Keep calm and carry on

This final countdown is so difficult.  I try to remember if it's difficult for me, how HARD it must be for DJ.  But, in true self-centered fashion, I come right back to how stressed I feel.  I'm such a lech!

DJ seems to be, for all intents and purposes, "nesting."  This is a word that I'm not sure translates to other cultures;  however, in light of the fact that it is likely a universal feminine trait, I am certain women of other countries can relate.  We usually see this quality in pregnant mothers right before birth of the baby is due.  We clean, we tidy, we arrange, all in preparation for the life changing event that is about to occur.

DJ, to a certain degree, has been nesting. The girl is, otherwise, a perpetual mess maker.  Her room is constantly in a state of disaster.  It truly looks as if a tornado came through it.  And her bathroom is ridiculous.  Yesterday, however, for some strange reason, she started cleaning.  Usually we have to make her do it.  For her to take the initiative is a bit unusual. Let me state it more accurately:  for her to take the initiative is highly irregular!!


On other fronts, she had her first sleepover with her best friend, Sister Chromatid recently and it was like "old times."  This is the first time in 4 months that she has been in the company of someone other than Bulldog or me for more than an hour or two, not including staff at the hospital.  She was giddy and silly and laughed so hard she spit, according to Barbie, Sister Chromatid's mom.

The next morning, I took both girls with me to a fundraiser with a "pirate" theme.  DJ looked adorable in her subtly alluring pirate get up but I could see her retreat into her shell as she came in contact with more and more strangers, especially when it was time to eat her breakfast.  She just wasn't up to the task that morning and felt embarrassed and disappointed in herself at not being up to the task.  We told her that all of us bite off more than we can chew some days and oftentimes, it's best to just back off and try again another day.  Bulldog picked her up, brought her home, she took her therapeutic bath and hung out with Mimi the rest of the day.

She's been off her hormones for five days and the mood changes have been minimal.  But DJ has never been one to have wild alterations in her mood anyway.  She's just varying degrees of stoic no matter what.  If I didn't know better, I would swear she is British.  And to any of you in the UK who are reading this, I mean that as a compliment in a "steady heads will prevail" kind of way.

On the surgery front, the surgeon is in receipt of the letters from the therapist and psychologist, so I can breathe a sigh of relief.  The surgeon's office has had to reassure me a number of times that everything is moving along properly. What do you do for people who soothe your neediness?  Are flowers appropriate?  Or does the fact that you've written a very large check suffice?  I don't know....

Bulldog touched base with the psychologist yesterday by phone.

He said to me, "There is one thing she wants us to do as soon as the surgery is over."  My heart sank, because I am constantly expecting SOMETHING to derail our plans somehow (I'm such a "negative nancy" lately).

"What's that?"  I replied.

"As soon as DJ comes out of surgery, she wants us to call her and let her know how DJ is."

I almost cried.

Once the surgery is done then, maybe, and only with their permission, can we share the names of all these incredible professionals who have made it their mission in life to help transgender folks achieve the lives they want and need. But until then, I just want to keep everything on the down low.  Fly under the radar, so to speak.  Which makes me regret that I shared some of my blog entries on Facebook last year....sigh.  The more I learn, the more I learn how much I have to learn.

Many thanks to some of my blog readers (friends) who have contacted me by my gmail email address.  I sincerely hope we can meet someday.

That's all for now. Be back in the next few days if I have not experienced some sort of meltdown while DJ keeps that stiff upper lip.

Shopping for enemas

We are in the phase of preparing for the actual surgery.  There is a shopping list that must be obtained and so DJ and I addressed this yesterday in Target and Walmart.

Here are some of the more exciting items on the list:

Magnesium citrate (a laxative)
Fleet enema (same purpose, but more fast acting)
Sanitary napkins
Anti-biotic ointment
Vitamin K

Damn it-nary a fun thing on the list!!!  OK, not entirely true since we will be picking up some of DJ's favorite movies for her to view, as well, and did find a cute "Tinkerbell" PJ set, which we had to get two of so we could bring one to Sister Chromatid, who is a big Tinkerbell fan.  We certainly will consider books but the first few days post-op, it is doubtful that she will be able to focus on words through her drug-induced haze.

We passed by the bathing suit section and I suggested we window shop, since she wants to wait till after the surgery to actually buy a bikini.  She was visibly excited at the thought of not having to drape her midsection.  I am so excited for her.

She was making all kinds of cute, smart @$$ remarks all day and was obviously in fine form eventhough all we purchased was about $200 worth of medical supplies and the aforementioned PJs.  We got home and packed the medical supplies in their own suitcase and even that was interesting to her.

Well, of course it is. This is all preparation for the final step in her physical transition.

However, today also marks the first day without her hormones, so she may experience what her doctors are referring to as a "menopause" complete with hot flashes and mood swings.  That's ok, she and I can experience that ride together, as I am in the beginning stages of the same process.  Poor Bulldog....

Aw crap, I gotta apologize

OMG-I think I may be suffering from schizophrenia.  One minute, I feel just fine, the next I'm super sensitive and blowing something out of proportion.  Or I'm confused because I feel like I have a right to be upset or put out when Bulldog does something insensitive, and then I get all discombobulated when I remember that he's feeling uber stressed right now too.  Then, I feel bad for getting upset and instead think about how terrible he must be feeling for having upset me.

Except that I can't be really sure of that because, in typical man fashion, he has retreated to his office and is saying nothing.  I hear his computer keys clicking away. I would love to entertain the fantasy that he is writing me a note of apology but that would just be getting my hopes up for  nothing.  I have been married to this man for over ten years and have loved him for nearing 13.  I know what he is likely, or in this case, not likely to do.

I woke up this morning feeling very sensitive.  Over coffee, when he made some joke, I informed him of this in, truly, the nicest way.  Not in a "stay out of my way" or a "you've been warned" manner, but in a "please understand I'm feeling a bit fragile" manner.  Could he not remember this before he criticized me, especially after I had gotten all dressed up for a date night that we've had only once previously in the last three months?  I was in no mood to have dinner with him after that and told him to take me home.  He lost even more points, poor man, when he made no other attempt to make up, other than a quick face-saving "I'm sorry" as he pulled up to the front of the restaurant to let me out while he parked, right before I insisted he take me home.

Yes, this is what I'm doing on a Saturday night when I could have been having dinner with my husband-I am writing to you fine folks.  No offense, but I'd rather be sipping a pinot grigio and waiting for my salmon.

We got home and I immediately changed out of my black dress and heels, put on a tank top and sweat  pants (yeah, right, that will punish him) and ate a dinner of two boiled eggs during which time I told him how he had now dropped the ball repeatedly in my eyes because:

1)  he criticized me

2)  he didn't offer an appropriate apology

3)  he didn't try to convince me to stay

4)  he forgot that I needed him to handle me gently today

and finally, (yes, there is an end to my bitching)

5)  he spoiled the night entirely


OMG-can DJ's surgery possibly get here any faster so I can dispense with my theatrics?

I proceed to walk to our room where I find some chore or other to occupy my time and I'm trying to hold onto my self-righteous indignation, when an annoyingly mature thought pops into my head:

You know, Bulldog is feeling pretty stressed himself.  You could consider that....


Damn it all to hell.  Now I can't even be properly mad at him anymore because I have realized my part in this little drama.  And I can't possibly go put on that little black dress again because I would feel like a complete ass.  The night is what it is.  I have to let it go.  This evening is definitely collateral damage in what is clearly a bigger battle ahead. 


Why share my ridiculousness with you all?  In spite of our combined stupidity tonight, I think overall Bulldog and I are doing a fairly decent job. So, if you, as parents, are supporting your child as he or she is transitioning, and sometimes drop the ball in how you handle the stress,consider that there are some fairly normal folks residing somewhere in the USA who are acting a little bit like overgrown toddlers from time to time because they, too, are not perfect;  transition of any kind is not easy for anyone involved, whether it's the transition that happens when you give birth to a baby girl, or  the transition where the person you knew previously as your son figuratively gives birth to herself, as a grown up girl.  In fact, in both cases it can be downright painful.  But just when you start to think it's all about you.....remember, others are in this boat too.  You're not the only one struggling.  OK-lesson learned.  Excuse me now while I go apologize to Bulldog.

Thanks for sharing

I have just heard from the most incredible woman who is a DJ supporter.  She contacted my email account to share some of her experiences post-surgery and to send love and encouragement to DJ.

This is incredibly good stuff.

I am reminded again and again how information is power.  And not the negative power that one wields to control others, but rather the positive kind that allows one to have more control over her own life and her own destiny.  Both DJ's and my own.

Ostensibly, I started this blog, I thought, for DJ, or for others in her shoes, or for other mothers in my shoes. But really, I think I did it for me because writing it nourishes me and then hearing from others  nourishes me even more.

"E" from somewhere in the USA shared this:

The first week will be the toughest but what most people have no clue about is how much courage it takes for kids like DJ to come forward and then with the help of a great family take this nightmare to its final cure because quite simply after this DJ will just be another young girl and then a woman and nothing else. She already has immense courage so facing the recovery down should be something she can handle.

Then she ended with:

When you get her home do not let her mope around after the first week or so home. Get her friends over. Get her doing something that makes her feel like just a normal teenage girl. To us that is very important.

Give DJ my love and tell her this is actually the easy part. The hard part was getting here and she has done that.

We are also fortunate enough to be in contact with "A" from the other side of the world who offered this:

I know we've never met and I don't want to sound like a creep but I honestly wish I could be there to help. To look after DJ if you needed to be at work, to take some of the pressure off in any way I could. Sadly all I can do is send my thoughts and best wishes your way.

Please know that anything I CAN do I will. 

Years ago, I had this incredible experience in a post office, which I have, obviously, not forgotten. I was standing at a counter with a woman in her 50's and a gentlemen likely in his 60's.  The woman was wearing this lovely perfume that smelled like actual roses.  I commented on how wonderful her perfume smelled and she delightfully thanked me and left the counter to continue her business with the post office employees.  At this point, I heard this deep resonant voice say, "Do you have any idea how you may have just affected the course of her day?"  I looked up and the older gentleman appeared as if he had come from Eastern Europe 50 years prior because of his manner of dressing and his beard.  I don't remember my response to him but I do remember thinking, "Do you have any idea how you have just affected the course of my day?"

This is what sharing information does-it can change the course of our days and our lives for the better.  I'm going to keep sharing and I hope you will too-if not with me, then with others whose lives will be better for it.  Thanks for the sharing thus far.  

Not being superwoman is ok

It's nearing nine o'clock in the morning and I've cried twice already today.  WTF?!

I slept in till a bit after seven thirty this morning and attempted to call a girlfriend to meet for coffee and when that didn't work out, I decided it was just as well, and sat down to do some work from home.  I grabbed a pad of paper and flashed to a memory of my father's mother helping me with homework nearly 40 years ago and it made me cry.

Do you ever start crying and have no idea why?  Maybe I'm just neurotic, but I have to know WHY.  I began to search my thoughts and feelings to figure it out.  It was like a recipe:  there was a few parts regret-

"Why didn't I spend more time with her when she was alive?"

A few more parts of seeing how she must have loved me (which I hadn't really thought about and is probably fodder for another blog, another day) because she left the fun of the family gathering downstairs to come find me, alone, at Christmastime, doing my homework, upstairs.

And many parts gratitude at having this memory of her, and of a moment that she and I shared, that was still so vivid and important to me so many decades later.  Some part of me was certain that she was thinking of me while I remembered her and that made me feel loved....which made me boo-hoo.

Then Bulldog phoned me from work and I began to tell him about how a conversation he and I had had the evening before got me upset.  But I felt so unreasonably upset that I didn't pursue it because I knew I was being unreasonable and I didn't want to subject him to it at ten in the evening.  And in telling him about it, I started to cry again-not because of WHAT I had found upsetting the night before but because of the fact that I actually was upset by it.  In my mind, it felt like I had taken a huge step backward.  Like I had regressed.

OMG-this is why I love writing this blog.  When I write, it forces my brain to be a bit more orderly and then I make more sense to me.  Of course I'm regressing-this is normal human behavior when one is stressed. I literally just taught this concept in the last few weeks.  This is a case of "Teacher, teach thyself," to paraphrase a phrase.

DJ is 3 weeks from her surgery.  This weighs heavily on all of our minds.  DJ has professed to not wanting to address anything in the next few weeks because she feels so consumed by it.  Bulldog and I are acting in the exact opposite manner:  we are trying to address everything in the next few weeks so that we will be prepared for....well....anything that could conceivably become a problem:  work, the pets, transportation, caring for DJ, getting there, getting home.

As Bulldog and I chatted on the phone this morning, he was trying to reassure me that my weepiness was to be expected because we are all so stressed.  This surgery is a big deal.  I have never before put my life on hold for an entire two weeks for anything.  I have never had a child go through a major surgery before.  I have never before made such a huge decision on behalf of someone else in the face of potential, if not actual, disapproval, before.  And that's just the tip of the iceberg because I will not even allow myself to think of what it's going to be like seeing DJ in those first few hours or days after her surgery when she will be bruised, swollen and in pain.  I will deal with that when it happens.

But before then, as I experience this stress and worry, (and if anyone tries to tell me not to worry, please don't.  I'm DJ's mother.  She is having a type of major surgery that is practically unheard of for someone her age. Plus, I'm just hard-wired to worry, in spite of my best efforts.) I feel as if I have very few people with whom I can share this.  My family is supportive but two members have expressed concern about this being the right time for DJ to have this surgery.  Bean, I think, is just plain scared about something going wrong, but I don't think she has an opinion about whether it's the "right" time or not.

And to many other folks, a "sex change operation" is too freaky to really talk about.  Maybe it's just me, but I get that feeling so I don't broach the particulars with anyone really, except Sister Chromatid's mom, whom I'll call Barbie because she has a face and figure similar to that renowned doll.  I think many people are ok with a person who has made an outward transition, but in the end, cutting off a you-know-what seems a little strange to them.

And DJ is very young.  I know of one person younger than she is to have gone through this surgery. Perhaps there are more, but we haven't heard of them.  The surgeon and other members of Team DJ are supportive, but I'm picking up a vibe that they are a teensy bit edgy about this because DJ is young compared to most people who have gender confirmation surgery. And in the end, who is making the decision on her behalf?  Bulldog and I.

It's one thing for me to elect to go under the knife to have my body be consistent with how I feel inside.  I have actually done that once.  If something were to go wrong, I made the decision and I would have had to live with it.  But in this case, Bulldog and I are making the decision legally, morally and ethically, and if something goes wrong, DJ will have to live with it.  That is a monkey on my back of mammoth proportions.

What could go wrong?  OK-anything can go wrong when you're having major surgery.  But add to that,  my worry of the stress of recovering from surgery making her depressed.  What if she starts cutting again or stops eating again?  Bulldog and I are speaking for DJ when we press forward because we think the good will outweigh the bad.  We believe that making her wait will make her issues worse and that by having the surgery sooner, even in light of her recent issues with anorexia, cutting, etc., that she will fare better in the end.  But what if we're wrong?

Not only will we have the sorrow of knowing our misjudgement is causing our daughter more issues, we will likely have to deal with the (albeit unspoken) censure of many of our loved ones. Maybe many of you can make decisions and not care about what others think.  I admire you for it and wish for that quality in myself.  I work diligently to that end all the time in my life, but I am still not there despite my best efforts.  I care too much about what people think of me.

So, I'm regressing.  That's me in a nutshell today.  Well, it's true for DJ too.  It's not as if she is throwing tantrums or wetting her bed regressing, just that she is not wanting to address the responsibilities of a 17 year old right now.  I can accept her regressing.  I just need to accept my regressing.  Yeah, because last time I looked I didn't see a giant  red "S" on my shirt.

No Stepford people

DJ was moping around today.  When I asked if she was ok, she responded by saying:

"You and Dad are so annoying when you do that all the time."

I started remembering a time when this same child was much easier to deal with.  A time when she was happy go lucky, rolled with any and all punches, rarely got annoyed and didn't seem to have a care in the world.  That's when I caught myself.

That person, those people, weren't real.  JD embodied all of those qualities, as did DJ when she first came out.  Neither JD or the newly introduced DJ were the real deal. Not completely, anyhow.

Before I offend anyone, please let me explain.

When DJ was living as JD, she was acting like a boy, and not just any boy, but a nearly perfect boy.  One who would not raise suspicion and would blend in.  From what she has shared, nearly every minute of every day was comprised of maintaining this facade.  I can only imagine the absolute control that was required.  JD rarely got angry, rarely angered anyone else, and was universally charming.  Did he feel like he had to be?  Was that part of the facade so that no one would guess JD's secret?

Then DJ shared with us who she really was and then the honeymoon began.  Perhaps she was so relieved to be able to share who she was that anything displeasing in her present life just didn't matter compared to how she had been living.  She was so relieved that her parents accepted her that she wasn't going to get annoyed when they were.....well, typically annoying parents.  Maybe she didn't want to rock the boat.  I don't know because she is a considerably more private person than she was two years ago when she let us know that she was not our son.

Back then, she was initially frightened that we might reject her; that was followed by immense relief when we didn't reject her.  Even when we cautioned restraint in her transition she did not get angry or annoyed.  Maybe she felt that our acceptance was still tentative and that she had better not rock the boat. Whatever was driving her, I don't think being authentically DJ was her driving force.  Yes, being authentically female was driving her, but I don't know that she knew herself well enough as DJ; she certainly didn't know us as DJ's parents well, either.

This young lady is not as easy to get along with.  She can be difficult and headstrong (always in the most ladylike manner, however.)  She has likely always been somewhat moody (aren't we all?) but until recently, maybe she has masked her less desirable qualities until she knew, no matter her reality, that we wouldn't desert her.

And maybe taking those rose colored glasses off helped too.  We all would love to be our best, sweetest selves and trust that no one would ever stomp on us like a wine glass at a Jewish wedding, (without the Mazeltov, of course).  But most of the time, if we don't toughen up in some way, this world will eat such delicate creatures alive.

Maybe I'm just full of crap.  Quite possibly.

But today, I knew that seeing my daughter for the imperfect daughter she is is actually a greater gift than seeing her as the perfect daughter.  I won't be disappointed when she acts like a typical teenage girl.  I won't be exasperated (ok, not as much) that this sweet girl is now savvy to the faults of her parents and calls the shots like she sees them.  She doesn't need any more fake living.  Oftentimes, being real is much more difficult than being fake, but it's worth it.

But what if we, as parents, remember that other compliant child and wish for him/her? What if we actually share with our child that we miss that other person?  This has happened to a friend of mine and I want to shake her parents and frankly, slap them around a little bit.  And here's why:  they are fooling themselves if they think that other kid was ever real.  Sure, that kid was likeable and loveable as hell, but so is Joey Tribianni from the American TV show, "Friends" but guess what?!!! He's not real!!!

On the one hand, I understand a parent's sense of loss because that other kid seemed so awesome, but that kid was just a supreme actor and the kid in front of you is even more wonderful than that phantom kid.  The flesh and blood child is a fighter and a survivor.  I'll take that any day over easy going and charming.  You can fake the latter, but there's no faking the former.  What makes the real kid "tick" is something more meaningful and cannot be replaced simply by being the "joker" in the family.  Maybe I'm stereotyping and I'm certainly NOT finding fault with an excellent and healthy coping mechanism that some transgender people employ in order to be accepted in their families, but we all want to be seen and loved unconditionally for being our authentic selves, warts and all.

So, I slid backward for a minute remembering a time when DJ was compliant and complacent and feeling momentarily wistful; but I got my footing again. Like my sister-in-law (who we'll call "Malone" after the Irish song because she is indeed sweet) pointed out when I was feeling guilty about not being a "perfect" mother, "I wouldn't want to see you as a "Stepford Wife" (or daughter), it would scare me a little bit."

AAAAAGGGGGHHHHH!!!

I am freaking out right now.  In true Daley girl fashion, I've poured myself a glass of wine in an effort to take the edge off. Yes, I know this is unhealthy behavior, but technically so is having a bowl of ice cream when one feels stressed, but no one points fingers at ice cream addicts, so please do not judge me.

Bulldog and I were going over our calendar of what the next month and a half hold for us.  I am new in my job and have to find someone who has the right certifications to cover for me while I'm gone.  Then, on our collective return home two weeks after DJ's surgery, Bulldog will be going on a work related trip to Europe, the lucky bastard, leaving me to deal with juggling work and caring for DJ.  To be fair to Bulldog, he has postponed this trip three times and has a deadline of June, so there is really no way around this dilemma.

I would have my mom come stay with DJ, but I'm not certain how sure footed DJ will be two weeks post-op and my mother is not in the best physical shape herself.  Plus, DJ will be required to dilate multiple times a day and I'm not sure my mom is the person she would want to call on for assistance if she has a problem.  I wish I could be there every single day, but the reality is I have next to no leave accrued and I have students who are already freaking out about passing my courses. I feel like I have a moral obligation to be there for them, too.  Hence, my aforementioned freaking out.

Plus, a cousin on my father's side of the family is getting married the day before DJ leaves to come home. I think I can fly up that morning and fly back to the hotel where DJ and Bulldog will be before we hit the road to come home.  I would just opt out of going, but I've missed every single event that side of the family has hosted for the last decade.  This is my last cousin on that side of the family to get married and I do not want to miss it, especially in light of how much they have been there for us when my dad was sick.  How the heck I'll pull this off, I have no idea. I still want to believe it's possible, but it will mean asking for help from other family members or friends.

I hate asking for help. Why?  I am not sure.  Well, that's kind of fibbing-I do have a pretty good idea why, but I could fill up pages with my explanations and it would just bore you, the reader, to tears.

Take a deep breath woman-it will all work out-right?  DJ is the one with the really tough row to hoe-this other stuff can be worked out.  Right?  Right? Somebody tell me I'm right....