I don’t know why it surprises me anymore. Really. I just need to accept that this is part of my fabric and can come when I least expect it.

My son is trans. He was born a she. I knew when Jesse and Bella died, something would change with him regarding sexuality or identity, I just did not know what or how it was going to look like. When Oli came out about a year and a half ago, it did not surprise me, however, much like any parent going through this, there is a grieving process. Let me be clear, you can both grieve AND support your child through this, it is not an either/or, the key is to show your kid that you support them (and I cannot emphasize enough how important that support is), and then go get support for yourself.

There have been many stages through this, the first shelving 13 years at the time, of calling him “her.” Then the name. Then the rest. I had a talk with him at the beginning, and said, listen, I can only do one thing at a time kid, first, I am going to work on calling you he/him. Then the name. The name was hard as I had named him after my late Italian grandmother, whom I loved dearly. It was a slow process, but we have mostly got it. But within this, I recognized the grief I had was somewhat complicated and deep.

I had lost my baby girl Maribella May 2014. I lost my baby girl Rafaella March 2018. I gained my son Oliver March 2018. Yeah. There is some complicated grief there. Losing Bella added several additional layers that I think would not have been there otherwise.

We have been working on the dysphoria that trans people often deal with, and thankfully, he has a rock star of a therapist. He has pushed to get his name changed, and after talking to A LOT of people more experienced in this process, they all said, get it done before he gets his permit/license. So, we have started that process. He chose to also change his last name to match mine, which was also Jesse’s and Bella’s. He told me he wanted the same last name as me, but I cannot help but think there is something deeper there.

Luckily, in Oregon, it is a piece of cake to get a birth certificate name and gender changed. I went last week before work to the Oregon Health Authority’s building. I had downloaded and filled out the form beforehand, and had made a small mistake. The woman told me I needed to fill out a new one, as they could not accept one with a cross-out. To which I promptly made another mistake on the new form. I started to feel a little something, a bit of shaking, and I stuffed it down. I got the new form, and filled it out. As she was reviewing it with me, she repeated his old name and the new name. And I had made another mistake. I was shaking more visibly now, very distressed, and on the verge of a full blown panic attack. Let me emphasize, this was a one page simple document to fill out. I sat down in a chair fighting back tears, trying desperately to get myself under control. I said to her, I don’t know if I am capable of filling out this simple form.

There is still kindness in the world. I know with the overwhelming news that says otherwise, it is times like these that are the reminders. She came over to me and said, ok, I am going to go to the back and type this out for you. We made sure it was correct, and off she went. As I sat in that chair, a wave of various emotions came over me. I could not believe I was unable to fill out a simple form and felt so foolish. I thought, damn girl, you have some subconscious shit going on to keep screwing this up. All the while, still shaking and keeping the tears from their own deluge. She came out, reviewed it with me, and then done. I thanked her profusely and left with what dignity I still possessed. As I came down the elevator though, my body, well, my body freaked out. I was shaking still, but then a numbness came over my body, I got very nauseous,, and my head got fuzzy and tunnel vision like. It is kinda hard to describe, but you get the picture, it doesn’t feel great. I recognized the feeling immediately. It was the same feeling I had for I am not sure how many months after Jesse and Bella died. I called it my trauma body response. What I was confused about though, was why was it showing up then and there.

I got to my car and just sat there. I looked at the clock and said to myself, Stephanie, you need to get your shit together in exactly 50 minutes before your first patient arrives. I sat there “intellectualizing” the “feeling.” I had had a year and a half to wrap my mind around my sons transition and the new name. I “thought” I was as ok as I was going to be with it. I “realized” that I had stuffed it in the same kind of box that I put the tragedy in. It is not that I had not gone through processing, feeling and acknowledging of the emotions around it. I had. But like most things in my life, I only go so far. Then some subconscious safety mechanism puts the brakes on and places it gently in a box. It is much like Bella’s grief, it’s there always, but I am separate from it, almost numb to it. Until I am not. And then, it is a reaction much like I had that day.

It made me realize some things. I don’t “feel” like a normal person. My body has that safety mechanism that keeps things in place. It is not that I don’t feel. Just watch Call the Midwife or any of the finales of the Great British Baking Show with me, I cry all the time. But there is a weird thing that happens when it gets too close. I can understand it actually, it is the thing that keeps me sane. I have said time and time again, if I actually “felt” Bella’s grief, I would shatter. I imagine that my mind is smart, that if I felt things to their fullest, it would not stop, and would detour into that grief.

I have now lost two daughters. Therein lies the crux of the response I had. Granted, I gained a son. I know that. And he is absolutely amazing. As any parent, I want him to be happy and healthy in his mind and body, and if that body is different that the one he was born with, ok then. But. The literal fact is that I have lost both Maribella and Rafaella. And as most things in my life, it brings up a lot of complicated grief and feelings. And. I am sick of being an expert in complicated grief.