I’m listening to the classic track “Children” by Robert Miles right now. But this article isn’t about 90s dance music.
One of the things I have known about myself since a very early age is that I really want to be a parent. I can’t really explain it. I suppose in some ways, it’s biological – living creatures want to have children to ensure survival of the species and so forth. But it’s more innate than that somehow. Nothing in the world would quite give me the pride, the pleasure, the satisfaction, than to see a child of mine living their best life.
I have had but a tiny taste of that sort of feeling in my wonderful cat family. Raising Melody since she was just three weeks old has been a source of joy for me. We have a loving and unbreakable bond. She will actually push my laptop out of the way to snuggle me and while I’m sure I have been annoyed at that once or twice, really, it is one of the most precious things. She wants to snuggle me. She knows I am a source of love and comfort for her. And she amazes me every day: how she picks out which toy she wants to play with. How she calculates in her mind how exactly to jump up on the desk so she misses all the dishes and the keyboard and whatever other stuff is on it and lands perfectly with her paws on the wood itself. She has learned how to open doors on her own. I remember when I first saw her staring at the doorknob, and then figuring out that’s how it worked, and figuring out to turn and pull at the same time. And then she walked out of the room by herself! I had such a swell of pride and happiness that my little girl had learned a new skill.
I can’t even imagine what that would feel like with a little me. To teach them how to speak, read, write. Their first drawing, their first story. Or maybe they wouldn’t make up stories. Maybe they’d have adventures in their imagination around building things. Or being a pilot. Or making clothes. Or anything! There are so many things we can do, so many things to learn, so many ways to fulfil ourselves. And I would do everything I could do to support them in whatever it is they wanted to be.
And oh, the trials. I know a little about these too, via my cat family. Taking Mr Gaz to the emergency vet when he seemed to be having a serious medical issue. It was thankfully only a food sensitivity – easily fixed with better food. Still, that was one of the scariest things in my life. Cleaning up the messes. And I mean every kind of mess, from every sort of body part you can think of that could create a mess. I’ve had cat earwax on my computer screen from them rubbing on it. I’ve found nose stuff from sneezes on the window. You get the picture. It isn’t always pretty or roses. Still, it is all worth it.
Now, being a trans woman makes this a bit more difficult. But it isn’t impossible. There are still two ways that I can have a child. One is biological, and the other is adoption. And this was the source of that fight between my friend and me last week.
There are differences between the two. And I think each one is a uniquely beautiful thing. But let me zoom out a little bit.
You see, I’m considering going on HRT. This would potentially eliminate the biological route. Not necessarily, but potentially. And I’ve been grappling with that decision for quite a long time now. Thinking about losing that option has reduced me to tears. It makes me so upset. I really want to have a biological child.
It has always been my dream to have one child of each gender. (Let’s not get into the weeds of “what if one is trans? Or non-binary?” I would obviously support them no matter what. They are their own person and my wants should have no bearing on them and their identity. Statistically speaking, that is not very likely anyway. But even if it did happen, I would love them for them, not because of their gender.)
My thought was that I could have a biological child, and whichever one I had, I would then adopt the other kind. Again, there are unique and cool things about each one.
A biological child will share a lot of the same traits as their parents. Scientifically-validated heritable traits including artistry, eye colour, extrovertedness, being a morning person, optimism, musicality, and other aspects of personality. That’s not to say every child is a direct product of who their parents are, obviously. And some of it is “nurture” over “nature”. Still, I see a lot of my family in me, and I would really enjoy seeing that in a child of mine as well.
An adopted child is special because they were specifically picked to be part of the family. With a biological child, you get whatever you get, but with an adopted child, they have that connection of being chosen. They bring a different yet special and unique sense of wonderment. They are the direct product of multiple families, and as such, they can have a greater mix of abilities and skills. It is also arguably more responsible, as there are already population issues in the world and resource conservation is vital. This child already exists and needs a family to love them!
If I may speak for one paragraph on the religious aspect of this, as it is something deeply important to me though I try to not put it in everyone’s face in my writings. No matter how a child comes in to your life, I believe raising children is one of the most privileged and hallowed responsibilities we are entrusted with by God. Proverbs 22:6 speaks to this somewhat, but it’s more than just what is in the written word. It’s just a feeling I have always had. And I don’t believe there is a distinction between how the child comes in to your life.
I hope by now it is very clear that I have an extremely positive view on both ways of family building that I have outlined. That is why it is so crushing to me that by starting HRT, I am closing the door on one of them. And the argument I had with my friend is that they claimed that the fact I am so upset by it means I think adoption is somehow lesser.
It isn’t. There is no way you can possibly put a value proposition on either one. Both are so incredibly special. Both are the most amazing gift you could possibly receive. It pains me to try and make any sort of comparison or simile here, because there really is none to make. But perhaps this could make a little more sense of it.
Imagine if you had always had a dream of having two types of cars, or maybe there are two places you always wanted to go on holiday. You get one. But you are told you will never get the other. You will always be happy that you got the one, but you’d still be sad you never got the other.
That’s how this is.
Adoption for me isn’t a “backup plan”. It was always part of the plan. It’s just now, if I choose to start HRT, it’s the only plan, and that’s why I’m sad.
And I really resent how that’s been the first thing out of everyone’s mouth that I’ve told. As soon as I say “I’m thinking about HRT”, almost every single friend I’ve said that to has started with “Oh, you’re giving up on your baby dream, then?” Rub it in, please!
I don’t know how to properly end this article. Maybe I won’t go through with HRT, because I still want to hold on to that dream. Maybe the doctor will have an idea on how to do “fertility-preserving” HRT. Maybe there is no such thing. Maybe I will do it anyway because I am sick and tired of having this poison testosterone in my body and my mental and physical health is more important than having a biological child.
All I can say is that for the past few days, I’ve been sitting with a smile on my face while holding meetings and discussing computer things and I don’t think anyone even realises the turmoil I’m feeling behind that smile. And it’s high time I finally told the world about it.