As we watched the new family of downy headed blue jays in our front yard, I was reminded of the parallels between teaching our children self-sufficiency and a bird having the courage to push its babies from the nest. We strive to give our children wings so they can soar into adulthood and our feathered friends trust their instincts enough to know that when given a nudge, the babies’ wing power will kick-in.

So, what happens when that bond between mother and child, mama bird and baby is broken?

Yesterday we discoverd one of the sweet, newly independent birds on the wicker rocker on our front porch. Something was wrong — he definitely didn’t belong there. The rest of its nest-mates were happily perched on branches in our Magnolia bush about 30 feet from the porch. Wearing leather work gloves, Richard gently carried this marvel of nature back to its family. He encouraged this baby to latch onto a branch to rejoin the family. Unsuccessful, he placed the blue jay on the ground within eye sight of the others.

What was going on? Did the mother bird choose not to protect one of her lovelies? Did the baby do something to make her angry? Did he leave the nest too soon and cause Mama Jay to punish him?

We watched the baby for a few hours, concerned that he would not survive. Clearly, its mother was not going to rescue it and provide the nurture and care it needed. Early in the afternnoon, our baby stopped moving. He couldn’t survive without the support and care of its mom.

So many have said to me, “You are an incredible parent. Hunter is lucky to have you as his mother,”  of course, referring to how we are dealing with his coming out as transgender over a year ago.

While I appreciate the feedback and positive reinforcement, to me there is no other way. Our job is to love and nurture and nourish and guide them so when the time comes, they can spread their wings and make their way in the world. If we “push them from the nest” too soon and abandon them when they need us most, how will they know that they are worthy, that they are loved? How will they survive if we turn our backs on our children?

Timing is everything. There truly is a fine line between preparing our children and gently guiding them towards their own path versus opening the door at 60 mph. I cannot ever understand a parent turning his or her back on the most precious gift they’ll ever know.

Make no mistake, what we are dealing with is not easy. However, no matter how hard it is for me, for Hunter’s dad, for his sister, it is even more difficult for him. Being transgender is no walk in the park. So, as a mother, it is my obligation to make this difficult journey alongside him and to help Hunter gain the confidence he needs to go out in the world and be who he was meant to be. And, until he is ready to take that path of independence, I will be right along side him every step of the way.

A friend said, “yes, Hunter is lucky to have you, but you are lucky to have each other.

 

Every teenaged girl I know is, in part, defined by her long, shiny, flowing, flat-ironed locks. Long hair was a prize for my fuzzy headed “blondie” who was bald for her first two plus years. She wanted long hair so badly. Finally, finally, her hair grew and grew. She saw her sister’s beautiful, thick mane and perhaps for a minute dreamed that she, too, could have the same. Unfortunately, the fine, silky strands were so wispy that all they could do was tangle mere seconds after styling.

As Olivia began the journey to become Hunter, she started trimming her hair, inch by inch until the ponytail that hung daily between her shoulder blades became a very stylish, chin-length bob. Just as I was starting to get used to the shorter hair, Hunter began a relentless campaign to go really, really short…right before 8th grade graduation.

I was stopped in my tracks.

“Don’t you want to wait until after graduation?” I asked.

I wasn’t in a place mentally or emotionally to see my daughter at middle school graduation dressed as a boy with a boy’s haircut.

The funny thing is that I had so many people come up to me and gush about Olivia’s CUTE, short, trendy hairstyle that showed off her wickedly penetrating, multi-colored eyes.

In hindsight, I see that once there are words and labels that accompany all of the feelings, there’s an urgency for transgender individuals to take action. Hunter wanted to be at graduation in his authentic skin wrapped in a tapestry of maleness.

Let there be no mistake. I was sad; sad that my child did not look like the other budding young ladies that we’d known since kindergarten; sad that I was buying boys’ dress slacks rather than a dress and heels; sad that my daughter was slipping away.

Olivia was transitioning at a pace that felt comfortable. For that, I was happy and proud and awed. While we were really no where ready for what was to come, we were prepared to let it unfold; to let Hunter emerge; to better understand what it meant to have a transgender child.