According to my medical records, I gave birth to a son in the year 2000. Despite a stressful birth and a minor physical issue which had to be corrected surgically, his development was fairly normal. Throughout childhood, my child played with a full range of toys, including train sets, remote-controlled cars, Lego, and comic books. There were times riding quad bikes, climbing straw bales, and playing in the mud (and much worse) on the farm. But also there was a fully-furnished dolls house, colouring books, and an enviable collection of Bratz dolls and accessories.
L was never into team sports (football, rugby) and played more with girls than boys. I never thought anything of this as I am a strong believer that each child should find their own likes and dislikes and not be overly influenced by their parents.
Through the school years, L would often get called gay (especially by boys) and, to some extent, this was what myself and other adults thought. It wasn’t until L turned 15 earlier this year that it suddenly dawned that my child was gender-dysmorphic. I knew that L had been unhappy in a male body (especially once the changes due to puberty started kicking in) and the more we talked about things the more clear it became.
So we are starting out on the next stage of a long journey and I hope to use this blog to put a parent’s perspective on that journey. We have already been through psychiatric assessment (more about that in another post), we have become part of the trans community in South Wales, and we are now waiting for the first visit to the Tavistock Centre in London.