The Second Gift

When a child is born, the very first gift you give them is life.  The second, is their name.

In December of this past year, my daughter, Chloe, wrote me a letter, wherein she professed many things - being transgender, needing to change things for her survival, her love and respect for me and her father, intentions of beginning testosterone in January, requesting that her dad and I call her by her new male name, Chris, and requesting that we begin using male pronouns when addressing him or discussing him.

I can't rationally list all the difficult things I have encountered personally with regard to Chris' dysphoria and journey of transformation, but at the very top of this on-going list is having to call my child by a name I did not give her, and referring to her as a boy.  Everything inside of me has fought this part of the transition.  As difficult as it is and has been to visually accept changes in Chris' appearance, even more difficult for me is to speak it.  Maybe my mind believes if I do not say the name then it will not change.  I don't want it to change.  I correlate leaving the name behind with leaving the child behind, and that is not really what is happening, as the inside of my child remains the same, but I have not been able to convince myself to let go of that little girl, or figured out a way to keep her with me while I attempt to accept and support a boy taking her place.

Because Chris has lived in New York since last July, I am not around him that often, except when he visits here or I go there.  For a long time, in our house, where it is my husband and two other children at home living with us, we continued to refer to Chris as Chloe between ourselves and unbeknownst to Chris - as it was easier and a habit none of us seemed compelled to break in our private home.  It wasn't until recently, when my other daughter, Courtney (Chris' twin) told me how important it was to Chris that we begin calling him by that name that I began to try.  She urged me to just try and use the name because the more you do, the easier it becomes.  And so I did.  And I would correct (and still correct) others when they say Chloe.  It is becoming easier, but I still never refer to Chris as my son.

In my heart, or maybe it's in my head, I don't know, but I fear and believe Chris will always be Chloe to me because I'm not willing to ever let her go, even though the compassionate part of me wants and needs for Chris to live ...