A Transwoman’s Thoughts on Mother’s Day

I walk a little over five km each morning, both for cardio health and in my eternal crusade to control my weight. My doctor says Ill get maximum benefit from my daily constitutional if I maintain a pace at which I cover each km in under ten minutes. That gives me almost an hour each day to myself, by myself, to try to come to terms with myself.

One of the things with which I dont think Ill ever fully come to terms is the sense of loss I feel over experiences and occasions I missed out on by not having a girlhood. Well… For that matter, I never had a young womanhood or a motherhood, either. I landed square in middle age when I finally transitioned.

So, I often wonder, late at night after Ive turned out the light or during my solitary morning walks, what it would have been like to take ballet lessons for poise and grace; to be a flower girl at a wedding; to try out for the cheer leading squad; to taste that first, magical, mostly innocent kiss with a boy; to lose my virginity in a fit of passion  or perhaps fearful anticipation; to be a brides maid; to be pregnant; to give birth; to nurse a child at my breast; to watch my children grow and prosper and have children of their own.

I fathered no children in my other life, for a variety of reasons both medical and political. So, the parenting experience is a whole chapter full of nothing but blank pages in the book of my life.

My own mother is still alive and kicking, of course. She lives up to her nickname, The Iron Lady, both in terms of her amazing physical constitution and her will to survive. She has outlived two husbands and looks forward (she says) to reaching 90, when shell start allowing herself the fortification of a tot of Gin each day, just like the late Queen Mum! Shes a wonderful role model and I love her dearly. She has also been one of my biggest supporters during my transition and all the other life changes that have come along with it. People say I take after her in a variety of ways. But theres one thing she and I can never have in common.

A few days ago, as I addressed her Mothers Day card and ordered the traditional flowers, I thought, œIll never get a card or flowers like this. Ill have no one to support me in my old age. And, when I die, Ill just be gone, with no one to mourn or remember me.

Then, I realized that I do have something in common with millions of women all around the world  all the women who are childless not by choice. Thats small consolation at best. But, at least, I now know that Im not alone.

[Repost, from a private blog.]

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