far too much about the birth process to volunteer for it in any way. The consequence of being the child of a midwife.

There is something, however, very powerful and transforming about giving birth. Prior to having A. in 1997, I had a relationship with my body that moved from deep ambivalence to outright hatred. Fat, scars and stretchmarks. That's pretty much all I could see. Then I gave birth to a 9lb 8 oz baby at home - sans drugs. It was the hardest thing I have ever done. My body became an instrument that performed perfectly. In that moment, I came to love my body, and the amazing things it could do - grow a baby, birth, breastfeed....

I certainly would never had imagined myself deciding on my childbearing plans at age 13. Even at age 28, it was quite a stretch. I can barely keep plants alive. It's fair to say, saying good-bye to A's reproductive abilities will be one of our biggest decisions - one we will not make lightly.

Anneke has spontaneously said, on more than one occasion. "I think my girlfriend will have kids. I'd like to be the dad."
"I think you'd make an awesome dad." I always reply.
"I think so too."

Let the Games Begin

2010-02-13T18:10:00.000-08:00

It's fair to say, I have very mixed feeling about the Olympic Games being held in Vancouver, where I live. That said, I cannot let those feelings dampen my awe and enthusiasm for amateur sport at its finest. To have two children that can dream about playing in the Olympics is a magical thing. That dream, and these games, will inspire them for years to come. As I write this A. is glued to Women's hockey - Canada vs. Slovakia.

When I ask her if she fantasized about being on the Olympic hockey team, s/he says yes. When I asked if s/he imagines herself on the mens team or the womens, s/he says - I don't know yet.
Fair enough.

Siblings

2010-02-09T12:01:00.001-08:00

They really do love each other. They can't sleep in different rooms. Can't go to bed at different times. And always walk to and from school together. Despite the 4.5 year age difference, they love each other very much. As an only child it warms my heart. I always wanted a sibling.

Now they're both bugging me for a brother....I really don't think so.

Hangin' with Haley

2010-02-08T00:54:00.000-08:00

Of all the athletes to admire and aspire to be like, Haley Wickenheiser is in a class with few others. Today A & M and I headed out to the Vancouver International Airport to follow a lead that the 2010 Women's Olympic Hockey team was arriving. After a long wait, and much anticipation, it was worth the wait. The entire women's Olympic team arrived and signed a stick of A's and a smaller stick of M's.

At A's recent 13th birthday her goalie coach also gave her a stick with almost the entire 1998 Olympic Women's hockey teams' signatures. S/he was touched beyond words. It meant so much to her that another female athlete whom she admires would share such a special treasure with her. One of the only missing autographs was Haley Wickenheiser.

Today we got her to sign both sticks and pose with us for a photo!

For those who don't know who she is, I have included a brief biography. She, more than any other female athlete has broken down gender barriers in the arena of amateur and professional sport. She has proven, that your gender, simply does not matter when you have the love of the sport and the skill. What a woman to admire. I am so glad my kids got to meet her.

Bio
Three-time Olympic medalist, Hayley Wickenheiser is regarded as one of the best female hockey players in the world with an uncompromised determination and dedication to her sport. However, it’s not just her lethal slapshot that is respected by her teammates, fans and peers; Hayley is also an award winner, community leader, mentor, history-maker and an accomplished businesswoman.

It all started at age 15 in Shaunavon, Saskatchewan when Hayley was chosen for the Canadian Women’s National Team. She has since led the squad to six gold and one silver medals at the Women’s World Hockey Championships. As an Olympian, she earned a silver medal at the 1998 Winter Olympics in Nagano, Japan and two gold medals at the Winter Olympics in 2002 and 2006. Accompanying all thathardware, Hayley was also named the tournaments' most valuable player in both victorious Olympic runs as well as in numerous Esso Women’s Hockey Championships.

Hayley Wickenheiser has proven to be an elite athlete time and time again. Sports Illustrated recently named her number 20 of the Top 25 Toughest Athletes in the World.(Read Article) She is also a two-time finalist for the Women’s Sports Foundation Team Athlete of The Year. In January 2003, Hayley made hockey history when she became the first female hockey player to notch a point in a men’s professional game with the Kirkkonummen Salamat of the Finnish second division. More recently, Wickenheiser played in Eskilstuna, Sweden with a men’s professional division-one hockey team for the 08-09 season.

Along with hockey, Wickenheiser has mastered a number of sports. An elite softball player, she participated in the 2000 Summer Olympics as a member of Team Canada and most recently worked as a Softball Analyst with CBC’s coverage of the 2008 Beijing Summer Olympics.

As you will hopefully recognize A and M are picture above to the left of Haley. She seemed happy to greet her fans, and the entire team took time to sign A's stick and offer words of support. What a great day!

Part two

2010-02-06T23:44:00.000-08:00

Do you ever have those out of body experiences, where you are looking down at yourself in a crap situation, and think, wow that really sucks. I wonder what they are going to do? What I really want to do is melt into a puddle and cry…what I must to is figure out a plan.

Option One ….tell the team and the coach that their star goalie does not have her equipment, and we forfeit the game. Not an appealing option.

Option two…drive back to Vancouver to get her stuff. It is at this moment that I realize that her goalie bag is on its way to Maple Ridge with M. I phone Ben and ask him to call the dad giving her a ride and break the news to M. that she will not be able to play her game either. So in addition to being physically impossible, the missing hockey bag is on its way to Maple Ridge….also a physical impossibility.

Option three… We drive to Canadian Tire and try to piece together equipment so s/he can play.

While I voice these options aloud, A keeps repeating the same three sentences…ones she had heard from me over a thousand times. “Breathe. Don’t worry. It will be ok….mummy, just breath.”

“Get the GPS. We’re going to Canadian Tire. What exactly do you need?.”
“Skates and pants I think. The rest I can get from M’s bag.”
“Let’s go.”

To my credit. I work well under pressure. Another skill developed from years of being a midwife and dealing with crazy, time sensitive, situations. We made it to and from Canadian Tire with the requisite pieces of equipment in time to dress for the game and get on the ice. Luckily, also we were playing the only team in the lower mainland with a ‘back-up’ goalie. She loaned A a jersey, blocker and glove.

With the wrong equipment, its fair to say, s/he did not play her best game….but at that point it didn’t matter. S/he was on the ice, in full gear. As I explained our, almost comical situation to the other parents and coaches, I felt like an idiot. How could I screw up something so simple, as getting the right kids’ bag? How did these other parents do it? They looked way more together than I felt, even on my good days. How did they get here looking so together, with their mugs of coffee, and their happy, fed, fully clothed kids?

At the end of the game A’s coach (a lovely guy and awesome coach) asked to speak to us. This is rarely good. He addressed his comments to A, and reminded her that it was her responsibility to organize her equipment and not rely on her mom and dad. In my fragile state I felt chastised and embarrassed. As he gently and appropriately spoke to A, and ended our conversation I proceeded to burst into tears. I retreated to the car, where I had the biggest cry I’ve had in years. It took me awhile to even be able to drive.

As we drove home, Anneke said one thing…..”I love you so much mom.”
“Thanks sweetie, I love you too.” Maybe it wasn’t such an awful day after all.

Bad day as a hockey mom.... Part 1

2010-02-06T23:16:00.000-08:00

Life, as the mom of two kids, is by definition a challenge. Never mind their gender identity. The lives of kids today is busy and complex. This week we had a particularly hard day…or at least I did.

To start with, I had to figure out how I was going to get A. to a hockey game she was playing in Abbottsford (about an hour drive) while simultaneously getting M. to her game in Maple Ridge (about a 40 minute drive) in rush hour traffic. A last minute offer to drive M. came through to my relief, and I started my busy day.

8 am – visited a baby I helped deliver (sans coffee) then rushed to my clinic in Vancouver to see clients. 11 am, rushed to Maple Ridge, where I am also working for an important meeting. My plan was to eat along the way, but soon realized I had forgotten my wallet at my Vancouver office. I scraped together enough change for a coffee at Tim Horton’s, thank the goddesses, and rushed to my meeting. From there I rushed to Vancouver to visit a family planning a homebirth, in downtown Vancouver, during the Olympics. (Madness for all of us involved.) Now 3pm, I still have not eaten and have a stress headache. From here I navigated my way to my office to get my purse, then home to drop off M’s hockey bag.

To feed both kids I decided to pick up sushi, the only healthy portable option I could think of. When I got home I asked M to go to the car to get her hockey bag, but along the way she tripped, hurt her knee and came home crying and bleeding. Rescue remedy, Band-aid, and serious TLC administered, I sent her dad to get her bag, while I organized the food, and left to pick up A. at her basketball game.

As many of you know, Ben (their dad) does not drive…a blessing for us all…but today I am bitter about his fact, as he waves goodbye and sits down with his sushi and the TV remote.

Still no time for food, I drive to the school gym pick up A. and get on the highway to go to Abbottsford. As I look over to my sweat covered child, I am filled with pride and wonder. How on earth did I give birth to an athletic kid? S/he loves sports of every kind, and is good at everything s/he tries…even golf! Not only is s/he athletic, but deeply confident in her abilities. The very opposite of me…thank goodness.

As I drive I realize how tired I am, having had bad sleeps all week. Sleep is for the weak, I try to convince myself. Midwives as a group often take a perverse amount of pride in their ability to function normally despite insane levels of sleep deprivation. Sadly, I am one such midwife.

We arrive at the Abbottsford arena in great time, and I breathe a sigh of relief… I can get a coffee, eat, and relax before the game. We open to trunk of the car, remove A’s goalie pads, and look squarely at M’s hockey bag…….not Anneke’s.

My exact words were….”shit, shit, fuck me…this is my fault. Oh my God…what are we going to do?”

Happy Birthday!

2010-01-23T23:20:00.000-08:00

Today is A's 13th birthday. We all had a wonderful day, starting with an awesome hockey game where s/he showed off her talent as a goaltender, followed by a party with her team-mates and coaches. From there we went to one of her favourite places, Maplewood Farm. We visited the goats, cows, horses and pigs, to name a few. As I learned from a young age, animals don't judge or scrutinize. Anneke has the same kinship with animals I have had for most of my life ... she would like to be the next 'Dog Whisperer' and build a Canadian rehabilitation centre for dogs. I suggested she start with our own, poorly trained dog, Zoe.

After an afternoon of Wii, and NHL hockey we made our way to English Bay to have dinner at one of our favourite restaurants and watch the Cannucks. The table next to us was filled with almost 20 gay men celebrating a pending marriage two of their friends. They helped us sing Happy Birthday to Anneke as though we were in a Broadway show. It was great!

As with any birthday, I also like to celebrate the fact that I gave birth, and haven't managed to kill or screw up my kids yet. To this end I enjoyed an amazing meal, several pomegranate martinis and a dessert to die for.

I have no illusions that next year will be full of challenges. What I know for sure, is that Anneke has the strength and maturity to take it all in stride.

This year we have all become Gleeks. The lyrics to this song are what I wish I could sing/say to Anneke each and every day of her life.

Happy Birthday Anneke. You are an amazing kid!

Your son just.....

2010-01-02T13:45:00.000-08:00

So I am totally used to people referring to A. as my son. This is no longer a surprise, but in certain venues I am still taken off guard it seems. Years ago, I used to correct people, and let them know that A. was indeed my daughter. This led to a variety of reactions, mostly just awkward apologies, and A. looking embarrassed. It has been years since I corrected someone.

One of the places there is no confusion is A's hockey world. She has been a member of the Vancouver Angel's girls hockey team since our arrival in Vancouver 4+ years ago. All the parents, coaches and kids know her and make her feel welcomed and valued. This year she plays goal on a Pee Wee rep team. Last year she helped out as goalie for the Midget level girls team and played at the Bantam level (one level up from her age group). As a result, parents from almost all levels know A.

The new factor this year is that Molly has started to play hockey... also for the Vancouver Angels. Its fair to say, many of the parents on Molly's team, don't know A. or know that s/he is natally female. Recently at a skills building session at the Trout Lake arena, I was bringing A. to her session and picking up Molly from hers. When Molly and I emerged from the dressing room a very agitated mom was waiting outside the door eager to let me know that my son appears to have gone in the wrong dressing room.

This is what I mean by being taken off guard. "Sorry?" I said, a bit confused.
"Your son just went into the girls dressing room...I think he's in the wrong place."
Molly, a veteran of these conversations, immediately caught on.
"That's my sister...she's a girl, that's her team." she informed the well meaning mom.
Catching on, I realized that she thought me teenage son had just crashed a dressing room full of half-naked 11 and 12 year old girls...thus her distress.
"Yes," I added, "that's my older daughter Anneke, s/he is the goalie for the Pee Wee rep team."
Since its been years since I had corrected someone, it has also been years since I had witnessed the awkward reaction to this revelation. As anticipated, she repeated, "I'm so sorry," about 6 times. Molly attempted to comfort the poor mom by simply stating that "That's ok, it happens all the time. Anneke is a girl... but really is mostly a boy. Everyone gets confused. Bye!"
While this makes total sense to Molly and I, the woman watched us walk away, with a look of both embarrassment and confusion etched across her face.

I used to get irritated by these conversations, but now I view them as opportunities to share with other people how wonderful and unique my kid is... and to challenge their traditional views of gender.

Sibling love

2009-12-29T15:10:00.000-08:00

This is a picture of Anneke expressing her love towards her sister – the photographer in this case. While, as a good mother, I should find this picture mortifying, frankly I think it's hilarious. Perhaps it is because I know deep down they love each other very much.

I don’t pretend to understand the dynamics of sibling relationships. I am an only child and was pathologically shy as a child. I spent most of my time playing alone, reading and adopting neighbourhood pets as my own. While I was never deeply unhappy I was often lonely, so I knew if I had kids, I would definitely plan to have more than one.

I have certainly revisited that plan on more than one occasion after I actually had a child. I did not enjoy being pregnant, having every discomfort in the book. I also quickly realized that they do not make plus sized maternity clothes. Apparently chubby women are not expected to breed. Giving birth, was, and continues to be the hardest thing I have ever done…so to sign up to do it twice seems like an exercise in madness.

Four and a half years after A. was born I had Molly. We had given A. the very special job of telling us if we had, had a boy or a girl. You see, I had planned to have a homebirth with A. present, but Molly had other plans, preferring to stay put almost two weeks past her due date. When A. arrived at the hospital we pretended as though we had been waiting expectantly for her to execute her ‘special job.’ When s/he announced the baby was a girl, she was beyond disappointed….she was pissed! S/he had desperately wanted me to have a boy. It took her weeks to get over her disappointment. She would frequently walk up to me and ask “when is the baby going home?” or “can we bring her back to the hospital and trade her for another baby?” Friends and family assured me this was normal.

While they are as different from one another as night and day in many ways, and they bicker like old ladies, they are virtually inseparable. When we moved to Vancouver and could finally afford a three-bedroom home, they were thrilled that they would each get their own room. Pink with Hannah Montana posters for Miss Molly, orange walls, NHL bedding and Luongo and Sidney Crosby posters for Anneke respectively. This separate bedroom arrangement lasted about two nights. Soon after bedtime, mattresses were dragged down hallways, and in the morning we found them snuggled together in the same bed. To this day they insist on sharing the same 9 by 12 bedroom - hockey posters on one wall, Hannah Montana on the other.

A. stageside at the Rolling Stones

2009-12-27T01:55:00.001-08:00

The Christmas Party

2009-12-26T23:19:00.000-08:00

The other event that stands out in my mind, from when A. was young was my first large Christmas party at the hospital where I worked at the time. All staff were asked to submit the names, ages and gender of their children. Gifts were bought for them and Santa was planning to make an appearance to distribute gifts by name to all the children. The hospital where I worked at the time was a large Catholic hospital in Toronto. Needless to say, I didn't feel terribly comfortable calling one of the nuns and explaining the ins and outs of my gender fluid child. My brilliant plan at the time was simply not to attend. A. was about 6 years old.

When asked that week if I was going, I explained to my co-workers at the time, that I was likely to go. Several women suggested I should go anyway, as it was a nice networking opportunity at a hospital that was still trying to understand and integrate midwifery. They also suggested I prepare A. for the inevitable girly present and offer a trade at the toy store. One of the midwives I worked with, a gender-fluid woman herself, also pointing out that hiding my kid at home, was not much of a solution. This convinced me to go.

We spent several days preparing A. for a fake Santa that didn't know her (like the mall Santa did), and the likelihood she would get a gift that she didn't like. The fact there would be cake, cookies and carols guaranteed her attendance however.

Sure enough, as predicted, s/he was presented with one of those large Barbie heads that you apply make-up to, and style their hair. A hideous toy, no matter who you are. Despite our preparation, her disappointment was palpable. Luckily, kids seem to bounce back from these disappointments quite quickly. Most of the party, she played with the boys and their new toys.

As luck, or fate, would have it one of the girls at the party coveted her new Barbie head. Being a surprisingly generous child, s/he offered it to the little girl. The little girl sheepishly offered her brother's toy in return pointing out that he already had one. Her face lit up! "What did he get?" she asked enthusiastically.
"A Hot Wheels set," she replied. A. looked like she had just won the lottery.

"Look mom!" she squealed as she bounded over "It has cars and everything, and it loops upside down...I always wanted one! This is a great party!"

This and many other episodes like it since have reminded me that life has a way of working things out, as long as you are true to yourself, and nurture and trust your spirit.

Santa

2009-12-25T16:19:00.000-08:00

Like most parents, our family lines up every year at the mall to sit on Santa's knee and tell him what we want for Christmas. The first time we lined up after A. got her hair cut s/he was probably about 5yrs old. As the line inched forward at the Eaton's Centre in Toronto, I soon realized that the Santa that was there introduced himself to each wonder filled child by asking their name, and asking if they had been a good little girl or boy this year. My heart sank. He was going to ask if s/he had been a good boy this year. When I mentioned this to A. - I can't remember exactly what I said - s/he calmly stated, "Don't worry mommy, Santa knows me, he knows that I am a girl, and that I don't like girl things."

My worry at this point turned into full scale panic. My sweet 5 year old was suddenly going to have her belief in Santa crushed. Even the best department store Santa was not going to evade this catastrophe. I grabbed, Ben and made him assume my place in line, while I attempted to tackle one of 'Santa's helpers'. I finally got the candy cane elf to listen to me. "You have to tell Santa, my kid is a girl. S/he will be crushed if he assumes s/he is a boy. S/he believes in Santa and thinks this is the real deal, and will be crushed if he doesn't know if s/he is a boy or a girl."
Her confusion turned into understanding once I pointed out my family. Just before we we all went up to Santa, this angel of a helper said a few words to Santa. When we approached, he said "Hello girls, how are you today?" A. glanced at me, with an 'I told you so look' that almost made me cry. I felt like I had been holding my breath for an hour.

As we left the mall and headed for the streetcar home, s/he proudly announced to us, "See mama, Santa knows me, he knew I was a girl - Santa knows me! I don't know what you were worried about."

Opa

2009-12-22T22:47:00.001-08:00

Most parents of trans-gendered kids have 'coming out' type stories to share about when they told their parents or grandparents. Last year around Christmas was when we decided to tell my dad about Anneke's journey and being on blockers for over a year. We figured he might start noticing that s/he wasn't developing like the 'other girls' and also, I knew in my heart he would love and support her no matter what.

My dad is a gentle, mild mannered guy, who has spent all of his life driving a bus, subway or streetcar and putting up with my crazy mother - until their ultimate divorce. When he found out A. was interested in hockey he immediately became her benefactor, funding the purchase of all of her gear. He would drive for hours to Toronto to watch her play.

My own memories of hockey were of me curled up on the couch with my dad cheering for the Habs, listening to his stories about Rocket Richard and playing hockey on ponds as a boy.

This year when s/he decided to pursue being a full time goalie, a $1000 cheque quietly appeared in the mail - to help us buy her gear. He lives on a modest pension in Ontario, but he her biggest fan. (He has also become a fan of Molly's as her hockey career blooms.)

Over the years he has also stopped buying 'girly' things for her. When we told him about Dr. Metzger, blockers and her possible desire to transition to male he was unconditionally supportive. He even offered to help pay for her expensive medication.
I was a huge relief to talk to my dad about all of this and feel his support. He is the only family I have, and to know he loved us and supported A.'s journey meant more than words can express. He even said he might come to Seattle next year....
How blessed we are.

High school

2009-12-21T14:05:00.000-08:00

Our latest pre-occupation has been thinking about high school for A. It makes my stomach flip just to write this. Firstly, how am I old enough to have a child entering high school? Where exactly did my 30's go? Secondly, and most importantly, how is this mother bear going to send her gender fluid child into the harsh land of teenagers and hormones? Anneke has applied to the the Hockey Academy, which by pure luck is our local high school. While s/he wanted to explore other options, I have to say, I encouraged this one. You see, hockey is the one thing that makes her happy and where s/he feels s/he can fit in. The fact that there is hockey every day, and all the kids there automatically have a love for the game seems like a wonderful start. We shall find out early in the New Year, if s/he is accepted....then we shall begin working with a new school on the issues of changerooms, bathrooms, etc....

I have realized through this process that I have to let go of my own of my own baggage surrounding my high school experiences. Accepted into a programme for gifted students, its fair to say, I wasn't the only geek of the bunch, but a stand-out one nonetheless. When you add shyness and being overweight to the equation, you can imagine how much I enjoyed my four years of secondary school. University was a much better experience. As Anneke reminds me, she is athletic and popular, thus a very different start than mine. S/he is also far more confident and doesn't care as much about fitting in.

2010 will a year of huge challenges and even bigger accomplishments for our family. I promise to write more regularly, to ensure you are part of our journey....

"It's hard to be me"

2009-09-24T23:29:00.000-07:00

I realized recently that I have never really explained how Anneke and I entitled this blog. (Do blogs have titles? names?) Anyway, when Anneke was a baby the crib didn't really work out for us, as a 'baby-sleeping device'. Our three cats claimed it at theirs and were quite put out if they ever discovered a baby in their luxury cat bed. Anneke mostly slept in bed with us. Once s/he got a 'big-girl bed' s/he would only fall asleep if I laid down with her in her bed. While at first I found this to be an imposition I soon realized that this was one of the few times Anneke truly let out her feelings and talk about her day.

Until bed time Anneke would act like all other kids. "How was school?" Fine.
"Were your friends nice to you?" Yep.
"Did anything happen today at school?" Nope
"Is everything OK?" Yes, mom...(add some Disney attitude)
It was not until the quiet of the night, and the safe peace of her time with me that s/he would open up and tell me about her day. Most times s/he would just begin to cry. "I don't know why I'm crying" s/he would say. This happened almost three times a week. S/he would confess, that she didn't have any friends and that the kids at school would not play with her; that s/he felt different from the other girls, and didn't like being different.

"You know mom" s/he would often say "it's really hard to be me."
"I know sweetie" I would always say.
In my most desperate moments I would suggest s/he could be like the other girls, grow her hair and buy different clothes. S/he would pause, obviously contemplating this, then always say, "No, that wouldn't be me."
"I know, and I don't want you to change, not even a bit" I would always say, as if coming to my senses.

All of my high-school insecurities seemed to bubble to the surface during these moments. I would remember all the time and effort I would devote to fitting in and being like everyone else. I would always look at this amazing child before me in awe of how courageous s/he was. Able to be herself, despite how hard it felt, and how lonely s/he was. It is that courage, however, that resolve, that tells me everything will be fine. Despite the pressure and isolation Anneke has never waivered in who s/he is and what s/he wears. It has taken me almost 40 years to develop that kind of self confidence.

I know at age 12 we have some difficult years ahead. But I also know I have one of the strongest most amazing kids in the world.

Best Birthday

2009-09-20T21:59:00.000-07:00

My apologies for the long break between entries. We've had lots of great things going on with our family and some serious work stress on my part that has interfered with regular entries. A friend pointed out recently that Anneke and I had an 'audience' and really should blog regularly, so here goes my attempt to catch up.

I was looking over some pictures the other day, and came across this one from Anneke's birthday a few years ago. It was memorable, as it was in the Sports Hall of Fame, lots of friends came,(mostly hockey team friends) and it was the very first birthday in her decade of life, that s/he did not get one 'girly' present. No jewelery boxes, nothing pink, no sporty Barbie. It was awesome! Most of her team pitched in for a Cannucks Luongo jersey, ending any love for the Leafs she had left.
S/he is now officially a Cannucks fan, and the other day I even heard her say the Leaf's suck - while true, this hurt my Torontonian heart.

I know it may not seem like that big a deal for a kid to get the right presents at her birthday, but when you go most of your life and no-one seems to see the real you, it must get to you after a while. It would be so sad to see her birthday after birthday, opening gifts with excitement only to see her face fall when s/he would receive a doll or girls-rule craft kit.

This was a very good birthday. As Anneke noted - the best ever.

Anneke & Ben

2009-06-21T15:14:00.001-07:00

Ben is a great dad and partner. He has been unconditionally accepting of Anneke since her birth. He became a father at age 40, and states often that he never imagined he'd be a father at all - and its the best thing that has ever happened to him.

Here are five fun facts about Ben (Anneke's dad)

1. He does not own a suit or tie - Anneke, however, does.
2. He sell medical marijuana for a living. Making him to many the coolest dad ever. http://www.thecompassionclub.org/
3. He is Dutch and deeply proud of his heritage.
4. He cries at all special occasion. Eg:this am reading his father's day card from Anneke.
5. He loves the Rolling Stones, and wears a Stone's T-shirt most days.

Ben is a great dad. Happy Father's Day.

Confessions of an aspiring soccer mom

2009-06-20T21:19:00.000-07:00

I am happy to report, I am often told by friends and strangers alike that I am a good mom. "S/he is so lucky to have parents like you," many say. While I agree that's true, and much preferred over an intolerant, inflexible, homophobic mom I wish daily that I was a better mom.

The truth is since the day Anneke was born, I have felt like a clever impostor. When Anneke was first born I felt like a high school kid given an egg to take home and nurture like a newborn. None of my friends had kids yet, and my mom was the least maternal woman in my life ie: she was no help. Every birthday, I have breathed a deep sigh of relief that I have not yet dropped or damaged the egg. Like any impostor, however, I live in fear of being discovered for the fraud that I am.

I have a few deep flaws that have been hard to change over the years, but over the past few weeks I have made huge progress. One of them is that I am very disorganized and messy. I know it drives my kids nuts, but like all children they have adapted to the chaos that is our home/life. I joke to many that I am one mental health breakdown from being one of those hoarders/collectors you see on TV. It is closer to the truth that I like to admit.

So on my birthday in May I did two things. I hired a cleaning woman, who is amazing, new to Canada, and needs me to help her as much as I need her to help me. Second, I bought several Peter Walsh 'clear the clutter' books, and have begun to purge and organize our home. Yes, in case you are wondering, I am reading the books and have only misplaced them once.

Over the past three days I have exited 6 garbage bags of 'stuff' to either the local charity or to the garbage. Most has been going to My Sister's Closet, a store whose proceeds assist battered women's shelters.

Today is soccer day in our house. Molly had two games this morning followed by Anneke's two games. Molly is on team Tanzania, Anneke team Mexico. Our normal pre-game routine involved madly looking for their team shirts, praying that they don't smell, then scrambling to find cleats and socks. Notice Anneke (far left) in the picture above does not have soccer socks, on picture day. Long ago I established a soccer drawer, which I encouraged them to use to put store their belongings. This was a system that seemed to work in theory not practice.

Except today! Both girls went to the drawer and found all of their necessary belongings...and they were clean! Anneke, who I know, craves more order in our life, remarked. "Wow, that's great! It's all here." No searching necessary.

Today I baked organic blueberry muffins in my clean kitchen and made healthy, hot lunch and healthy (albeit late) dinner. Perhaps my days as an impostor are coming to an end.

Five facts about Anneke

2009-06-20T21:12:00.000-07:00

1. S/he learned to walk (and run) and an obscenely young age - 9.5 months

2. S/he avidly, somewhat obsessively collects hockey cards (and plays hockey.)

3. S/he is deeply kind, empathetic and sensitive. S/he is the first one to befriend the new kid at school, or help a friend.

4. S/he has suffered from anxiety and depression - both are much improved today.

5. S/he is an amazing athlete. Hockey, soccer, volleyball....there is nothing s/he can't do!

More about blockers

2009-06-10T22:36:00.000-07:00

The one thing I have learned being a parent for the past 12+ years is that you never know with certainty that you are doing the right thing. From diaper cream to university, its a never ending array of choices. The choice to start your child on 'blockers' is another one in the long list, where you don't know with certainly you're right. But, as I tell parents every day, you have to trust your instincts.

The best guide you will ever have is your child. Listen to your child. They will tell you what they need, and what works for them. Even babies are able to do this if you listen carefully.

Over the past 9 months Anneke has been taking blockers, many of her friends have begun to grow breasts and start their periods. Soon her 'difference' will be obvious. We'll cross that bridge when we get there.

The following is some more info about blockers as a 'controversial' therapy for trans-gendered children.

The treatment will begin with what is known as a “hormone blocker,” a drug that will postpone the physical changes of adolescence. Some doctors are using hormone blockers to buy time for transgender youth, so they can decide whether they are certain they want to transition. If not, the doctor stops the blocker and the child matures as he or she otherwise would have. If, however, the youth wishes to transition, the doctor stops the blocker and begins “cross-sex hormone” treatments.

Debate about the medical and ethical ramifications of postponing adolescence is fervent. Opponents question how anyone under the age of consent can make a decision about their gender, and point to potential side effects of treatment. Advocates say that the treatment spares kids the pain of developing features they don’t identify with, saves much of the cost of altering those features through surgery, and reduces the risk of suicide and self-mutilation.
Recently, debate in the medical community has shifted toward a “harm prevention” model, says Dr. Norman Spack, senior endocrinologist and co-founder/co-director of gender management services at Children’s Hospital Boston. Just two years ago, Dr. Spack says, The Endocrine Society refused to host a symposium of the world’s most renowned transgender specialists. Now, the society has asked them to create recommended standards of practice for treatment, which they will publish in about a year and a half.
Further, last February, Dr. Spack and Children’s Hospital Boston, opened the first major clinic in the country to treat transgender children, and they are working closely with European physicians at the forefront of the field.
Physicians at the Amsterdam Gender Clinic, for example, had, by last February, treated about 60 patients by blocking puberty in children who “met strict requirements.” A 2007 sanfranciscoweekly.com article describes the physicians’ work and the criteria the children must meet: “Their Gender Identity Disorder had existed since an early age; they were otherwise psychologically stable; and [they] had a supportive family.” The article reports that the adolescents were “between the ages of 12 and 16 … half of whom were referred early enough to start shortly after the onset of puberty. For those who had reached the middle stages of puberty, the drug could slightly reverse and stop any further development.”
A tough decision
Whether to treat transgender children is a difficult decision to make. Not only must parents and doctors decide whether the child’s feelings are going to last and consider types of treatment and when to begin, parents must also bear the cost of treatment and the fact that they may be met with lack of family support or, at the very least, incomprehension from friends and family.
“[People] don’t understand why we as parents are doing this,” says Daniel’s mother, Stephanie Grant,* who’s written a “booklet” about her experiences titled The Agony of Nurturing the Spirit. “It’s not just because of the suicide rate. It’s one thing to have general reassignment surgery that costs $30,000 to $40,000. But testosterone is such a wicked hormone. … [Transgender] adults spend hundreds of dollars and hours getting rid of hair, muscle tissue, having one’s face removed because testosterone causes changes in jaw structure etc. To save our children from the many hours of surgery, we have an opportunity to help future adult transgenders to just need [genital] reassignment surgery, because what they go through is unbelievable. [But,] people don’t understand why we can’t wait.”

As parents Ben and I have made our share of bad decisions. Blockers for Anneke is not one of them.

Dr. Metzger and blockers

2009-06-10T22:10:00.000-07:00

A couple years ago. Anneke became very depressed. S/he had chronic headaches, stomach aches, and missed a lot of school. Many doctor visits later we realized s/he was very depressed and anxious. Much of it had to do with the subtle changes her body was going through that indicated the onset of puberty. To her, her body was betraying her.

"I don't want boobs mom. I just don't." S/her would fervently state.

As if by miracle of fate, my student that year told me about an endocrinologist at BC Children's Hospital who helped 'gender variant' children block the hormones of puberty until they felt ready to adopt the gender that fit them best. For some that meant starting testosterone, and never developing into a female body.

When I told Anneke about his doctor and this possible therapy, s/he immediately said "When can we see him?" About a month later we were in Dr. Metzger's office. He began our visit by asking which pronoun Anneke preferred to use - he or she. S/he said she. He asks this question at every visit. He also asks if Anneke is still the name s/he prefers to be called. He really understands our child. He asked Anneke at that visit what she wanted, as he said most kids who came to him had a clear idea of what they wanted from him. In her own words she said s/he had heard he could prescribe a medication that could prevent her from 'growing boobs' and developing other female characteristics. By the end of the appointment Anneke had her first injection of Lupron a hormone 'blocker' that is now largely considered a community standard in treating trans-gendered children/adolescents.

Anneke has been taking blockers for the past 9 months and has never been happier. No more headaches, no more missed school. As a parent it is a huge decision to make on behalf of your child. While there of no dangerous long term side effects, it feels like a huge step to block puberty in your 12 year old child. Now that we see how happy s/he is, however, it feel like a no brainer. I give Anneke her monthly injection. It cost over $500 per month. A small price to pay for your child's happiness.

At New Year's our family goes around and states what the best thing about the past year has been. For Anneke it was meeting Dr. Metzger - go figure.

Conference for families

2009-06-03T21:27:00.000-07:00

Anneke and I went to this conference last year. It's for families raising gender non-conforming children and for health professionals who support them. To say it was amazing is a huge understatement. Up until that conference, we had felt very alone and isolated in our journey as parents. I can only imagine how isolated Anneke feels at times. We also didn't have language like 'gender fluid', or tools to advocate in school and camp. It was like putting on an oxygen mask!

Anneke made friends, and met inspiring adults leading wonderful happy lives. There were gender free bathrooms!
We've registered for this year and the whole family is going. I highly recommend it.
For recordings of last years' conference workshops and for the agenda for this year check out their web-site www.genderspectrumfamily.org/

Great book by Stephanie Brill

2009-06-03T21:24:00.000-07:00

Pet peeve

2009-05-22T19:46:00.000-07:00

One of my biggest pet peeves as the parent of a gender fluid child is the well meaning, very femme group of moms who kindly reassure me that Anneke will "grow out" of her Tom-boy phase. The conversation often goes something like this.

"So Anneke, doesn't ever wear dresses?"
"Nope," I reply "ever since she could rip it off her body she has boycotted dresses."
"Such a Tom-boy. I was like that as a kid, played with boys; didn't like dresses but don't worry she'll grow out of it." says the couture corporate mom as she checks her hair in the daycare mirror.
Up until a few years ago my reply was, "We'll see."
Now I say, "I certainly hope not. She is amazing just the way she is."

One of the most offensive questions I've gotten has been "Aren't you worried she might grow up to be a lesbian?"
I remember replying, "I hope she does. Men can be a lot of work." You homophobic b*#@#!

That last part is what I wish I'd said.

The reality seems to be, kids are quite accepting. At her daycare in Toronto the kids who knew her from toddlerhood just accepted that that's the way s/he is. It was the parents who felt the need to probe and console me, that eventually she would conform and be 'normal' like the rest of us.

When Anneke would overhear some of these conversations I'd let her know that I hoped she would never change just to fit in with the other kids. "Those other girls are boring," I'd say "just look at them, they dress alike, talk alike and play the same things all the time... you are much more interesting. It is much better to be different that be like everyone else."
"I guess so," Anneke would reply with a serious face. Her sad face often broke my heart.

I am happy, however, to report to all those moms that in her 12+ years of life, s/he shows no signs of "growing out" of her gender-fluid ways.

Molly

2009-05-21T22:36:00.000-07:00

This is Molly. Anneke's little sister. Up until she entered our lives I was under a bit of a delusion that my cool, feminist mom'ness contributed to raising a tough, butch, non-girly girl. I was deeply proud of this fact and often took credit for having such a unique little girl. I have hairy legs, don't wear make-up, never bought Barbie's and steered clear of most things pink. Well Molly has taught me that I have nothing to do with it. It is clearly nature, not nurture.

Much to her sister's horror, Molly is a princess. If she could cover herself in sparkles and dress like a drag queen every day she would. She is my mother incarnated - anyone who has met my mother will understand.

Despite the four and a half year age difference and the clear differences in gender identity, they love eachother deeply. We moved a couple years ago so that each kid could have their own bedroom. Within two nights they were moving furnature so that they could sleep in the same room, often in the same bed. Anneke even tollerates the pink room to be with her sister. She has covered her side of the room with posters of Sidney Crosby, Mats Sundin and numerous Sports Illustrated cut-outs.

Last September when Anneke and I returned from the Gender Spectrum Families Conference (www.genderspectrumfamily.org) we both learned how important siblings are to the journey of a transgendered child. Anneke came home and asked Molly how she would feel if s/he decided to transition from female to male. Molly just shrugged, and said "It would be fine. You're already a boy - you're just Anneke." We laughed as a family. To Molly it was simple. She spoke of pure acceptance and love. Nothing to her would really change. It was a short conversation. "Can I finish watching Hannah Montanna now?"
"Sure." I said.
Molly is a gift to us all.

Anneke's Birth

2009-05-21T22:23:00.000-07:00

I love to tell the story of Anneke’s birth, and as a midwife I tell it often. I had an uneventful planned pregnancy. Unlike many pregnant women I chose not to have any genetic screening or an ultrasound. “Don’t you want to know if it’s a boy or a girl?” everyone would ask. No, I’d always reply. As I often say even today, life doesn’t give us too many pleasant surprises, this would be one of them.

As any expectant parent knows, however, this is a choice that comes with challenges. Finding “gender neutral” baby clothes is not easy. The indoctrination of gender starts at birth. We had a wardrobe of green, yellow, purple and cream. We lived in a one bedroom apartment at the time so “decorating the nursery” really wasn’t on our radar.

I went into early labour on Tuesday and by Wednesday evening, I called my midwife insisting she help me get things going or stop, so I could get some sleep. I had planned a homebirth, and wanted to avoid any intervention that would bring me to the hospital – unless necessary of course. My midwife brought over an herbal labour tincture which rocked me into active labour my midnight Wednesday.

I thought I’d be one of those stoic labouring women, rocking, and moaning with the rhythm of my body. I thought I’d relish in massage, touch and words of encouragement. I was loud, borderline rude to all my helpers (especially my partner) and no one could touch me. In the bath I remember my doula saying ‘that contraction is gone, just breathe and think about your baby.” My head spun around like a scene from the Exorcist and I barked, “I don’t care about my baby! Just make this stop.” I was in transition.

By 7:30am Thursday I was ready to push. My partner supported me from behind as I squatted on the birth stool. I used to re-enact this scene with A. when she was a toddler, and she would laugh and giggle as I acted it out. I pushed, and pushed, and pushed and out came my beautiful baby.

The midwives quickly wrapped her and Ben and I gazed at this amazing bright eyed creature before us. We kept saying “look at you! You’re here.” There was a quiet hush in the room as we greeted our new baby. No one, except us, uttered a word. Finally, about 5 minutes later, as we were waiting for my placenta to birth, the back-up midwife quietly asked “Is it a boy or a girl?” Oh my goodness, all this time wondering, waiting and guessing, and we didn’t think to look! It occurred to me at that moment that it really didn’t matter. My baby was beautiful and the love I felt was overwhelming. How inconsequential this piece of information was and yet given such importance. We gently unwrapped the blanket and looked. “It’s a girl” we announced, “its Anneke.”
And so began our journey 12+ years ago….

Bathrooms

2009-04-04T23:28:00.000-07:00

I didn't realize until a couple years ago, how much of a big deal bathrooms were for Anneke. Since s/he cut her hair short, and was old enough not to be accompanied all the time, s/he had negative experiences going into the women's washroom. Her coping strategy was to ask her little sister M. to come with her, as her entry pass into the washroom. Instintively M. seemed to understand and always come along. She still will when asked

We gravitate towards restaurants, swimming pools, and venues that have universal changerooms and family bathrooms. Most families don't worry about such things.
In most places now A. goes into the men's washroom. I am occasionally worried about this. S/he and I went to a Cannucks game recently, and s/he left to go to the bathroom. Hockey crowds, men and lots of beer, does not make a mom warm and fuzzy about sending thier kid alone into the washroom. It was fine, but it reminded me of safety issues and the need for more family friendly washrooms.

At school A. confesses that s/he only uses that bathroom when parents aren't around to comment, and s/he makes sure the kids there all know her. If s/he can s/he holds it until s/he gets home. I was relieved to learn that familes of other gender non-conforming kids face this issue all the time as well. It makes you wonder why we separate the bathrooms anyway, and who are these women policing the washroom making kids feel bad for chosing a bathroom they feel comfortable in. My "mama bear" instincts just want to slap them. When I've said that to A., s/he is the voice of restraint. "They don't know mom, just be nice," s/he'd say.
M. her little sister (pictured above with A.) sees it the clearest. "That's just stupid" she states when we explain why some people comment on A. using the women's bathroom. "Who cares?" she says. Who cares indeed.

Hockey hero

2009-04-01T21:59:00.000-07:00

For those who don't already know, hockey is A's passion. This year s/he has been a goalie, instead of defense. S/he has played since s/he was 4 years old. S/he is currently in a 'girls' league and loves it. The past 2 years s/he has also played in a North Vancouver c0-ed league in the spring. Since s/he has asked us not to correct or declare her gender to anyone, most of last spring passed by without anyone realizing s/he was natally female. The rest of the team were boys. Other mom's made of point of telling me how polite my son was, and how helpful he was to his team-mates. I'd say 'thank you' knowing what a great kid I have.
Needless to say, there were some shocked little boys and parents when they realized this amazing player was, in fact, female.
The past two weekends have been spend at two separate hockey tournaments. The pictures here are from one with her Pee Wee Team - the Vancouver Angels and the Richmond tournament. S/he won Most Valuable Player at the final game of the tournament. S/he is such an amazing goalie, s/he was asked to play goalie for the Vancouver Angels Midget team with girls aged 15-19. They adore her, and she loves doing it.
One of A's biggest worries about considering transitioning one day to male is that she might no longer be allowed to play hockey with the Angels. I have told her not to worry. The team would never let her go. On the brighter side, for A, she reminded me that if s/he were male, s/he could play in the NHL. Watch out Cannucks - here comes my kid!

Anneke and her iPod

2009-03-31T23:11:00.000-07:00

Gender what?

2009-03-31T22:54:00.000-07:00

When I tell folks A. is gender fluid I am most often greeted by a polite smile and an uncomfortable pause. Understandable really... I just learned the term about a year ago at the Gender Spectrum Families conference in Seattle (www.genderspectrumfamily.org). It fit so perfectly to A. and her current gender identity. S/he agrees too. A. was one of the few kids at the conference who did not feel trans-gendered, trapped in the body of the gender they did not identify as. Some days she feels male, others more female.

I found this great definition;

gender fluid
Gender Fluid is a gender identity best described as a dynamic mix of boy and girl. A person who is Gender Fluid may always feel like a mix of the two traditional genders, but may feel more boy some days, and more girl other days.
Being Gender Fluid has nothing to do with which set of genitalia one has, nor their sexual orientation.
No, I'm not a boy, and I'm not a girl either. I am gender fluid.

I frequently ask A. if she prefers being referred to as he or she.
"I don't really care," is her most common reply.
As a parent, I have to say this in between place is hard. From birth you are asked if you had a girl or a boy - a decision is made and an identity is assigned (whether we like it or not.) I often catch myself feeling impatient, just wanting her to decide on a gender. It's clearly not that simple.
I remind myself that its not about me - its about Anneke. S/he is gender fluid and happy. How hard it must be to be 12 and be gender fluid. How brave it is to firmly, and with certainty maintain that gender fluidity despite the intense pressure from society and peers.
At the conference midwife, author and educator Stephanie Brill said it best - "Listen to your child, they know who they are, it it often won't fit into our preconceived notions of gender - they know who they are, we just have to listen and learn."

the underwear affair

2009-02-25T01:09:00.000-08:00

So, as anyone who has raised a toddler knows, one of the major milestones is toilet training. For months we built up the joy of “big-girl underwear”. Finally we had succeeded in accident free days and made the pilgrimage to Zellers to buy "big-girl" underwear. I told Anneke she could pick anything she wanted. I think she was about 2, maybe 2 and a half. She quietly scrutinized the array of choices for a long time – Barbie, Strawberry shortcake, flowers, girl-power…who knew there were so many choices? As she moved further down the isle her eyes lit up and she reached for her choice – Superman underwear, with the matching t-shirt.

“This is what I want, mommy”

“But, sweetie, that’s for boys.” I nervously replied.

“You said I could pick anything I want!”

Once we established, nothing in the girls section would do for this special day, I bought the Superman underwear. She wore the T-shirt under her clothes for over a week. We had to keep washing that underwear, since it was the only pair she would wear.

Since then we reverted briefly do girls “sporty” underwear, then to boxer shorts (men’s).

One of our close friends shared that she has been wearing boxers for years, and will never go back – they are so comfortable. She and her dad now fight over who’s boxers are who's –it’s very cute.

Like father, like son

2009-02-21T16:35:00.000-08:00

I love this picture. B and Anneke, walk alike, dress alike and fight over socks and underwear on a regular basis. People often ask if we plan to have another child, to have a son. B. (who is a man of few words) simply replies "I have a son....Anneke." Unless they know our family well, they look confused. Then B. simply says "Two is plenty."

Allow me to intoduce...

2009-02-18T18:51:00.000-08:00

This blog will introduce you to my amazing courageous kid and our family. Born 12 years ago, natally female - Anneke is gender fluid, and currently deciding which gender s/he would like to become. For anyone who has known A. this is not a shock or recent discovery. Before s/he could speak s/he would rip the dresses of her body. The quintessential "Tom-boy". From age three onward s/he had often referred to herself as male, and is currently toying with male names and images of herself as an adult. For any of you also raising gender fluid (often called gender variant) children, you know the issues - bathrooms, bathing suits, schools, puberty, hormones, depression....you know the issues. A. supports this blog, and will read and approve every entry. As you will learn, s/he is one of the most inspiring and courageous kids you will every meet. As you can imagine, we have been parenting without a map for the past 12 years - I hope through this blog to share some of our challenges. We, her dad and I, have by no means done everything right, but we have tried...as every good parent does.
Welcome to our story.