Courtney is Chris's identical twin sister and has been with Chris through every step and stage of his transition - been there physically and emotionally when I couldn't or wouldn't be. I have come to learn that, in the beginning, Courtney struggled when Chris came out to her, for a short time, but it did not take long for Courtney to realize that her support of Chris was the only way to help her twin, not only survive, but thrive. I know that if asked, Chris would say that Courtney was and is his biggest and strongest advocate, his very best friend and a huge reason he has come so far in finding himself. In the early days of my struggle with Chris being transgender, I often said and imagined that my fears and sadness and confusion must pale in comparison to what Courtney, his twin, must feel or be experiencing, but the truth is ... Courtney never seemed to have allowed her own fears or sadness or confusion (if there ever actually was any of those emotions) impact or define, in any way, her decision to rally beside and behind and in front of Chris. Courtney was and remains one of the greatest factors in how and why I finally laid down myself for Chris. I watched her do it with grace and kindness and selflessness. I watched and learned, as quickly as I could, that, as much as I believed Chris being transgender was about me, it was not about me at all. Or anyone. It was and is about Chris.
Alexis is fourteen now and the youngest of our children. Besides Courtney, she was the next in line to easily adapt and accept to the changes and to embrace who Chris needed to be. She called him "Chris" from the moment he asked us to. She never seemed to question why or how or when or what - she just simply accepted that Chloe would be Chris now and she prided herself, as she should, on her ability to recognize that this was a thing far bigger and far more important than herself or any idea that would suggest that it did not need to happen. I have been deeply influenced by her, as well, as she reminds me, constantly, of what unconditional love looks and acts like.
Billy ... he was our only son, born five years after his twin sisters. He has had the most difficult time with Chris transitioning. He has been supportive, and I do not feel comfortable expressing any of his feelings for him, but I know that when he was born I wrote a poem that hung on the wall of his nursery for several years and one of the lines in that poem read, "In a world of ribbons and lace, in a world of little girls, I hope you find your place, my son." When I wrote that poem there were only two girls in his world and there would come a third several years later. It was never easy for Billy; the only boy in a house with so many girls - not so easy for him to find his place. And then ... I believe he has felt he lost what space he thought he had found, by relinquishing some of that space now to Chris. I do not know the depths of his anguish over this, but I believe it to be very real.
I could not have anticipated how the dynamics of our family, the changes of the dynamics, the dynamics of four siblings would or could or will affect each of my children. I know that a family can spend certain amounts of time focusing on one problem, focusing on one person, focusing on surviving one thing, at times, in attempts at ensuring the success of one thing while unintentionally or potentially hurting another. As the mother to these children, as a human being, I know I spent a lot of time pondering and living Chris's situation. I found myself in a really dark place at times and I know my other children suffered because I was emotionally detached for a while from so many things, struggling to cope with what Chris was going through and what I was going through because of that.
There was a time way before I had children that I struggled tremendously with some issues from my own childhood. There came a day when I had to find a way to forgive in order to feel more settled in my own life and go on. One of the ways I did that was to tell myself to see my parents as little children and find a way to forgive the child. If I believed that some of what happened to me was the result of how my parents were parented or how they experienced the dynamics in their childhoods and with their siblings (or lack of, in my father's case), then I found it easier to forgive my parents as adults and as parents to me. Ultimately I learned to forgive because they simply did the best they could do. Parenting is difficult.
I hold no ill feelings about my childhood. In a lot of ways it and all that happened to me made me strong, independent, creative, a force, special. I believe that is true of a lot of people who weather trauma. I believe a person's family is the core to molding a person into who they will ultimately be in the world. I know our family is far from perfect and still struggles at staying strong, but we all love each other and I hope when my kids are all grown that they will forgive each other, forgive their father and forgive me for the mistakes we've made with each other.
I see our family as a kaleidoscope - shards of so many beautiful pieces of glass that spin and spin, sometimes out of control, but ultimately align back together ... holding hands.
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