I’ve been giving a lot of thought lately to the notion of “grieving” the child who we’ve left behind; the pre-trans-identified child. So many parents feel such profound loss. I am trying to be sympathetic and to understand what they must be experiencing because I cannot relate.

Before my son came out as transgender and we believed we had two daughters, life was not sugar and spice and everything nice. As a mother, I struggled to parent this lost child. Outbursts riddled with rage, anger so intense you could taste it, a bottomless well that love could not fill; this was what I faced.

Fussy. Difficult. Disconnected.

My love never wavered; however, I was challenged to find the strength to understand the path this child needed to take.

Rarely was my love returned. She was closed off emotionally unable to open her heart to the possibility of letting go.

It’s funny – the other day as we were relaxing, I noticed something about my teen son that I hadn’t yet seen. As the sun peaked out from behind the heavy clouds and flashed its warm smile on my child’s face, I noticed another sign that my son was becoming a young man. Only a mother would notice such subtle changes but there, plain as day, was the beginning of a mustache; facial hair.

I’ve anticipated this event for some time with mixed emotions. We’d been cruising along the transition journey and had settled into complacency. I was good with this stage. The deeper voice happened gradually. I was really good with where we were going; with where my son was headed. But, I worried about this next phase of puberty. Facial hair. Hairy arms and legs. Chest hair. That would be weird. I was sure of that.

And now, I have to admit that this new hint at what’s to come, made me excited. I want Hunter to fit in. I want him to look like the other boys in high school; the boys born with male bodies who haven’t needed medical intervention to go through male puberty.

As I watch his confidence grow I see how he is developing as a person; a human being filled with empathy and insight and kindness. Truth is, I barely remember the daughter I thought I had. Every once in a while a picture appears from those days; an image of a little girl who hadn’t yet figured out that puberty wasn’t going to be kind. I almost don’t know that child. It is such a strange, weird, foreign experience to gaze at the “before” pictures. I can’t ache for that child nor yearn for what once was.

The gratitude I feel as I watch my son emerge is so much more powerful than any sense of loss I might have. This is where I focus. I don’t/won’t/can’t let sorrow seep into our lives, into this extraordinary journey.

So, for those of you out there (and I know many of you) who are struggling to let go, who grieve for what was or what could’ve been, please don’t let that sadness take over. Don’t allow the “what ifs” to rule your thoughts. Be present for your family; anticipate the future; be open to new possibilities. This will fill you up.

Happy 2016 to everyone. May the new year bring peace, love and joy. xo

If you have a transgender child or are a trans* individual, there are a lot of resources out there. Do you want to text or chat with an Ally Mom? Sometimes you just need a loving ear to get you through a tough day. Also, check out Stand with Trans for a list of surgeons or LGBTQ college friendly list or other great resources and events.

Want to be an Ally Mom? Contact Janna for information.