Good Morning, Mom
By MaggietheKitten
Edited and fixerated by Holly Hart

A girl on the morning of her fourteenth birthday writes her mom a letter and thanks her for the wonderful gift she's already been given.

Good Morning, Mom

By the time you read this letter, Samantha and I will be on the bus to school. I know you won’t have much time to read it now, because you will be doing you’re make up and fixing your lunch for work, but maybe you can read it later if you have time.

Its 5:00 a.m. Friday morning, November 14th, which means I’ve been 14 years old now for five hours. Yeah! I’m really happy it’s my birthday, and I’m very excited about my party tonight, but I’m also pretty tired, too. I didn’t sleep very well last night. I had the dream again. You know which one I mean. The one where I wake up and find out that I’m back living with my birth parents and still living as a boy. It’s been a long time since I had that one, but I had it really bad last night and when I woke up at 3:00 am I just had to make sure what was real and what was a nightmare.

I cuddled my stuffed sleeping companion, “Boo Boo Kitty”. She was a gift from my sister Samantha, and certainly very real. I looked up at the white lace canopy above the bed my big sister Emily left here for me when she went off to college, and it too, was so beautiful and so real. By the light of the moon I could see girl’s clothes poking out from my open closet door. I smiled because my big sister Erin helped me pick out most of them and I knew they were real. I saw my precious keyboard and stacks of sheet music piled on my desk which reminded me of my first Christmas here when you bought that keyboard for me. My practicing nearly drives you nuts. That certainly was real. Still … I needed more convincing.

I grabbed my robe and went across the hall to Samantha's room. Her door was ajar and I could see her sleeping. She was sprawled out all over the bed as usual, and she’d left her television on as usual. Over in the corner was her bass guitar and amp. Music is something we both love and it brought us together as friends in the 5th grade. We were both in the school band, but as I look over and see her black boots next to the nightstand, I think of “What She Said”, the punk-gothic garage band we just started. I don’t know how in the world she talked me into playing keyboards, but somehow she always talks me into everything. I looked down at the carpet and saw a tube of lipstick laying there and was reminded of all the time I’ve spent over the last year and half learning about hair, and makeup, and what works for me, and both of us laughing when we found out what didn’t work. It was all real and I knew it, but still I needed more, so I went to your room.

I stood in the doorway and thought about the many times I’d been there before. Some of them just like tonight, after I’d had the bad dream and I needed to feel safe. Sometimes I braved death and woke you up. Most of the time you listened to me patiently, saying all the right things when I gave you a chance to talk, hugging me when that is what I needed more than words, and always finding a way to make me laugh no matter how much I felt like crying. And what about the storms? So many nights you and Samantha and I sat in your room, candles on because the power was out and we watched the light show in the sky. That is always fun. I’ve sat on your bed and watched you put on make-up, you smiling at me in the mirror and making goofy faces. It was in your bathroom where you did my hair for my first day going to school as Katie. It was in this room you helped me dress for court and then asked me if I was sure this was what I wanted. I said yes then, and I’ve never ever regreted the day you became my official mom.

I came in and sat on the end of the bed, Cow raised her head and meowed, probably asking me to feed her. When I didn’t, she curled up next to you and went back to sleep. I didn’t really need to talk, so I didn’t wake you. I just wanted to be where you were, so I lay down close to you but didn’t try to cuddle. I’m pretty sure you never woke up, but somehow you knew I was there and you reached out an open arm to me. I snuggled under it and napped for awhile, but never really went back to sleep. I just listened to the quiet, if it’s possible to do that, and felt all warm and fuzzy. When your clock said 4:30, I decided to get up and go downstairs because I knew I wasn’t going to go back to sleep by then.

Cow started to follow me down, but when I told her I still wasn’t going to feed her, she went back to your bedroom. Giggle! She is such a cow! I got some juice from the kitchen and then crashed on the couch. I was going to turn on the television and watch some DeGrassi, but I didn’t want to wake to you. You are a not happy mom when you get woke up at 4:30, especially when there is no coffee ready.

The new book you bought me last weekend was sitting on the end table where I’d left it last night. Most of the time I’m a slow reader, but it’s so good that I’m nearly finished with it already. Except for the fact that Alysson lives in England, her life growing up as transsexual teenager is so much like my own. I guess I saw like, fifty things in the first three chapters that reminded me of me. Of course you already know that, because I interrupted the movies you were watching every time I found one. Sorry, Mom.

I got about three or four pages into the next chapter, but I wasn’t really getting into Alysson’s story. I was thinking too much about my own. I thought back to the day that changed my life. I’ll never forget that day as long as I live. Even though I know now that I’ve always really been Katie on the inside, that day was kind of like the first day I ever really let her on the outside, at least with someone else. I’m so glad that someone else was Samantha.

~~~~~

My parents were fighting again. I just couldn’t listen to it anymore, so I called my best friend and asked her if I could come over. Samantha knew how bad it was and she told me to come straight over. My bike had me there in like ten minutes, and when I got there Erin let me in. Samantha must of told her what was going on because she actually put down her cell phone long enough to ask me if I was alright. I said “yeah”, and kind of dropped my head and shuffled on in. Samantha was crashed on the couch watching cartoons as usual. Neither one of us said much for a little while and then finally she asked me if I wanted to play video games. When I shook my head she asked me if I wanted something to eat. I told her I wasn’t hungry. Two more Sponge Bob’s went by before she asked me if I wanted to go walking around. I nodded silently and she knew that meant I really needed to talk. As we walked out she told Erin we were going over to the park. Erin waved without taking her attention away from the phone. She wasn’t the least bit concerned that her little sister was hanging out with a boy. After three years of spending half my summers, and a lot of my after school time at the Nicholas house, I wasn’t a boy anymore. I was a kid brother. Giggle, well that was half right.

We walked along quietly, ending up at the swings. I was really glad no one else was there. Samantha asked me what was up and I told her it was the usual. For about fifteen minutes we rocked back and forth in the swings and I let out my frustrations and fears over my parents fighting and their divorce to come. My father was going to be moving out at the end of the month, and while I was kind of sad about that, I was glad there would be no more of the fighting and that was all I had really planned to talk about.

What happened next, just sort of happened and I really don’t know why or how.

While Samantha was talking about our music class in school, I just blurted out that I thought I was going crazy. She looked at me all funny with that silly smile of hers like whenever I do something really dopey. I dropped my head for a minute, and when I raised it to look at her again I could feel tears in my eyes. The smile was gone quick and she was at my side. She put her arm around me to comfort me and that made me cry all the more.

I heard her whisper, “Is it your mom and dad driving you crazy? I remember how it was when my parents divorced.”

I shook my head and told her it wasn’t about them. It was about me, and I was really scared and didn’t know what to do. Honest to God, I hadn’t planned on telling her about my deep dark secret. I hadn’t been able tell anyone, not even my best friend, but once I said the first word, I just couldn’t stop. I said “Samantha, please don’t hate me, and please don’t tell anyone, but I wish with all my heart I was a girl just like you.”

Samantha didn’t laugh or look at me like I was some crazy freak kid. She just looked at me, almost as scared as I felt. She didn’t know what to say so she just let me talk.

I started with the beginning as best as I knew when it all started. I told her that I remember being like 5 or 6 and watching cartoons and so wanting to be a Disney princess. I remember my first day in school, and seeing all the girls and how prettily they were dressed, and how beautiful their hair was and how I wished I could look like them.

Tears started coming then. They burned my cheeks, and my stomach hurt from crying so hard as I tried to find words to explain my wishes, my hurt, my shame and my craziness.

Still Samantha didn’t really know what to say. I don’t blame her. I don’t what I would have said if she’d told me she wanted to be a boy. She just listened and hugged me, like the good best friend she was.

I poured it all out. I told her that I thought the feelings might go away when I grew up, but I was almost a teenager and they had only gotten stronger. I hated my own reflection more and more every day, and I could hardly stand the thought of what it was going to be like when I was 16 and my body was going to be more and more like a boy’s.

I told her I was so jealous of girls and the way they looked and everything they could do and what they were going to get to do when they grew up. I swallowed hard and nearly got sick when I told her that most of all I was jealous of her and her sisters, because not only were they real girls, but they had the coolest mom in the whole world. I swear, to me you were just like a real life Lorelei Gilmore from the Gilmore Girls, and you know, I still feel that way, (except when you are being mean).

I even told her about my most favorite fantasy, and my every night prayer. I told her I prayed every night that when I woke up the next morning I would be a real girl, and not just any girl. I wanted to be her sister, so we would always be connected and so I could have her mom as my own. I even told her that I asked that if God couldn’t grant me that miracle, that he just take me away to heaven so I didn’t have to spend one more day on this Earth as a boy.

The whole time I had talked I had never really been able to look her in the eyes, but finally I knew I had to. I wiped my tears and faced her. She just looked at me with concern and tears in her own eyes. I told her I knew that none of what I wished for could ever be true, because I knew I was a boy, and yet I wanted it more than anything. When I was finally done I didn’t know if she’d say I was crazy, or if she would just run away and never speak to me again.

What she did was hug me and tell me that I was her best friend and she didn’t think I was crazy, just really sad and hurting. She quickly added that she didn’t know what to do, but that her mom would, and that we should go back to her house and wait for you to come home. She promised me that you would listen, and that you would try to help, and that you wouldn’t think I was crazy, either. I believed her. I guess I needed to. And you were the coolest mom I’d ever seen. You had always made me feel like part of the family, even if you didn’t know how much I wanted to be part of the family, or in what way. When we walked back I was quiet again but I felt better. I guess it was just so good to finally tell someone. I just hoped I’d feel the same way after telling you.

Two hours later you, me, and Samantha were all sitting at the dining room table. I’d sat there many times before that day and have sat there many more since, but none of them were as scary or as important as that time. When Samantha told you that “we” needed to talk to you about something really important, I smiled at her and wanted to take her hand. I didn’t, but it was okay, because she took mine as the three of us walked over to the table.

I wasn’t sure where to start but when I looked at you and you smiled at me, much the same way that Samantha did, I knew somehow you would be patient and allow me to find the words. Finally I started and like the first time earlier that afternoon, tears came along with the words, but it was easier this time. This time, I didn’t hide my eyes. I was still ashamed and scared, and worried I was crazy, but I needed to look at you. I needed to be sure you understood, so that perhaps then you could explain it to me. And whenever I got stuck and couldn’t think of the words, Samantha helped by squeezing my hand and repeating some of the things I’d told her.

You were very quiet through most of it. I could tell you were really listening to what I was saying, but it was kind of more than that. It was like you were listening to how I was saying it, and watching me really close. When I finally ran out of words, you softly told me. “Come here!” and when I did, you gave me a really big hug and more tears came out, this time some from you.

I really needed that hug and I really needed to hear what you told me afterwards. You told me I wasn’t crazy and you made me believe it. You also told me that my feelings were nothing to be ashamed of or to be scared of. You told me that you weren’t a doctor, or an expert, but that you had read about other people who sounded a lot like me. They were called transsexuals, and what I might have is something called Gender Dysphoria. It was kind of a fancy name for saying that you had the body of one gender, but inside you felt like you should have the body of the other gender. I told you I couldn’t believe that anybody else felt like me, but you said they did, and then we went to the computer and you got online and proved it to me. We looked at sites where doctors talked about people, sometimes even kids. There were boys who wanted to be girls, and even girls who wanted to be boys.

I remember I asked you if the doctors could fix you so you could be a girl and you looked a little sad when I did. You said that they couldn’t make you exactly the same as girls who are born girls, but then you smiled and said they could make you pretty darn close. Pretty darn close sounded pretty darn good to me. I said I wanted to have my operation that weekend so I could go to school as a girl on Monday.

You rolled your eyes and told me, “Settle down there, Missy.” There were a whole lot of things that I would have to do before the doctors would even consider giving me an operation. In fact, at my age it would take quite a few years to get to that point. That made me kind of sad, but you picked up my spirits when you said that you would be willing to help me with some of the things I had to do. However, the very first thing I had to do was tell my parents. You said nothing was going to get done without their permission and their support. Suddenly I was very afraid, very ashamed, and very hopeless.

Talking wasn’t something we ever did a lot of at my house, especially me and them. They both worked. My mother came home and fixed dinner. Most of the time we ate pretty quietly, unless my Dad got started going off about some of the “idiots” at the office. I don’t really think of that as a conversation, because he did all talking. After dinner my father watched television until he left to go see some of his friends to talk about business for awhile. I think they most always had their talks at a bar. My mother sat in her chair and read mystery books until she fell asleep. Me, I’d go over to your house if it wasn’t too late or too cold, or I’d just play up in my room. We had a pretty quiet house.

Well, once they had decided to get a divorce, there was even less talking, but the house wasn’t as quiet anymore. My mother slammed a lot of stuff in the kitchen and my father did the same in the living room and when they did talk, it always ended up in shouting, and I didn’t like shouting. As soon as it started I hid in my room.

Now they were always angry at each other and I was afraid if I told them what I’d told you and Samantha, then I was sure they’d be that angry at me. I just couldn’t face them alone. Thanks to you, I didn’t have to. You said you would go over there with me. I would still have to tell them, because you couldn’t do that for me, but you would be there to help a little if I got stuck, and to help if you could after I had told them. I was still scared … but I knew I could do this if you were there. It’s the same feeling I have now. I know I can face anything as long as I know you are there.

I called my parents and told them you were bringing me home and I needed to talk to them about something important. Samantha wanted to go with us, but you told her it would be better if she stayed. She did give me a hug and told me everything would work out. I so hoped she was right.

As I sat before my parents, I prepared myself to tell my lifelong untellable secret for the third time in one day. My father didn’t look very happy. I think he would have rather been with his business friends. My mother looked kind of uncomfortable. Maybe she’d thought I broke something expensive over at you house. I was pretty sure they both figured it had to be something bad or you wouldn’t be there with me. Well … you know how it went. It was really hard for me to tell them, and I couldn’t look them in the eyes through parts of it. Whenever it got really bad, I felt you squeeze my hand. A few times I looked at you and you encouraged me with a smile.

It was so very quiet when I got done. I didn’t want to get hollered at, but the silence almost hurt more. That’s when you jumped in and told them that you thought I was very brave to confide in you, and that sometimes it’s easier to talk to a friend then it is your own parents. I remember my father saying “Thank you for bringing this situation to our attention.”

I couldn’t believe he said thank you, but it did sound kind of funny when he said it. It was kind of like he said the words, but his voice and face didn’t mean it. My mother came over and hugged me, which really surprised me a lot, because she almost never did that. You told them that you knew there were support groups and websites that could offer loads of information on doctors and therapists. You offered to help in any way you could.

Again my father thanked you, and again it just sounded all funny. He walked you to the door. You looked back at me and you could tell I wanted to go with you, but you gave me that reassuring smile and a look in your eyes that said I needed to stay here and talk with my parents more.

However, after you left there was very little talking. My father left to go see his friends. My mother went out back to smoke and I went upstairs to my room. When I came downstairs the next morning my father had already left and my mother was waiting for me. She told me I had embarrassed her and my father by telling all these things to someone outside the family. I tried to tell her that you and Samantha were just like family, but she wasn’t listening. She wanted to know why I hadn’t come to her and I told her I didn’t know why. I lied. Truth was, I just didn’t want to tell her. I never told her or my father anything, not about school, not about what I did over at your house or what me and Samantha talked about over at the park, and they never asked. I sure wasn’t going to tell her about wishing I was a girl.

She told me I had really hurt her, but I didn’t understand how. She said she didn’t know what she had done wrong and then looked at me like I was suppose to be able to tell her, but I didn’t know what she’d done wrong either. She told me my father was pretty upset and that he didn’t appreciate you coming over, either. She said he didn’t want this kind of thing being spread all around. I told her you wouldn’t tell anybody but she still wasn’t listening. Then she dropped the bomb. She told me I wasn’t to go over to your house any more. I started crying. I told it wasn’t fair, but she got angry, angrier at me than I could ever remember. I grabbed my stuff and ran out. I wished I’d never told them. I wished I’d died before I woke up that morning.

I didn’t tell Samantha anything that day. She knew there was something wrong, but I didn’t want to get into more trouble so I stayed quiet ,and I stayed away from the one place I so wanted to be. That night my father never spoke to me, even when I spoke to him. He slammed the door when he left after dinner. I started to go up to my room, but my mother called me down.

She had told me I couldn’t talk to anyone else about this, but I guess it was okay that she could, because she said she had called Grandma Lillian and told her. Grandma Lillian wanted me to know that she still loved me, because God loves you no matter how much you sin. All I had to do was ask forgiveness for my wickedness and God would fix me. He would take this sickness away from me. She said she would have the whole congregation praying for me.

I know Grandma meant well, but I didn’t like the idea of a whole bunch of people I didn’t know praying for me. There were lots of people out there dying and sick, who probably needed their prayers more than I did. And there was something else, too. I’m glad God forgives you and loves you even if you are evil and bad, but I wasn’t sure how wishing I was a girl was really all that evil or bad. Grandma always said that God knows everything, so he had to know that I wasn’t lying or breaking no rules when I said I wanted to be a girl. It was straight from my heart, and I couldn’t help feeling that way. Grandma knows lots more about the Bible and God than I do, but I don’t think God is mean or wants me to hurt, so when I asked him to make me a real girl, I was just asking him to fix me so I didn’t hurt any more. I can’t see how that is so bad. And besides, it is kind of God’s fault that I got the wrong body, isn’t it? I mean, he is in charge of that kind of stuff, right? Now I’m not really mad at him for messing up, well … maybe a little, but everyone makes mistakes, even perfect beings like God. So I forgive him for what he messed up, and I think he’ll forgive me for the stuff I messed up. So I kind of think we’re even. I didn’t tell my mother to tell Grandma what I thought. I knew she wouldn’t like it and I didn’t want more people praying for me.

She also told her sister, my Aunt Alice who told her husband Uncle Gene. My mother said that Uncle Gene had known all along there was something wrong with me. I thought that was pretty amazing, considering he never paid any attention to me when we over to their house on Christmas. He said that if I was his son, he wouldn’t need no doctors or support groups to fix me. He’d take me out in the woods and make a man out of me. I didn’t know how going out in the woods would make me a man, but it did make me kind of wonder where I could go that would make me a girl. When my mother said she was seriously thinking about me going up there to spend some time on summer vacation I almost got sick.

It didn’t seem like my mother really wanted me to talk to any doctors about this, but she got to talk to her doctor about it. It wasn’t her medical doctor, but it was the doctor she went to talk to about her and my father getting a divorce. He was the guy who gave my mother what she called her “happy pills”. Personally, I don’t think they worked so well. She never seemed that happy to me. I think they must have been sleeping pills, because she slept a whole lot on the weekend. Anyway, she said she talked to him about me and he was pretty sure he knew what was wrong with me too.

He said that the whole thing could be about the divorce, and that I was acting out because I was angry, and because I wasn’t getting any attention. I told my mother straight away that he was wrong. I wasn’t trying to act out, and I didn’t think it was about them or the divorce. I thought it was about me, me wishing I could be a girl. When I told her that I had lots of friends at school whose parents had gotten divorced, and none of them wanted to be girls, she did something she’d never done before. She slapped me right across the face. The smack really hurt, but not as much as the fact that she did it. Then she turned around and walked away from me. I told her I was sorry, but she didn’t answer. She went out back to smoke again. I went upstairs and wondered how it could get worse.

I found out at about 4:00 am when my father came home. I was awakened to the sound of my bedroom door being slammed and bright light in my face. At first I thought it was another nightmare, but when I saw my father standing over me and I could smell that nasty stink of cigarettes and alcohol, I knew he’d been to the bar again and I wasn’t dreaming. He just stared at me for a moment and he looked so angry. I tried to pull myself away from him but I was tangled in my blankets and there was nowhere to go. I didn’t see my mother, but I heard her telling my father to stop but I don’t think he was listening.

He leaned forward and asked me if I liked boys. At first I was still too groggy from sleep, and I didn’t think I’d heard him right. I remember saying, “What?”

That was not the answer he was looking for I guess, because this time he got really angry and shouted, “I said, ‘Do you like boys?’ Are you a little queer? Is that what all this little girl crap is about?”

This time I heard him, and I kind of understood, and it made me feel all sick in my stomach. I wanted to say something, something to tell him he was wrong and to make him stop but I was scared and I could hardly speak. I dropped my head and whispered, “No, Dad. That’s not it.”

Suddenly I was being lifted up from my bed by the collar of my pajama top and my father’s breath was hot and stinky in my face. “Speak up, boy … I asked you a question and you better damn well look me in the eyes when you answer.”

I raised my eyes to meet his and he started again, “Do you like boys? Do you want to kiss them? Do you want to hold their hand and be their little queer girlfriend?” Well, do ya?”

I shook my head and then realizing he was expecting a verbal response, I shouted, “No!”

He smiled at me, but not a very good kind of happy smile. It was a scary smile. “Well … you say you want to be a girl and girls like boys, so … it makes perfect sense to me that you would want a little boyfriend to hold your hand and carry your books and give you kisses.”

“Stop it, Don!” I heard my mother yell, but he wasn’t going to stop.

“Tell me boy … when you go to the pool and change in the locker room, do you watch the other boys? Do you like looking at them naked? Does it get you all excited? Does it? Well if you’re a girl, it should, because girls like looking at naked boys.”

I tried to speak but I couldn’t. He was being so mean to me and I was so scared and yet so angry. I was afraid no matter what I said it was going to be wrong or he wouldn’t believe me. But I guess I should have said something, because my silence made him even madder.

“Damn you, you little faggot. How could you do this to your mother and I? We’ve worked hard to give you a good home. You’ve never had to want for much of anything. There’s no drugs here and we’ve worked hard to teach you right from wrong. It’s a hell of a lot better place than a lot of your little friends have, I’ll tell ya. And this … this is how you want to act? You want to be a little queer? You want to get laughed at and beat up? Don’t you have any pride, boy? Don’t you care what people are going to say about you, or what they’ll say about your mother and I?”

It was too many questions. My head was spinning and I thought I was going to throw up. I didn’t know what to say, so I cried.

“That’s right! Go ahead and cry, little baby girl!” When my father shoved me back I smacked my headboard, hard.

He shook his head and looked at me with such disgust, “I won’t stand for this shit. When your mother and I divorce, if you expect to live with me or visit me, you better get this sick shit out of your mind, boy. I … I just don’t know what’s wrong with you.”

He started to turn away, but finally he’d said something that I could at least try to answer. “It might be Gender Dysphoria. I think that’s what Samantha’s mom called it. She told you some about it when she came over.”

When he turned back around to look at me, I realized I probably should have just stayed quiet. “So she’s got the answer, huh? You really think she knows you better than your own parents do? Well obviously you do, because you told all this shit to her instead of coming to me or your mother.

My mother grabbed his arm. “Don, this isn’t helping.”

Dad brushed her away and never lost eye contact with me. “You really think she’s something special, don’t you? Well I’ll tell you something. If she was all that damn special she wouldn’t be a single mother. And I’ll tell you something else … I don’t appreciate nobody coming into my house, throwing around a lot of psycho bullshit and telling me how to raise my kid. It’s none of her damn business, and I ought to go upside your head for even talking to her!”

This time my mother stepped in front of my father. “This is enough, Don. I mean it.”

Finally, she must have reached him, as he turned and walked to my door. I thought it was finally over, but he wasn’t quite finished. “I’ll tell you what a big part of the problem is. You spend way too much time hanging around over at that woman’s house with her daughters. It ain’t natural for a boy to do that. No wonder you’re wanting to squat to pee. No … this shit stops now! Your mother has already told you not to go over there any more. Well if I catch you over there, or hear you’ve been over there, I’ll beat the queer out of you. Do you understand me?”

Somehow I managed a “Yes sir”, and then I just lost it. I was crying and rocking and hurting so bad and I was so mad too because I couldn’t fight back. He was wrong about me, and he was wrong about you, and he was wrong about everything. The last thing I heard him say as he went downstairs was something about “AIDS”, but I didn’t really know what he meant then. I do now.

Neither one of them came back that night. I know, because I didn’t go back to sleep. I think I was afraid my father would come back. I stayed up thinking about everything that had happened. I didn’t know what my parents were going to do, because they’d never been this mad at me before. I was pretty angry at them too, because I thought they were being mean and unfair. Most of all though, I was sad and scared; sad about not being able to hang out with Samantha anymore, and scared, really scared, about not being able to go to your house and talk to you anymore. It meant that I was all by myself. I talked to God until it was time to get up. I begged him to send the angels down to come get me. I really didn’t want to be there any more.

When morning came and the angels hadn’t, I got dressed, grabbed my bag and headed out the front door without saying goodbye to my parents. I know they heard me leave, and all the way down the street I kept looking back to see if they would come after me, but they never did. I was so glad. When I saw Samantha, she knew there was something wrong, but I didn’t tell her. I wanted to, but I was afraid if I said anything, I’d say everything, and I didn’t want to sit on the bus and cry all the way to school. I didn’t want to get teased and beat up like my father said I would.

In school, Samantha didn’t push me. She knew when I wanted to talk, I would. She just hung around and did goofy stuff to make me laugh. I’m so lucky she is my best friend.

When school finally let out and we got off the bus at our stop, she asked me if I wanted to come over. I usually did, because I hated being a latchkey kid, all alone until my mother came home from work. She smiled and tempted me with some cookies Erin had baked the night before, and the new video game she’d gotten last weekend. I wanted to go, I needed to go, but I knew if I went my father would kill me, maybe really kill me. I’d have had to be crazy if I went over there. I thought about it, and then I told Samantha I’d go, as long as she’d let me use the good controller and not the one that sticks. She giggled and we headed to your house. I don’t know why, but suddenly I didn’t care if my father killed me. I just couldn’t, and wouldn’t go home. I am so glad that I was crazy that day.

We turned the corner to your street and then I thought of something that made me stop. I knew I was already dead meat for disobeying my father and coming to your house, but what if you got in trouble, too. I didn’t want that, and I didn’t want you mad at me for coming over and not telling you what my father had said. And I didn’t want my father hollering at you either.

When we got to the walk leading up to your steps, I told Samantha I couldn’t go in until I told her something. She knew it was important. She’d been waiting for it all day. I didn’t tell her most of it. I just told her that I wasn’t allowed to come over to her house any more, and that my mother and father were really mad at me. I told her I was afraid to go home. She nodded and gave me a hug. I didn’t have to tell her the rest; I think she kind of knew.

At that point I didn’t know what to do, but she did. She got her key out of her backpack and offered me her hand. I took it and together we walked into the house. She told me to park my pack and grab a seat at the dining room table. She went straight to the phone and called you. All she had to say was that I was in trouble, and immediately you asked to speak to me. Up until this point I had really been doing good, but then I heard your voice and I started crying. I don’t see how you could have understood much of what I said, but I guess you did some, because you told me to stay put and not go anywhere until you got home. You told me not to worry, and then I gave the phone back to Samantha. I watched her nod a few times before she hung up. She told me we weren’t to answer the phone or the door, unless it was her, or Erin, or Emily.

I didn’t much feel like playing video games, but we still had cookies and milk. I’ve never been too upset for those. Emily came home about fifteen minutes later. I guess you must have called her on her cell phone, because as soon as she came in she gave me a hug and told me not to worry. You would be home any minute now and you would know what to do. I slurped down the last of my milk and hoped she was right.

When I heard a car pull in I thought it might be my father, and I wanted to run, but I had nowhere to go. I was so glad it was you. You threw your bag and keys on the kitchen counter and came straight into the living room. You asked Emily if my parents had called or come over. When she said no, you looked kind of relieved. I was kind of relieved, too.

You sat down between me and Samantha on the couch and gave me a hug. I held on really tight and didn’t want to let go. When you finally pulled back you asked me with the softest voice ever, to tell you exactly what had happened. I got ready to tell you, and then Erin came home. I guess you must have called her, too, because she didn’t say a word, she just looked at you then sat down quietly. The whole family was finally there, so I started talking and crying.

A couple of times I was crying so much I couldn’t talk, and you never got mad at me once. You rubbed my back and told me it was alright, and to just let it go. Boy, did I ever let it go. I told you everything that had happened, and you barely said a word the whole time, but you sure looked like you wanted to say something when I told you some of the things my dad said and did. I knew you were mad, because your fists were all balled up.

When I finally finished I was so tired and so empty, I just wanted to lie down on your couch and go to sleep. I guess not getting much sleep the night before had me really wiped out. I just wanted to stay there and not get hollered at any more, or see the look I’d seen in my father’s eyes again, but I couldn’t stay there. I knew I had to go home sooner or later and be killed, or so I thought.

You looked at me and I knew you knew what I was thinking, what I was wishing, but I guess you were waiting for me to say it. What you did say was that none of this was my fault, and that no parent should ever treat their child the way I had been treated. In your opinion, you considered it abuse, and were tempted to contact the authorities about it rather than see me return to such a situation.

The most important thing of all you said was the one thing I’ll never forget. You asked me what I wanted to do. That was something my parents had never asked me. It was the easiest question I’d ever been asked. I told you that I didn’t want go back home any more, and most of all I wished I could stay there with you and Samantha and everyone.

You looked at me when I said that with a real serious look, kind of like you were looking right through my eyes straight to my soul or something. It seemed like it took a long time for you to say anything, but it was probably only a few seconds.

When you did speak it was to ask me another question. You asked me if I was sure, really sure, that was what I wanted, because this was really important, the biggest decision I might ever make, and you wanted me to be really sure about it.

I wrapped my arms around you and told you I’d never been more sure of anything in my whole life.

You smiled down at me and then kissed me on the forehead. You told me to get my shoes on and get ready to go. We were going over to my parent’s house to have a talk. That’s when I really started shaking. The thought of facing my father again made me scared and I squeezed you tightly. You ruffled my hair and told me not to worry. I was going to be safe, while you did the talking and they did the listening. You promised you weren’t going to stand by and let anyone hurt me. I didn’t know how you were going to save me or yourself from my father, but I believed you.

I got my shoes on and Samantha came over and gave me a hug for good luck, but told me I really didn’t need it, because she could tell you were really mad, and when you were that mad, nobody, not even her great big old ex-marine dad wanted to mess with you.

Erin told me everything would be all right, and when I told Emily good-bye, she told me, “No, it’s only, ‘see ya later’ ”, because she knew you would be bringing me back home that night. I so wanted to believe that, too, but I was still afraid that my parents would get me back and I’d never see any of them again.

It was a short drive to my house from yours, so there wasn’t time for a lot of chat but you pretty well told me everything I needed to know. You asked me for the last time if I was sure this was what I wanted, and I nodded silently. You asked me if there was anything I had forgotten to tell you, or if anything I’d told you wasn’t exactly as it really happened. I told you I couldn’t think of anything else, and that I hadn’t lied about any of it. You then told me that you intended to take me back home with you, but you couldn’t promise it. However, you did promise me that I wouldn’t be spending the night at my parents house, even if it meant I had to go with child protective services until you could work out getting temporary custody. Finally, you told me to stay in the car with the doors locked. You didn’t want me to come in unless you or a police officer came and got me.

Once we arrived at my house, I saw my father looking out the window. I couldn’t see his face very well, but I’m sure he had been really mad when I didn’t come home, and especially when he saw your call pull into our driveway.

You told me not to worry and that everything would work out. I watched you walk up to our front door and I prayed everything would work out for both of us. When I saw my mother let you in the front door I was more scared for you than I was for me.

I don’t know how long you were in there but it seemed like forever before I saw the front door open again. I pressed my face to the window to see you, but I jumped back in my seat when I saw it was my father I checked the lock on the door to make sure it was down and then shrank back in my seat. I waited to see him glaring at me, shouting and pounding on the window, but he never came near. He walked right past me like I wasn’t even there and got into his car. I couldn’t see his face, but I knew he was mad by the way he smoked the tires when he left.

A few seconds later you came out carrying a big black trash bag. I heard my mother shut the door behind you, but I never saw her face. When you saw me looking at you, you winked and smiled. When you opened the car door, you tossed the big bag into the back seat and told me that we, or you, if I didn’t want to, would come back on the weekend to get the rest of my stuff.

I kind of stared at you like I couldn’t believe what you’d just said, because I couldn’t believe what you’d said. So, I had to ask. “You mean, I get to live at your house now?”

You smiled and said, “Yep, Welcome to Chez Nicholas, but you’ll have to share a cage with Samantha until I can go to Petco and get you your very own.”

You always know how to make me laugh, especially when I really need to. I giggled and I hugged you tight and said thank you about a thousand times.

I was so happy as we headed home, “home”, your home, my home, our home! I started bouncing around the seat and going on and on about how great it was going to be. I said it would be like living at the Gilmore house with three Rory’s. I remember you laughed and said something about how I was as goofy as Samantha. I thought it was the greatest compliment anyone had ever given me.

You said tonight was a special night and special nights at Chez Nicholas are always celebrated with pizza, and chocolate, and movies, so our first stop was Puchini’s Pizzeria, followed by a duck in at Death by Chocolate for brownies, and finally home for the party.

As we pulled into Puchini’s parking lot, I was tempted to ask you what happened with my parents, and how you’d convinced them to let me come live with you. I know it must have really been bad. I bet my father must have really gotten angry, and probably my mother, too. But … I guess Samantha was right. You must be tougher than your marine ex-husband when you get mad. Really, it doesn’t matter all that much to me how you did it, I’m just so glad you did it.

While we were waiting for our pie to come out of the oven you did say that my parents had agreed to me living there with you, but to make it legal, it would take more than them just giving their permission. We would have to go to court and I might have to tell the judge the things that I had told you that day, and the day I told you I wanted to be a girl. You took my hand when you told me, and assured me that when that day came you would be right there with me the whole time.

I remember asking you, “What if my parents change their mind and want me back, or say they never gave you permission to take me?”

You told me that was the reason why we had to go to court, but in the meantime you had a little something to keep that from happening. You opened your purse and pulled out a piece of notebook paper. I didn’t read everything that you had written on it, but I did see my parent’s signatures at the bottom of it. You explained to me that it wasn’t as good as the paper the judge would sign and give us, but it would do until you could call a lawyer in the morning.

I figured it must be a promise that they wouldn’t ask for me back, and you were going to make sure they didn’t break their promise.

While on the way to Death by Chocolate, you rang Emily and told her it was going to be a party night tonight and to get everything ready. I could hear Samantha hollering in the background and she sounded just as happy as I felt.

When we got home, everyone was glad to see me and the pizzas from Puchini’s. It was so much fun that night, eating pizza and fudge brownies and watching movies. It really was like a Gilmore Girl episode. And the best part of it, was that it didn’t have to end with me cycling home, because now I was home.

I remember falling asleep on the couch that night. Cow slept by me. I was warm and happy and full of pizza and it was so wonderful knowing you and my new sisters were there. I still asked the angels to make me a real girl when I woke up, but I didn’t ask them to take me away to heaven if they didn’t, because I wanted to stick around in my new home and see how it would be.

Well … it didn’t take long for me to find out. I wasn’t a guest at the house any more. I was one of the kids, and that meant I had the same privileges, and the same responsibilities, and when I messed up I got in trouble just the same as Samantha did. And it was so cool being able to hang out with Samantha all the time but it didn’t take us long be to brother and sister, or sister and sister because we got into it pretty good a few times in the very first week, but we always made up. Me and Erin had a few rounds too, and still do, giggle, but she’s pretty cool for a big sister.

I didn’t have a room for the first two months because Emily was still living there. I wished I could have shared a room with Samantha, but even though I felt like a girl, I was still kind of a boy and it wouldn’t be right. You explained that to me so I understood without my feelings getting hurt or being too embarrassed.

The first two months were wonderful … and scary … and awkward … and special, and amazing, and lots of other stuff. I was pretty scared when we went over to my parent’s house to get my stuff. It was the first time I’d seen them in two weeks. My father never got out of his chair. My mother helped us get a few things together, but she was really quiet. I remember her asking me if I was happy at your house, and I told her yes. I think she wanted to cry because I could almost see tears, but she didn’t.

I know she talked to you in the kitchen for awhile when I was taking the rest of my stuff out to the car. You didn’t tell me what was said. I guess it was just between you two. I do remember you were really quiet when we drove home, and I didn’t feel much like talking neither. I guess this is kind of hard for everybody isn’t it?

The next time I saw them was at court a few weeks later. I was really nervous that day because I knew I had to talk to the judge. I wasn’t afraid to talk, because I was just going to tell the truth, and you should never be afraid of the truth. I was afraid that my parents would change their minds and say they wanted me back, or that the judge wouldn’t believe me or think I should be with you.

I’m so glad that you and all my new sisters were there that day. I remember holding your hand and you smiling at me. You told me it would be all right ,and as usual, you were right. My parents didn’t say anything bad or that they’d changed their mind and the judge only asked me one question. “Did I want to live with you?” Gee, all I had I was one line: YES! Then it was all over. We celebrated at Red Robin. I like celebrating!

Until that judge said it was okay, I was still kind of scared that I was going to have to go back, but after that I never really got scared of that again, except for the nightmares. I knew I was really finally home, a home that I wanted to be in, one that nobody was going to take away from me.

And it was after you got that legal stuff done that we really kind of went to work on me finding out who me was. We’d already all sat around the dining room table talking about what it meant that I was living here, and how everyone would be affected by me exploring my wish to be a girl. I know that it kind of felt sort of weird for everybody. It felt kind of weird for me, too, but we talked and talked and talked about it and in the end, everybody said they wanted me to find out what I wanted and they would even help if they could. Samantha said she hoped I would be a girl, because then the other kids at school would quit teasing her that we were boyfriend and girlfriend. Giggle.

Do you remember the first thing we did to help me find myself? I do. We went to the library. It was a Saturday. You asked the lady to help us find books on transsexuality. I’m glad you were there. I don’t think I could have asked her. I still felt kind of embarrassed, even though you said I shouldn’t be. We were there about three hours and we found two books and a video. That night we all watched the video and everybody thought it was pretty amazing. The books were kind of hard for me to read, so you helped me a lot, and we kind of read them together, because you said if you were going to help me, you had a lot of things you needed to learn, too. I really liked reading with you and talking about the things we read. It was my favorite time in the evening. I was kind of like our time. It was so special.

It wasn’t long after we finished the first two books that you and I went to my first doctor’s appointment, but not Dr. Fogel, the doctor you take me too when I get a bad cold or when I hurt my knee that time I wrecked my bike. You took me to see Dr. Reyes. You explained to me that she was a psychiatrist, a doctor who helps people by talking to them, not by operating on them or giving them shots. You told me she had lots of experience with kids and adults who felt just like I did. You even showed me on the internet where you’d looked her up and we read the really nice comments people had said about her.

I was really nervous the first time I met her and I wanted you to come in there with me, but you wouldn’t. You said I needed to talk to her alone, but that you’d be right outside in the waiting room. Knowing you were nearby kept me from being too afraid. If you thought I could do this, then I had to think I could do it too, because I know you wouldn’t have me talk to a stranger about this unless I could do it and I needed to do it.

When Dr. Reyes came out to the waiting room to see us, I remember thinking she was one of the prettiest ladies I’d ever seen. She was Latina and she had beautiful long black hair, big brown eyes and the happiest smile. I just knew she was a nice lady. She said you could come back with us if you wanted to, but we’d already settled that and I told her it was okay for it to be just me and her. I could tell you were proud of me when I said that.

When I sat down in the chair by her desk I started getting a little nervous, wondering what she would ask me and if I could explain everything to her so she’d believe I really wanted to be a girl. I was ready to answer some really big questions and trying to remember some of the big words I’d learned from the books we read. So she really surprised me when she asked me if I liked cartoons. I didn’t know what that had to do with me wanting to be a girl but it sure was an easy question so I answered it. She laughed when I told her I liked Sponge Bob because she said just about every kid she knew did. From there we talked about lots and lots of stuff and all of it was pretty easy. Before I knew it, the whole hour was gone and we’d hardly talked much about me wanting to be a girl at all. I thought maybe I’d messed up somehow, but she told me that I had done really well and that she was looking forward to seeing me next week if I was willing to come back. I told her I was willing. I really liked her a lot.

Then I had to sit out in the waiting room for awhile so you and she could talk. I guess you liked her too. because when you came out I remember you were smiling and thanked her for the recipe for enchiladas. Next week I thanked her, because those cheese enchiladas were so good when you made them.

I’m not really sure exactly when me and Doctor Reyes really started talking about me wanting to be a girl. It was some time during the next visit. It just sort of came out while I was talking about my parents. We sort of stayed past my appointment that time, because I just kept talking, and talking, and Doctor Reyes didn’t stop me or ask me anything, so I guess I was doing good, and she didn’t have any questions.

By the fourth meeting I think we really started going to work, talking about lots of things in our sessions, some of them making me cry, some of them making me happy and all of them making me think. I really learned so much about things, things I didn’t know about being transsexual, and things just about me.

I was mad at my parents, but I didn’t hate them. I mean, up until I told them I was a girl, they never really hit me or hollered that much at me or did bad things to me. The trouble was, they didn’t do much of anything good with me, either. They never played with me or watched movies with me, or ever even asked what I did up my room or over at your house. I’m pretty sure they cared, but they were just too busy, or not that interested, I guess. Doctor Reyes helped me to see a lot of these things and now I’m not so mad any them any more. It’s kind of like when my mother first told me about her and my father getting a divorce. She said they didn’t really hate each other. They still loved each other sort of, only they just couldn’t live together any more, because it just wouldn’t work that way. Well now with your help, and Dr. Reyes help, I understand that it’s the same with me and my parents. I do care about them, and I think they care about me some, (at least my mother), but we just don’t fit together very good. I don’t think I’m the kid they really wanted, and I don’t think they were the right parents for me, so we aren’t together anymore. Wow! I guess I sort of divorced my parents, huh? Gee, I bet I there aren’t many kids that have ever done that. Well, I’m glad I did, because now I have a mom and a family I do fit with, and who really want me for the me that I am. Hugs!

Within a few months of going to see Dr. Reyes, I started having lots and lots of firsts and you were a part of every one of them. You took me to your hair stylist at the mall once my hair was long enough and I got my first “kind of girl” hair style. I could wear it down and still sort of look like a boy or with a little blow drying and wearing it up, I could look kinda girlish.

You took me and Samantha and Erin to the mall for my first real mall hop. We didn’t buy any girl clothes the first time because I wasn’t ready, but it was really cool to go into those stores and look at the clothes that I always wished I could wear. Every time I got a little scared or nervous or thought someone was staring at me, I just found you. You would look at me and do something silly and then I wasn’t scared or nervous any more. It was so much fun and it felt so right. That was something else Dr. Reyes taught me. While trying to find out if I really am a girl or not, you sort of have to try lots of things on, kind of like clothes, and if they fit and feel right, then its probably right. If it doesn’t fit right, or you don’t like it, it’s probably not the style for you. So far just about everything girl fits me perfect, I think.

You helped with my first make over. That was a whole lot of fun. I didn’t realize just how much stuff a girl does when they put on make up. I thought I’d never be able to put on eyeliner. My lids got so red from all the times I had to take it off and try again. Remember when Erin said I made a perfect raccoon? Giggle.

You helped me with my new girl name. I’ll never forget the “Girl naming Party” we had. All of us had baby books and we sat around trying out new names for me and looking up what they meant. That was a blast, and you kept coming up with silly ones likes Frieda May Booger Eater. In the end, I chose Katie. Well, really, it is Kaitlyn, but that’s the official name. I liked Katie, because of a girl basketball player named Katie (she’s the one on the poster in my room) and well … it just sort of fit me I thought. Emily said I definitely looked like a Katie, that is, whatever a Katie is supposed to look like. Samantha said she’d like having a sister named Katie. That was the first time she really called me a sister. You wrote up an unofficial document at the dining room table that said my new name was Kaitlyn and we all signed it. You said it would be quite awhile before we would have a real court one. You took it to work and had it laminated for me and we put it in a frame. It’s dated, and I can see it now sitting on the shelf next to Emily’s graduation picture. You made my name extra special when you came up with a nickname for me like all the rest of my sisters. I was Katie Bug, because you said that I was cute as bug.

You were with me when we went back to the mall and we bought my first outfit … no, giggle, like, four outfits! You bought me my first and only doll that weekend too. Yeah I know it’s pretty silly a girl my age having a doll, but I wanted one and Dr. Reyes said it was understandable, because I never had one when I should have had one. Still, I was kind of embarrassed, thinking that you would think I was silly to want a doll or way too old for something like that. Do you remember what you said when I finally told you? You said, “If you want something, ask for it, and if you really want it, then do what you have to do to get it. Don’t be afraid of what others think; only you are responsible for making yourself happy.” We went to Toys’R’Us that afternoon and I got Maggie. She’s on my vanity, and I love her with all my heart, and I don’t feel stupid because I do. And speaking of kid things … thanks for coloring with me at the dining room table, singing “Part of Your World” to me from the Little Mermaid (Me and Emily’s favorite Disney movie) and pushing me on the swings at the park. Thank you for all the things you did for “Katie Bug”, the little girl who never really got to be a little girl.

Remember the first time I went outside dressed in my new clothes? I was so nervous, my knees were knocking. I can’t believe I wore my baby blue dress and those white tights. OMG, I looked like Alice in Wonderland. And all of you were in jeans and shorts. I was so overdressed for Puchini’s but I wanted to make a statement. I wanted the whole world to know I was Katie and that I was your daughter and that you said that was okay. Of course I spilled pizza all over the dress, so I guess everyone knew I was your youngest daughter and a real goof. Yeah that was a very special day, but what really made it special, and what made it even possible, was that you were there.

And you, (with Emily’s help), gave me my first real girl’s bedroom. I was so surprised. I knew Emily was moving out and that I would probably get her room, because you really wanted to get me off your couch, but I didn’t know when Samantha and I went to band day camp that Saturday, that you had operation Bug’s Bedroom in full swing. And you were so bad, too, because we were all tired from camp when you picked us up and then you said that Emily hadn’t had time to get any of her stuff packed up in her room, so we had to go up and do it for her while she was at work. Me and Samantha moaned and groaned the whole way home. You called us lazy cows. Giggle.

Well … I’ll never forget when Samantha and I trudged up those stairs like we really were cows in combat boots, and then we got to Emily’s room and we got the most incredible surprise. Not only were Emily and Erin there, but all of Emily’s personal stuff was packed up and gone. Her beautiful white bedroom suite was still there, and you told me it was ALL MINE! You even got the old canopy that went with it out of the attic where you’d put it when Emily said she was too old for things like that. I cried when you told me it was all mine, and I pounced Emily so hard we both hit the floor. It was almost the room of my dreams, and all it needed was my personal stuff and a coat of pink paint. The very next day were at Lowe’s looking at paint strips. It took a while, way too long, according to Samantha, but I finally found the Princess Pink I wanted and that night we had a blast, eating pizza, dancing to tunes and painting my room. Thank you so much for all of it.

I’ll never ever forget my “Period Party”. I remember Emily thought it was kind of gross to celebrate a girl’s first period with red decorations, a red meal (cheese lasagna) and a red dessert (Red velvet cake), but I thought it was totally beast. Now you knew I was never going to have a real period, but you didn’t want me to miss any part of what a girl goes through when she grows up if I didn’t have to, so … you took the very special day that Dr. Reyes gave me my first prescription for female hormones and celebrated it as my own personal rite of passage. Erin said I was lucky because I got the party without the pads. I don’t think I’m really that lucky to miss out on that stuff, because it’s all part of being a girl and I wish I could have it even if it is icky. I tried to explain that to her, and I don’t think I did such a good job, but you understood and just gave me another serving of chocolate cherry ice cream.

And there were the other two big court dates, although one of them wasn’t really in front of a judge. It was in front of some people from the school board so it kind of felt like it was a whole team of judges. The one where we went to court and you went from being my guardian to my official adopted mom was a little scary, some because I was dressed as a girl and I wasn’t sure what the judge would think about that, and some because I was afraid maybe something would go wrong, but it didn’t. You told me it wouldn’t then said I was your little, “Princess Worry Wart.” I thought my parents might say something to me, bad or good, when they came to court, but they didn’t even show. I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised. I haven’t seen my parents since the first time we went to court. My mother used to call every once in a while, but I haven’t heard from her since summer. That was when I told her my new name was Katie. She didn’t seem really very happy about that. So far, I haven’t gotten a birthday card from her. I’m kind of thinking I won’t get one anymore.

When we went to court I was kind of glad the judge was a lady, because it’s kind of easier to talk to other girls and ladies sometimes, because they don’t seem so wierded out by me. Guys sometimes get sort of nervous, like their underwear is too tight, ya know? I didn’t know if I’d get a chance to talk much or not when I met this judge. The last time I only got one question, but this time she let me talk more, and I did just what you said. I was honest with her and told her exactly how I felt, and what I wanted, and where I wanted to live, and I made it real clear it was with you and my sisters. I remember looking back at you a few times, and you just smiled. You told me before we went to court that you couldn’t speak for me. I had to do that myself, but you would be there with me, just like you’d been there with me so many times before when I had to do things. Well … I guess I said the right things that day or I wouldn’t be sitting at our dining room table right now.

And the team of “judges”, was the school board. We had to meet with them when WE decided I was ready to go live full time as a girl, which meant that I’d be going back in August as a girl to the same school that I’d left in May as a boy. You said you would try to get me into another school if I wanted to, and you pointed out just how tough it might be facing my old friends and teachers. You, me and Dr. Reyes talked a long time about that, and you both helped me realize in the end that it was going to be tough, no matter where I went to school. And there were already some people at my school who knew about me, because I had been living it almost full time that summer. The big thing you asked me was what you always asked me. “What is it that you want to do?” I told you I wanted to go to school with my sister Samantha, and play in the band with her. Once I said that, we never looked back.

The school board people weren’t as nice as the judge in the real court, and there were some parents there too, who stood up and said they didn’t think it was right for me to go to school as a girl, and they didn’t want their sons and daughters exposed to me. What they said kind of hurt, because I didn’t like people to be mad at me or hate me when I hadn’t really done anything to them. They kind of made me feel like I had some contagious disease or something. But what you said to them made me feel okay again, and made them go really quiet. A few people even applauded. In the end, I got to go to my school as Katie. I have to use the handicapped restroom all the time, and I have to dress there for gym, too, but it doesn’t matter that much. I get to be ME and I couldn’t have done it without you.

The first school day as Katie was pretty scary. I wanted you to walk me to class, but you wouldn’t do it. You said I was going to have to make this walk without you being at my side because you weren’t going to walk me to class every day, so there was no reason to do it the first day. I was kind of mad at you for that, but later on I understood. You were just trying to teach me to be brave and tough and I needed to learn that. Of course Samantha walked me to class anyway, and you knew that was going to happen, but you never said anything. That first day was really rough. I couldn’t even eat lunch, even though, wouldn’t’ you know, it was pizza. But I made it through it. A lot of the kids didn’t say much to me, and some of the ones that did said some pretty hateful things. Even a few of the teachers acted like their underwear was too tight when I walked into their room, but I got through it. I lost some friends, but I made some better ones during the first six weeks and by semester end I was almost just another punk gothic princess type girl, only with a little more pink than Samantha says I should wear, Giggle. Okay … so maybe I’m not really just another middle school girl yet, maybe I never will be. I don’t know, but it’s still better than being a middle school boy.

I’m going to have to wrap this up, Mom. I hear Samantha upstairs in the bathroom so she’ll be down in a minute, and I want to finish it before she gets here. I want to thank you for the discussion we had last weekend. I asked you if we could take a walk out by the pond, and like Samantha, you knew that meant we needed to talk. We talked about a lot of things while at the pond: my parents, my sisters, school, band, my body and about a million other things but we’d never talked before about boys, at least not boys as boyfriends. It took about three laps around the pond for me to finally work up the courage for that one. You knew it was something pretty big, and you pretty much just let me go on and on saying a whole lot of nothing until I was ready to really talk.

Finally … I asked you about your first boyfriend and when you first really starting being interested in boys. I think you knew where I was going then, because we stopped walking and sat down. You answered the questions I asked and then started answering the questions I really wanted to ask but was having trouble finding the words for. We were there until it was almost dark, but I felt so much better when we walked home arm in arm. You helped me realize that it was okay if I liked boys, and it was okay if I liked girls, and it was especially okay if right now I didn’t know for sure who I liked, because honestly I didn’t know. You told me that you had told my sisters the very same thing when they had come to you about boys. In time each of us would find out who we thought was attractive, and it didn’t matter if it was boys or girls or even both. The important thing was to be honest with yourself and go for what feels right. Gosh, that advice keeps coming up all the time, doesn’t it? You said that you didn’t have to worry about me getting pregnant, although you hoped I’d have children one day. You said being a grandmother who spoils her grandkids rotten is the only way a mother can get even with her kids for all the hell they put her through. Giggle.

I remember you were quick to add that even if I couldn’t get pregnant, I could get diseases, and if I even thought about experimenting with anyone, you wanted me to come to you and we’d discuss protection. I told you I would. Just in case you want to know, I still don’t feel ready for anything like that, but with the way Samantha goes on about cute boys all the time, I think I’m starting to lean one way a little.

When we came back from our “sex talk” at the pond, I felt so much better. I don’t know how you always find just the right words to say when I need them most, but somehow you always do. Grandma Jean says you got it from her, and you say, “”Grandma has Alzheimer’s (giggle). No matter how you got it, I am so glad you share it with me.

I hear Samantha again. She’s hollering about her black sweater. I did not borrow it and it wasn’t my turn to keep up with it or do the laundry. But you know how she gets. She’s such a drama queen. Of course, she says the same think about me. I don’t think she told you, but yesterday when we were coming home I walked up to the back door and when I started thinking about how lucky I was to be living here, to have you and my sisters and to be able to grow up as a girl. I just started bawling … and she’s like, “what’s your problem?” and I tried to tell her and she just shook her head and said I was such a total girl. I nodded, then I hugged her and cried some more. If you had been there you would have laughed and called me your little hairy hormone again.

Mom, I’ve written a lot about all the things you’ve helped me with and the things I’ve been through, but now at 14, and almost six months of living full time as a girl and loving it, I’m thinking an awful lot about the next big step. You know what I’m talking about. We’ve been all over the internet, and we’ve had a meeting with Dr. Reyes on it. You even contacted the surgeon’s office and spoke with his nurse about the age requirement. I wouldn’t give you any peace until you did. I’ve got a copy of the letter from his office posted on my wall and you have the original in my folder with all the rest of the important papers. If I keep on being happy with what I am doing and I know that isn’t going to change, and if Dr. Reyes will give me a letter, and if you will give permission, and (this is the big one I know) and you have the money. I could get my gender reassignment surgery when I’m 16. OMG … I just thought about this. This very same day two years from now, I could be on an operating table with my feet in stirrups and getting a brand new vagina! Yeah!

I sure hope it happens then, but if I have to wait a little longer, I guess it’s okay, because no matter when I have it, I know like through everything else, you are going to be there when they take me into surgery, and you will be there when I wake up. I just know you will, because you’re mom and I you love me.

Mom, you have been there for every little baby step, giant leap and horrible flop I’ve taken on my road to becoming not only a girl, but also a grown up. You’ve been there for the nightmares, the doctor’s appointments, the court appearances, the shopping trips, the band concerts, and the walks around the pond. And you’ve always known what I needed, whether it's a laugh, a hug or a kick in the butt. You’ve always had wise words, chocolate, thirty minutes to talk whenever I asked, and an extra few dollars for a mall hop. You’ve always been interested in what I was doing, and you encouraged me to reach for what I want. Thanks to you, I know cooking vegetarian style, the history of the Tudor and Stuart monarchies in England, half the words to every well known show tune, (Giggle), and so much more.

Mom I know I’m your adopted daughter so I know some people would say that means you didn’t give me life. Well … I’ve been thinking about that. No, you didn’t give birth to me, but I still think in a way you gave me life, at least my life as a girl. I mean think about what would have happened to me if you hadn’t cared enough or loved me enough to bring me home. If I was livng with my mother or my father I was still be a very miserable boy. If I’d lived with my Grandmother Lillian, I probably would have been burned at the stake by now. If I lived with my Uncle Gene, he’d have me out in the woods making a man out of me! Yeah my mother gave birth to me which means she gave me life, but when you loved me enough to become my mom you saved my life and helped make it happier and so much better. I love you Mom.

Mom, I really got to go because Samantha finally found her sweater. It was in my room. I don’t know how I’m going to get out of this one.

Oh yeah, remember last night when you asked me if there was anything special I really wanted for my birthday ,and I said I would let you know? Well … I gave it a lot of thought and then I remembered that sad little boy who asked the angels to make him a girl and a part of your family. Well thanks to you, Mom, my wish came true. Now I have everything that little boy and this fourteen year old girl could ever ask for.

Thanks Mom, thanks for loving me and making me a part of the real life Gilmore Girls, and for helping me find myself. So I guess I don’t need anything else for this birthday. Of course, I wouldn’t exactly turn down a shopping spree to Plato’s Closet or a Wii Game System. Hint!

I love you, Mom, your daughter Katie Bug

P.S. Samantha hasn’t come down yet. Now that she has her sweater, she’s changing pants, so I got a few minutes. I reread part of the letter and tried to fix some of the grammar (okay you’re right, I can do better than C+ in that class), and while doing that, I kind of noticed the letter is pretty sugary sweet for someone who is supposed to be at least half a Goth.

Sorry, I can’t help being so happy to be here. You call me Princess Pollyanna some days and then say that you thought for sure “the new kid just happy to be in the house” attitude would have worn off by now. You say I should have seen you for the mean rotten witch you truly are months ago, and then threaten to toss me up in the attic if I don’t start acting more ungrateful, moody and miserable, just like the other girls. Giggle.

Mom … I know that I do kind of go all sunshine and rainbows, especially about being here and being a girl, and sometimes it all seems so magical and perfect, just like my daydreams and Gilmore Girl episodes. But I do know the real truth. Nothing in the real world is perfect, (except maybe your cheese enchiladas from Dr. Reyes’ recipe, giggle). Girls aren’t perfect, although we’d never admit that to boys, but being a girl just sort of seems perfect for me. And maybe you aren’t the perfect mom, but I think that of all the mom’s in the whole world, you are the perfect one for me, because I could never love or want any other Mom like I do you.

And maybe there isn’t real “Charmed” magic in the world, but when we have our Bohemian Nights, where we sit on the floor and eat, or turn out all the lights on a Friday night and dance, or you come busting into my room singing, “I Feel Pretty” from Westside Story, or I lay next to you on the floor while we watch a movie or your cooking show, it feels magical to me.

Mom, maybe you can’t understand sometimes why I feel the way I feel, and I don’t just mean about the transgender stuff. I mean, why I get all weepy and Susie Sunshine about being here. All I can tell you is that maybe sometimes I do get all goofy about having these things now, but it’s because I remember what it was like when I didn’t have them before. It was like I wasn’t even alive. I hope that make sense.

I love you Mom, thanks for choosing to make me your daughter.

P.S.S. Did I mention that Plato’s Closet is open on Sunday’s until 7 during the holidays and that the Wii Game System is on sale at Best Buy?