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My Avatar is a Boy

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One of the most fun things about getting a Wii was the ability to create a personalized Mii. Mine had glasses and dark hair, Danielle’s had big girly lashes and a cute, pink outfit, Richard’s sported jeans and a t-shirt, and Olivia’s — well, Olivia’s Mii was a guy. Hmmm.

boy avatarWhen the “girls” were little one of the high end department stores had a Newborn Nursery Boutique where one could adopt a doll baby and buy newborn-sized doll outfits. It was the sweetest place. You viewed the “babies” through the nursery window and selected the one you wanted to adopt. Then, the nurse brought your baby to the changing table, diapered, powdered and dressed her and handed the precious life-like doll over to the new mommy. Somewhere, we have pictures of Danielle rocking her baby before we left the nursery. Of course, adoption papers were part of the package. This baby was a girl and was aptly named and dressed. It wasn’t long before Olivia wanted one too.

So, off we went to the Newborn Nursery Boutique to adopt another baby. Olivia chose a newborn that looked more like a boy baby and gave him a boy name. Of course, all the outfits were more boy-ish in style. Hmmm.

Simms has been a popular video game in our house for years. Both kids loved to create fictional families, build neighborhoods and villages and experience an imaginary world without much risk. I am sure by now you’ve guessed that Olivia’s main character was a pretty buff looking dude. Hmmm.

I am a creature of habit. When we go to the mall, I always park in the same lot and enter through the same store. It’s my comfort zone. I know where I am going and how to get around. (This is my mother’s influence.) So, time after time, we walked through the children’s department in Lord & Taylor as we made our way to the mall’s center court. I love this department. They had and still do have the best little girls’ clothes. Their buyer does a fantastic job. From dresses to leggings to itty-bitty newborn frilly diaper covers, it is a happy place for me. Every time we walked into the store, Olivia would stop and longing look at the little outfits…the little boy vests and suits and play clothes. She would say to me, “I love the tiny vests. Look how cute they are.” Hmmm.

My kids played with Barbie dolls. They had blond ones, dark-skinned ones, long haired ones, beach Barbie, professional Barbie, “mommy” Barbie and Ken Barbie, among others. Guess who wanted the Ken doll. Hmmm.

Looking back, I clearly see that Hunter began living vicariously through his Avatars and world of make-believe from a very early age. Hmmm.

 

 

My Heart is Full

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rubik's cubeAt precisely 1:13 pm the call came. How did I know it was the one we’d been waiting for? Only identified as Ontario, Canada, it would have been a unique coincidence for the call to be from anyone other than my son.

“I’ve gotta go.” Without missing a beat and disconnecting the incoming call, I was actually able to end my current call, and accept the incoming urgency.

“Ola, Chica,” came the upbeat voice from my camper on the other end. I would take it. Would I rather have heard, “Hi Mom or shalom, Ima?” It really didn’t matter.

In the five minutes he had on the foreign pay phone, Hunter excitedly told us about the 8-day, 52 km hike with 9 others including the part where one of the counselors pulled him from certain death when he caught his foot in a crevice. Honestly, I am so glad that I hear about this stuff after the fact and am not there viewing the experiences in real time.

“I feel like I’ve known these people my entire life,” he shared when asked about acceptance and if he felt ok being open with his fellow campers.

As a kid, I didn’t really like being away from home. I was not even really keen on a neighborhood sleepover. I never strayed too far from mommy and even when given the chance to experience camp did not really find it to my liking. The idea of no plumbing and having to do your “business” in the woods definitely is a deal breaker in my world.

For Hunter, this is where life begins. He lives all year for the first day of camp. Each year gets better for him. It is his safe place; his nirvana; his Zen garden. I think the camp reunions are planned before the bus rolls into the parking lot signaling the end of yet another amazing summer. These bonds are for life.

For Hunter, a kid who needs structure yet the freedom to be independent, spending six weeks in the woods without so much as a watch to indicate a meal time, camp is the perfect place. He has responsibility and rules yet the opportunity to be carefree, explore the finest mother nature has to offer and the ability to open up and really get to know himself and others in a way that would not be possible in another setting.

Hearing his voice, I marvel at how grown up he sounds. It’s only been two weeks since he left but somehow it feels as if a lifetime has passed. I’d like to believe that he needed the call as much as I did. Of course, he took the opportunity to ask that we send food (yes they do get fed) — I am guessing what he really wants is junk food, treats, stuff to remind him that he is after all, still a kid.

Most days are filled with worry for him about one thing or another. However, today, for now, I can take a breath, let myself relax and know that he is getting what he needs. Right now, my heart is full.

PS. Yes, Hunter solved this Rubik’s cube.

Legal Name Change

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One of the camp counselors called the other day to give us a few last minute reminders. He wanted to make sure that we send a brown bag lunch (for the bus ride), bug “dope”, some spending money and Olivia’s passport, among other things. ALARM BELLS. He also wanted to let us know that he was looking forward to having Olivia up at camp (ALARM BELLS) and that we should arrive by 6:30 a.m. Monday morning. 

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Of course, he was looking forward to meeting Olivia. Hunter is registered for camp as Olivia. We have not yet changed his name legally. I reminded the youngish sounding counselor that while the name “Olivia” is on all the official forms, she is transgender and prefers male pronouns and goes by Hunter. “Oh, Hunter.” he said with some recognition. Apparently, he had been told about Hunter but did not make the connection between Hunter and Olivia. WHEW. Glad we got that cleared up before the bus on Monday morning.

Recently, we had to send official school transcripts to a doctor’s office. I got this email in response, “Thank you for sending these. However, I think you sent your daughter’s transcripts.”

At first I was confused. Wasn’t I supposed to send the transcripts? Then, it hit me. The transcripts say Olivia. 

It is mortifying (for Hunter) to sit in a doctor’s office waiting room and hear them call, “Olivia, we’re ready for you.”

From what I understand, it is not all that complicated to change one’s name legally…just a bunch of paperwork including filing a petition, a $150 fee and a court appearance. We can get his name changed on the birth certificate as well. And, then there’s social security. Oh, and the passport. It is tricky to travel because the photo on the passport is of Olivia with long “girl” hair. This really is all fairly straightforward. HA.

Do not confuse name change with changing the gender marker. This is a big deal. And, I don’t believe we can do that until sex reassignment surgery takes place or at least “top” surgery. This is where breasts are removed to achieve a masculine chest appearance. This usually doesn’t happen until the age of eighteen.

I have a friend, Sarah*,whose son is also FTM trans, who has already gone through the legal name change with her son. Though her son and Hunter are the same age, they are about 6 months to a year ahead of us. She has been a great resource for me. My friend and I met when we were at the beginning of our journey. I marvelled at how she embraced the process of dealing with a transgender child. Sarah seemed so together. It was really impressive. Her son is her only child and she was determined to do everything under the sun to aid his transition. But, there was something she said to me in that first meeting, our first of many cups of coffee, that stuck with me.

“I would rather have a live son, than a dead daughter.” As an Emergency Medicine physician, she had seen her share of bad stuff…not to mention the above average suicide rate among trans teens. For months that statement reverberated in my head. Sarah put things in perspective for me. I needed that.

So, it is time for a legal name change. It is the least I can do for my son to make his life just a tiny bit better on a daily basis. 

*Not her real name

http://courts.mi.gov/self-help/center/casetype/pages/namechangesh.aspx