The Weight of Expectations

My daughter came into this world at 6:05 p.m, screaming in protest at the bright lights and cold air. My husband cut the umbilical cord. She was taken to the other side of the room to be weighed, measured, and cleaned. Although I had only held her briefly, my arms already felt so empty without her. My husband quickly brought her back to me and laid her gently in my arms. I looked down at her face, so perfect and beautiful. The joy of finally having her and the anxiety of her life being our responsibility created a storm of emotion within me. I knew at that moment I would do anything to protect her. 

Those first weeks were a blur. I dealt with postpartum anxiety that I mostly kept to myself, despite my husband’s unwavering love and support. I felt guilty for being overwhelmed and anxious. Like I wasn’t a good mother if I wasn’t elated every second of the day. I was happy and overwhelmed, joyful and afraid. I sat watching her sleep, tears filling my eyes. What if I didn’t show her I loved her enough? What if her life wasn’t happy? Or what if I wasn’t enough for her?

Joy and fear are often intertwined, gripping one another like a vice. How could I be so overwhelmingly joyful and terrified simultaneously? I couldn’t imagine that years later all of those feelings would come flooding back, knocking the breath out of me, until the day our daughter sat me down and told me, “Mom, I am transgender.” 

Expectations: I’m Having a Boy

I remember the day we had our first ultrasound. Everyone in our families had been making predictions about our baby’s gender. My husband was convinced we were having a girl, I knew it was a boy. The ultrasound was performed and I gloated about being correct (joke’s on me now). This was the first day we unknowingly began laying expectations on the tiny shoulders of our unborn child. We picked a name and imagined all of the “boy” things we would do together. Everyone we talked to shared stories of their sons, grandsons, and nephews. As most new parents can attest to, we received constant unsolicited advice. Most people had good intentions, but it was overwhelming receiving different advice from everyone. I let the things people were telling us creep into my mind and make a home there. I worried that I would make the wrong choices. 

“Boys are a handful.” 

“Boys are wild.” 

“You gotta toughen them up.” 

As the years passed, we tried our best to raise our child in a loving, open-minded home. Teaching her to love others equally and to never discriminate has always been a top priority. Living in rural Kentucky as a progressive family comes with challenges, but we always wanted our daughter to be passionate about her beliefs, stand up, and be proud. We let her explore her interests. We made plenty of mistakes and tried to learn from them. With each passing year, we held onto the expectations many parents have of their children, particularly of their sons. Although we always let her be her own person, we were still under the influence of popular ideas of what raising a boy meant.

More Expectations: Do This; Wear This

From an early age, our daughter was shown that boys are supposed to act, dress, and exist in a certain way. Every time we let her try something new, like art lessons or cooking, someone would make comments like, “that’s for girls” or “he’ll be a good husband some day.” The seeds were planted in her mind that her worth was measured by how masculine she was. My husband and I didn’t think activities or toys were inherently feminine or masculine, but her peers, some of our family members, and other adults told her differently. I had a lot of fear that I would raise a son that wouldn’t be compassionate. My husband and I didn’t want to put another insensitive man into this world. 

I never fully realized how much influence society has on what we expect of our children until the day my daughter told me she is trans. When I think of that day, my heart still flutters. She paced back and forth in our living room, unable to look me in the eyes. The words spilling from her, as if her body couldn’t hold onto them any longer. I sat in complete shock, unaware I was holding my breath. 

After we talked, I felt the panic rising in my chest. I wanted her to know that I loved her and would support her no matter what, but I was afraid for her. My mind couldn’t focus on anything else. What was this going to mean for her future? What was going to happen to the relationships in our lives? The guilt consumed me. We had failed our daughter because she had held it in for so long. I was selfish for being afraid of how it was going to affect our extended family relationships.

Peeling Away the Expectations

The weeks and months after that day, I drifted through the world, focused instead on this secret that sat heavily on my chest. I have learned many things since the beginning. I learned to feel all of my feelings. Every single one, even the ones that were the most uncomfortable. I will, undoubtedly, learn many more things in the years to come. The most important thing I learned in this process, my daughter is the bravest person I know. I could not be more proud of her. 

Even being raised in an accepting home, children fear disappointing their parents’ expectations. No matter how liberal you are, your child lives in fear of how you will react to their coming out. As my daughter said, “It’s different when it is your own child.” She is absolutely correct. It was as if she was physically weighed down by what society expected of her, what my husband and I expected of her. But I am the one that laid my expectations on her and I am responsible for taking them back. 

Defeat…

A couple of years before she came out, she went through a time where I didn’t recognize her. She had always marched to the beat of her own drum, having her own personal style, interests, and outgoing personality, but she stopped being this way.

The first signs were outward, wearing her hair in a buzz cut and clothes the same as the boys at school. Her spirit seemed dulled, as if a dimmer was slowly being turned, threatening to take her into darkness. We told ourselves maybe it was a phase or just part of growing up. When she came out to us, we realized what was really going on; for years she had been increasingly uncomfortable in her own skin.

…Then Victory

As the light started to come back into her eyes, the physical changes were symbolic of her rebirth. Her hair grew out, she wanted to give away the clothes that felt like they belonged to someone else. Throughout this transformation, I knew there was a bigger change going on within her, but I had no idea she was slowly showing us her true self. Dipping her toes into the waters of uncertainty to make sure we would be there to pull her out if the current became too strong.

That feeling I had when I first laid eyes on her came flooding back, what if I didn’t show her that my love is truly unconditional? After having time to process, I knew there was one thing I needed to do, lift the weight off of her shoulders and carry it around for a while. When I did this, I saw things through a whole new lens. Why do we expect our kids to be a person we made up in our minds instead of being the unique, beautiful souls we created? Our daughter is her own person. 

Managing Expectations: Joy over Fear

One of the most important things I learned, and continue to remind myself, is to feel the joy more than the fear. The world can be such an ugly place, especially with hateful legislation threatening the lives and freedoms of LGBTQIA+ people. It is easy to get enveloped in fear, but my armor is my unapologetic joy for my daughter and her future. To see her being herself is breathtaking. The small moments are what helped me break free from the tight grip fear had on me. I am lucky because I get to experience firsts with my daughter, and these will be moments we will both always remember. Having a trans child is unique in that way. Your child is old enough to remember all of their firsts with you. 

The day we shopped for her Junior prom holds a special place in my heart. It started off rather disappointing. We arrived at a local bridal shop that sold prom dresses. This would be the first time my daughter had worn a dress so publicly, as she wasn’t out to everyone yet. She was nervous, as was I, but I wanted this to be a fun experience for her. The staff at the shop were awkward and after initially asking us if we needed anything, they avoided speaking to us. She took a few dresses in the dressing room, but wasn’t comfortable showing them to me.

We left feeling defeated. I was angry at the staff, but tried my best to hold it in and still make the day fun for her.

Not Letting a Good Day Go Bad

The next stop was a department store that only sold a handful of prom dresses. We found two black dresses that she liked, but she was hesitant to try them on. I gently encouraged her to just try them and if she wasn’t comfortable showing them to me, then she didn’t have to. I stood outside the dressing room door taking deep breaths, anticipating her disappointment. My phone buzzed with a text. I opened it to a beautiful picture of my daughter in the dress and practically jumped for joy. I knocked on the door and told her how amazing she looked. She thanked me and changed back into her clothes. When she stepped out of the dressing room, her face lit up. I asked, cautiously, “Is this the dress?” She answered, “Yes.” The joy radiated off of her.

As we walked through the rack of clothes, my daughter tapped me on the shoulder. I turned around and she wrapped her arms around me, hugging me so tightly. “Thank you. I love you.”, she said. I hugged her back tightly. Holding on to her as if she were anchoring me to the Earth. “I love you more than anything.” I told her. Tears filled my eyes and I cried in the middle of JCPenney. I knew at that moment that everything was going to be ok. I have never doubted the decision my husband and I made. To accept our daughter for who she is and to celebrate the little things. I also came to the realization that I was going to shed more tears in this process than I had in her whole life leading up to this.

Floating through the World: Unburdened by Expectations

We have noticed a change in our daughter. She seems to float through the world lighter, with a sense of self we have never seen in her before. She talks of her future often, with hope in her eyes and a genuine smile on her face. Although the weight of the world can be overwhelming, she holds her head up high. She is anchored in the security that we will never put those expectations back on her shoulders and she will never carry them for herself again. 

We have lost family members due to their bigotry. I had to tell myself that it isn’t anything we did. It is their ignorance that caused this divide. I struggled at first with how our family would react. But as time went on, I realized that family is love, support, respect, empathy, kindness, strength; not genetics. I stood up for my daughter and I am proud that I didn’t back down. If someone can’t love our daughter for who she is, they never truly loved her in the first place. Unconditional love adapts to growth and change. Love is not rigid and stagnant. 

TL;DR

We aren’t perfect parents, but we love our daughter for exactly who she is. Parents are given a role that is often underappreciated and overlooked. We have influence over the way society views children, which inevitably influences the way society views men and women. From that first ultrasound, I began to expect certain things of my child based solely on gender. With each expectation, the weight bared down on her and threatened to crush her beneath it.  I had no idea I was even doing this to her. We teach our kids to listen and learn, but that is the exact thing we should be doing. Listening to them and learning who they truly are.