This post is exactly a year old. On an older blog, I closed that one down and have decided to start a new one here. This post was written August 2008.
"It's A Boy"!
I remember those words from the ultrasound technician when she announced that my first born child would be a boy. Everyone was happy and threw a big blue baby shower for me the month before I was to have him. I remember when he was first placed in my arms and he looked at me. I remember when he was given his first toy car at the age of 12 months. He was my little boy.
What I also remember is how he enjoyed dressing up like a girl at age 17 months. I remember how he liked playing mostly with girls, dolls and cooking sets. As he got older, I watched him become more interested in what girls had on and played with. I watched as he was picked on by the boys for being a sissy. I remember holding him as he cried because he didn't understand. I remember telling him that he was special, that mommy and daddy loved him no matter what. That sometimes, people fear what they don't understand and use anger and hate to make it all better.
I remember when he started pre-K and didn't like hanging out with the boys. I remember how though he'd play with his rough and tumble little brother, sometimes he just wanted to play with his kitchen set. I remember the day he asked my husband and I if he could have a dollhouse and we said if he was good, he'd get one. He was so very good and he got his dollhouse. I remember the light shining in his eyes from pure happiness as he played with it, then that light disappear when his little brother ran over his people with a monster truck.
I remember when he was 3 1/2 and he told me that he didn't like his body. I remember him telling me he was "all wrong". I remember him asking me if he could also wear some lipgloss or blush and I would say no. I remember watching his face fall and a part of me breaking for being the cause of it. I remember trying so hard to please my family, that subconsciously I was hurting him. I remember his behavior changing. Becoming violent at times, anxious at others. But most of all, I remember his depression.
Now, he is 4 1/2 almost 5. He is aware of what is a girl and what is a boy. And still, he believes he's "all wrong". It was finally after I gathered my strength to fight back, with the aid of my husband, that we are letting our son be who he says he is. A girl. There is already negativity to this. My family thinks we're leaving him out to dry. Leaving him to the wolves. We know that things will be hard, that she will be teased, pushed, harrassed. We are prepared to protect our baby as best to our ability, all the while explaining to her that ignorant, close-minded, and cruel people will always exist whether or not she was boy or girl, because she would always be different to them in some other way. We realized, we can help guide our child through the hate that we know is there, but the last thing we want is for her to be part of the 31% that kill themselves because their families didn't listen. We will NOT be those parents.
I remember when I was told "It's A Boy" how happy I was. But I can say, as I watch my beautiful child smiling happily, loving life, and wearing a really cute outfit that no folks "It's A Girl". And I am more than happy, I am very proud of her.