Ryan's Daughter

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A story based in Wales, though it could be anywhere, of how some people cope with a potentially difficult situation using the one resource we are all capable of using, love.

I hope you will enjoy. Angharad.

Ryan’s Daughter.
by
Angharad.

“Do your homework, Rhiannon,” Heulwen stood with her hands on her hips.

“Aww, Mam, can’t I do it later?”

“You know what we agreed, now go and do it or it’ll be up to bed for you without any stories.”

“Yes, Mam,” Rhiannon sloped off to the dining room and sat at the table again with her books.

Her mother looked back at her as she sucked on her pen whilst doing her maths homework. She was a pretty kid, twelve years old and bonny as they come. She went back to her ironing, it was as big a chore as Rhiannon’s homework, but she would finish as soon as her daughter did her homework and then they would sit down together and read, it was her favourite time of the day.

The stories they read were on the internet, there weren’t many available of the genre which Rhiannon liked best, stories about girls who were once considered to be boys.

As Heulwen slid the hissing iron to remove the creases from her daughter’s school blouse, she thought back over how they had got to where they were now.

Thirteen years ago when she had first become pregnant and she and Ryan had celebrated their first child to be, they had said they didn’t care what it was as long as it was healthy. They had christened the growing bulge, ‘Chwydd’, and celebrated its development. Heulwen was sure it was a girl, Ryan that it would be a boy. Sometimes they wondered if it was twins it seemed to be growing so big and also seemed to have loads more arms and legs than the average human.

As the pregnancy neared its full term, ‘Chwydd’ seemed to sit or lie on its mother’s bladder more and more often, and she chided it for having to run to the toilet so frequently.

Her parents were so pleased, they were going to be grandparents at last. They hoped there would be more than one grandchild and Ryan had joked they would have three kids, one of each.

His parents-in-law looked bemused; “You know, a boy, a girl and one don’t know.”

“Don’t joke about such things, Ryan; you know how people talk about that sort of thing.”

“Glenys, surely these days people are a bit more enlightened than that.”

“I wish they were, Ryan, but you know how they gossip in small towns and villages.”

How you gossip, you mean, he thought to himself. “Well don’t worry, Chwydd, is going to be perfect.

“Chwydd?”

“Yes, Heulwen’s little bulge, her chwydd.”

“You silly boy, calling your future son or daughter such a name.”

“Well others call them sprog or other equally ugly names until they are born and christened,” and sometimes after that.

He was present at the delivery and when he held his child for the first time and saw how small it was, he realised Heulwen had been carrying quite a lot of water. “Is this it?” He asked knowing full well it was, he’d been present at the birth, which had been a reasonably straightforward one for a first baby.

“Of course it is, why?” asked the midwife who had helped with the delivery.

“I thought we had a bigger litter than this. He’s a bit small isn’t he?”

“That’s why he came out so easily.”

“Yeah, two coughs and out he popped.”

“If it was so bloody easy, Ryan Jones, you can have the next one.”

“I’ll pass on that,” he said, “now you’ve got the hang of it, I’ll let you do the easy bit. You’ll never know how hard it is standing here watching, Dew, t’is worse than watching Wales pushing in the scrum against the bloody English.”

“Men!” said Heulwen, “if they had to have babies they’d have become extinct with Adam.”

The midwife laughed.

The blouse ironed, she took the pleated skirt and pulled it over the end of the ironing board before continuing the reverie. Twelve years ago, their beloved baby boy had been safely delivered and then they brought him home.

She was astonished, the once neutral nursery was now pale blue and still smelled slightly of paint. The mobiles hanging over the cot were of cars not butterflies and the blue teddy bear summed things up pretty well, he was dressed as a rugby player. Ryan it seemed had certain assumptions about his son.

However Rhys, as they named their beloved child seemed to be anything but the boisterous boy his father wanted. He remained smaller than expected and didn’t like rough housing with his dad. He loved to be with his dad but didn’t want to fight with him and seemed to cry so easily appearing frightened by physical effort.

For all his lost aspirations, Ryan loved his kid and the boy his father. They went everywhere together although Ryan was concerned when he saw Rhys preferring to play with dolls whenever he got the chance rather than cars or footballs.

Ryan and Heulwen even had the odd row about Rhys’ obvious missing masculinity. “Let the boy alone, if he doesn’t want to be a big puddin’ head and play rugby, what does it matter?”

“The bloody kid would rather play with dollies than cars or guns, you’re not stopping him are you?”

“Me? How dare you! I let him be himself, if he wants to play with dolls, we’ll get him a doll.”

“Oh no we won’t, I won’t have a son of mine like some bloody nancy-boy!”

“Look sweetheart, it’s probably just a phase he’s going through, humour him, I’m sure he’ll grow out of it.”

So they got him a doll and then a pram and then a cot and then loads of doll’s clothes and Rhys was happy. Ryan wasn’t, he was very confused and not a little frightened.

One day soon after they had bought Rhys the doll and accessories, his parents sat enjoying a cup of tea and watching him play, when he picked up his doll which he called Cerys.

“Come to yer mam,” he said picking up his doll, and holding it against him he gave it its bottle, “Drink it up nicely for Mammy.”

Ryan looked at Heulwen his eyes wide with horror. “Did he just say what I think he did?”

She nodded back. “Rhys are you being a good daddy for your baby?”

“No, I’m her mam, just like you.”

Ryan was about to explode, but Heulwen stopped him. “I thought you were Cerys’ daddy.”

“No mam, I’m her mam.”

“But you’re a boy, Rhys, boys become daddies.”

“I don’t wanna be a daddy, I’m her mam.”

“Okay cariad.”

From then on, things seemed to get worse. When he was enrolled in nursery school, the teacher called Heulwen in to see her. “Is Rhys a boy?”

“Of course he is,” defended his mother, “how can you ask that?”

“Each morning this week he’s dressed up in the dressing up clothes in a long dress and played with the dollies.”

“So, he’s probably experimenting with gender roles.”

“I asked him about it, and he told me he has several dollies at home, plus all the accessories.”

“Erm,” blushed Heulwen, “it’s what he said he wanted for his birthday, maybe he’s going to be an obstetrician or a paediatrician.”

“Or a mammy?”

Oh shit! “What do you mean?”

“Well that’s how he describes himself, doesn’t he have any contact with his father?”

“Of course he does, he just likes playing with dolls, no harm in that is there?”

“If it continues, I’ll have to get the psychologist to see him, just watch him play, if only to prove we’re not influencing him. I hope you’re okay with that?”

“I suppose so. I keep hoping he’ll grow out of it, but he doesn’t. He keeps asking me why he can’t have long hair like the other girls. It’s driving his dad absolutely mad. He loves him to bits but is finding it so hard to cope with having a son who seems more like a girl.”

“He may well grow out of it, I’ve seen other boys who like to play with girl’s toys but not as consistently as Rhys, I think it might be worth an evaluation.”

“I’ll speak to Ryan, we’re just frightened it will be stuck on his record and follow him forever more.”

Heulwen emptied out the iron at the same time as Rhiannon put her pens away. “Can we do stories now?”

“Of course, cariad.”

“Shall I switch on the computer?”

“Yes, I’ll bring some milk and biscuits.”

Rhiannon was very good and never attempted to access the sites from which the stories came. They were adult sites, which some would label porno sites, although the two or three Heulwen had found carried very little which could be described as pornographic. However, to be safe, she downloaded the stories she deemed suitable, and they read them together from the computer’s memory or she printed them off.

One which was largely suitable with a bit of editing had run for over two hundred episodes and seemed to still be going strong, the same author had produced two or three other serials which Heulwen considered suitable for Rhiannon, but she wondered how anyone could find the time to type all this stuff, entertaining as it was.

Some of the other stories were funny or romantic, some were almost in the category of tragedy and Rhiannon cried at those, mind you so did Heulwen. Some of the authors were very talented writers, and there was one about a summer camp which Rhiannon really liked.

Over the twelve years so much had changed. The psychologist was convinced there was family pressure but could find no evidence for it. Ryan nearly went ballistic at that. Her parents backed him up, telling the psychologist that any pressure there was on the child was to be a normal boy, but he didn’t want to know or didn’t have the wherewithal to do it.

The GP was involved, sent off blood tests but they were normal, so were chromosomes and hormone levels. They referred to a specialist clinic and they were equally foxed, eventually deciding it must Gender Identity Disorder.

“Pity you don’t live in Holland or Scandinavia, they seem much better suited to helping with all this,” said the clinic.

So that’s what they did. Ryan who was a computer expert got a job in Holland and they sought help there. It was forthcoming and although Rhys was too young for any oestrogen they did prescribe anti-androgens to prevent masculinisation. Though this came with the price of regular blood tests to check liver function.

The families rallied round, and when Rhys transitioned they all sent her cards and presents. She chose the name Rhiannon after her friend in nursery and the Celtic goddess.

That was two years before and Rhiannon had spent nearly a year living as a girl in Holland before they came back to the UK. Heulwen had wanted the doctors to prescribe oestrogens but none of them would, their argument was she was too young.

“But with the hormone blockers, shouldn’t she have something to replace them?”

“No, it’s only the secondary effects they prevent, body hair, beard that sort of thing, plus muscle development.”

“What about breast and hip development? She’s going to be behind all her contemporaries when she goes back to school.”

“Girls all develop at different rates, she’ll probably get a small amount of breast growth in the absence of the testosterone, her natural oestrogens will be more effective.”

“Isn’t there anything we can do?”

“I suppose you could give her soya isoflavones.”

“What’s that?”

“Phytogens, a sort of plant hormone that is similar to oestrogen, but it’s available over the counter.”

“Are they safe?”

“Do you think I’d be telling you if I thought they weren’t?”

“No I suppose not.”

So that’s what Heulwen did, they weren’t exactly cheap nor did they have much effect–at first–then over the following year, Rhiannon had small breast buds, at least as big as most of the girls in her class and she didn’t feel so left out.

They had returned to Wales, but to Cardiff, a city where they could keep in touch with family but be anonymous.

Rhiannon was accepted as a girl by the local school and she fitted in very well, just having to be a little careful in changing rooms and showers. Thankfully, the showers were all cubicles. She made the hockey and netball teams and even had one or two valentines cards that first year.

Heulwen and Ryan began to relax, they saw how much happier she was than he had been. There were still bridges to cross and there was always the risk of disclosure, but it was worth it to see their child reach her potential, which is the duty of all parents. They decided they had done the right thing, which reluctantly Ryan’s parents agreed was the case, they had been horrified at first, but then they saw how happy Rhiannon was and after talking with Heulwen’s parents, agreed it was a special case and they allowed the photos of their grandson to disappear and ones of their granddaughter to emerge in their place.

“You know,” said Daniel, Ryan’s dad, to Glenys, Heulwen’s mum, “I’d always thought this gender swapping stuff was closet gays trying to legitimise themselves, but Rhiannon has made me rethink all of that. She hasn’t been around long enough to decide which way she swings, yet she knows she’s a girl. So maybe, it is something biological.”

“Dan, of course it is, how could it happen otherwise, you saw her acting like a girl when she was a babe in arms, it was just that none of us recognised it. She wasn’t an aberrant boy, she was a natural girl and now she’s on the road to fulfilling that.”

“Damn Glen, I hadn’t thought of it like that, yeah, that’s pretty well how it is. I feel better now.”

Glenys shook her head, not quite understanding why it seemed okay for a girl to want to be a boy but not the other way around. But once Daniel seemed to see a perspective of a girl with a problem rather than a boy who wanted to be a girl, it seemed easier for him to understand. “Bloody men,” said Glenys under her breath, then went back to share in the celebrations of Rhiannon’s birthday party.

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Comments

Sweet

and Nice little story! This is the kind of future I hope with all my heart comes true. I know it does happen now but not as much as it needs too. Again very good!
hugs!
grover

Oh yeah Sweet

Not only men though. But I'm sure we all know that. Nice sweet story Angharad, the advertising made me laugh heartily, and I do indeed wonder where you find the time to write all this. You're not by chance writing even more under a different nom de plume are you? Cause by the amount you push out I wouldn't think it beyond you, it seems like some sort of compelling need.

Thanks for this one, it was as warm as ever.

Jo-Anne

Thank you, Angharad

This is a delightful story, sensitively told. It rings a lot of bells for me and my darling Trish. I know she will love it.

Huge hugs,

Hilary

Lovely Parents

joannebarbarella's picture

Nice story. If only,
Joanne

Chwydd...

What does it translate to?

The Legendary Lost Ninja

Chwydd

Chwydd is a swelling/bulge.

Nice Story Angharad.

Hugs

Alys

What a lovely story!

... Thank you for a story that most kids could dream of. Parents/family that love them so much they do whatever it takes to help them be the person they want and need to be. BTW - subtlty doesn't hide the story references you made. :-) I've enjoyed them as well.

Thank you again!

Annette

Do you point to a need?

Very, very well done - as always.

Are there any children's books or stories for those in Rhiannon's position? It would seem to be a niche market that would have a home on the Internet, but I've not really thought of it before...

He conquers who endures. ~ Persius

It was because of the total lack…

…of stories for GID kids about GID kids that I started looking on the net and happened on BC. Fortunately there are stories that are not overtly sexual or fetishistic that I can download, edit and print out for Trish and I to read at bed-time every night. It has become a very special time for us. Trish adored this story because it was *her* story in almost every detail. Thank you, Angharad, for showing what can be done for a younger audience; you and others like Kaleigh with her Marcie stories and Alys with Price to Pay are fulfilling a definite need.

Hilary

Why did I write this story?

Angharad's picture

Primarily because I wanted to write something specifically for a very special young lady and I had promised her mum that I would.

Why was it so biographical? The comments/PMs I get which are the most wonderful to receive, are those with which someone can really identify, especially from their own experience. Occasionally, I've had some asking if I'd been there, when a situation occurred which was very close to those in one of my stories. So I wanted one that my special reader could identify with and thus feel it was for her, which it was (She had supplied me with enough background to personalise it).

I also wanted to register my recognition of some very special parents, which I hope I achieved although I know how modest they are about it. I'd like to shout it from the rooftops because the parents who make up Mermaids*, the UK charity for GID children, are special. I've met one or two and they are wonderful people who don't get enough recognition.

Finally, I wanted it short so it didn't become too involved (remember my soap was intended as a one off blog) which I have a tendency to do.

Special Hugs to T & H,

Angharad

*PS Remember that profits from sales of Gaby Stories at Maddy Bell's site, go to Mermaids.

Angharad

There are some websites

Where parents of transgendered children share their experiences, and I've found them amazingly uplifting.

It's quite another world from the one I grew up in.

That's not to say, of course, that all obstacles have been removed! But it's wonderful to know that there are parents and others who understand.

A Very Sweet Story Angharad.

I love the way that you have touted various stories here at Big Closet. Me, I can see this young lady actually growing into a young woman. She reminds me a lot of Helen in Maddy Bell's Gaby series. you have a treasure her, I hope that it as priceless as Bike is.
May Your Light Forever Shine

    Stanman
May Your Light Forever Shine

Which dream?

Was it the one where you're standing on a pyramid dressed in kinda sun-god robes and thousands of naked women are screaming your name and throwing tiny pickles at you?

Dreams

That's MY dream, thank you very much :-)

But like Gwen, I wish more families were like the one's in Angharad's story.

Sinisterpenguin

Caring like the family...

... Angharad showed. Oh, I most definitely would like that. Do I wish more families had to go through what this family did? Do I wish there were more transgendered people? Not really. I can't wish that on people - no matter how supporting and helpful a family is, or even society is, that is a lot to burden a person with.

But oh, do I wish more families could recognize early "symptoms", and allow their children to develop as they need to, rather than push them to develop in some other way, perhaps supressing a significant part of themselves.

As I said earlier, Angharad, thank you for writing this.

Annette

You and Edeyn are very strange, I like it.

Dreams about tiny pickles being thrown at a priestess have me crosing my legs in selfdefence. My pickle is staying where it is, thanyouverymuch.

Ang, a sweet, senstive story. I am impressed yet againat your skill as a storyteller.

As to the dormouse-mad cyclist, she been feeling sick the last few days, stomach cramps I think. Is it flu or the stress with the upcomming surgery and Stella's near death? Is is a reaction to being off the prescribed hormones? Is it her own bodies hormones and from what souse?????? She always was rather female in apearance even before the drugs, is she intersexed and all the drugs then the withdrawl brought on her menstral cycle?

I'm probably reading something from nothing here but damn it, I want that woman to be happy! And SHE will only be happy popping out babies like Spike so she can have her own team of junior reseachers and budding superheroines. "Simon, give me another Brazil nut and make love to me."

Cathy, the mouse that roared.

John in Wauwatosa

John in Wauwatosa

Talking about strange

And I quote, "Simon, give me another Brazil nut and make love to me." :)
hugs!
grover

Lovely

[Darn! I keep hitting "write to author" when I mean to add a comment!]

I have to say the Welsh bits add a lot of the charm. Rhys to Rhiannon is a pretty change.

And that the child was so emphatic from such a small age: "I'm a mam." It's often a shocker for the parents, but it is so lovely when they can cope with it.

Chwydd on my horizon.

I think this is a lovely homage to Hilary and Trish. You are a good writer
Angharad. Big talent, and a bigger heart!

I think I understand that ‘Chwydd” means bulge or lump, in which I hope
I’m correct.

Thank you,

Sarah Lynn.

Dear Hilary

laika's picture

It is. A wonderful story in its own right, but it does seem written with Hilary & Trish
in mind, and extra poignant for that. At the risk of embarrassing somebody, though I only
really know you periforally through your comments, I think you're pretty special, Hilary!
While the past can't be changed, it's beautiful to see a growing number of parents
who do understand and accept gender variance...
~~~hugs, Laika

“Bloody men"

giggles.

Nice, sweet little story.

Glad I stumbled upon it.

DogSig.png

*happy sigh*

I've read this story a few times now, and every time I reach the end, I find myself smiling. Thank you so much for sharing it, Angharad! :)

My pleasure.

Angharad's picture

Glad you have enjoyed it more than once, thank you for saying so.

Angharad