I didn’t appreciate how important bonds with other moms were until I had a child. I learned then that it really does take a village to raise a child. This was especially true for me, as I was living in a big city, far away from my family.
I grew up looking forward to being a mom. It’s hard to admit this in today’s climate but it was all I ever wanted. Although I also wanted to be independent, I never really cared about a career. The career came while I was waiting to have my children. In the end, I’ve had a successful career and I wouldn’t change anything.
My husband and I met when we were both in our late 20s. I was crazy about him. He said children were the furthest thing from his mind. Children were the only thing on my mind. I figured he would want to be a dad someday. He never worried about the future. I worried. In my mid 30s, we were ready to get pregnant, or at least I was. When I didn’t get pregnant after two years, I started to panic. My husband wondered if it was not meant to be.
I knew it was meant to be. So, I took control and I went to the doctor to make sure everything was working properly. They scheduled exploratory surgery, but a few days before the surgery I found out I was pregnant. We were so happy. But I miscarried eight weeks later.
I wasn’t going to give up; I never give up on anything. But after a while I started panicking — to the point that motherhood was all I thought about. I was ruminating about it. Everywhere I went I saw pregnant women.
Companions in expectancy
I heard about a mind and body class for infertile women and I joined it. There were 20 couples plus the teacher. She was unable to produce eggs so she decided to teach this class. The ages of the women ranged from under 30 to 45. Just like me, every woman was distraught and had deep anxiety. Just like mine, their husbands were more relaxed. The teacher believed in mind over matter. She taught us to relax, meditate and change our way of thinking. We did learn to relax. So much so, 18 of the 20 moms got pregnant — even the teacher, who had been told she could never have children. It seemed miraculous.
Week by week, woman after woman announced that she was pregnant. We were thrilled –but we couldn’t help feeling our own pain. I was about the third of the success stories. Some women got angry and couldn’t bear to look at the women who were pregnant. It started to become uncomfortable.
I formed a bond with the other pregnant mothers. We did outings and had lunch. One by one we gave birth and we would continue the outings with babies in tow. It was a unique experience and although we rarely see each other nowadays, we still exchange holiday cards.
Then my next mom bond was formed. I was struggling with nursing and I went to a place that supports nursing mothers. A nurse suggested a weekly meet-up class.
I gave it a go. I was there in a room full of nursing moms. We sat around in a circle and talked about sleep deprivation and shared tips. It was exactly what I needed since I had no idea what I was doing. To help us cope with the sleep deprivation, the group leader suggested that when we were feeding our babies in the middle of the night, that we should think about the other moms who were doing the same thing. It helped me to realise that I wasn’t alone.
My next bond was with a baby group we formed through this group. Our children had all been born within a few weeks of each other and we started meeting at each other’s houses. We traded tips and laughter. We saw our children grow and develop personalities. My son seemed to be a lot more active than the other babies. He learned to crawl and walk at a faster pace. The group decided my son would grow up to do extreme sports. This group continued to meet until a few of the families moved away and the children went to different schools. We still exchange holiday cards.
My son’s bewildering choice
My son loved sports — not extreme sports — but he was a daredevil. He especially took to skiing. He was fearless and an excellent skier at an early age. At five he would insist on double diamonds and ski straight down without flinching.
In elementary school, I formed bonds with some moms who had like-minded ideas and we would do park dates and meet in each other’s homes. The kids were very close and my son thrived.
Everything changed when my son went to middle school. There was no bonding with parents and my son felt lost in a big school. Eventually he did make friendships and then he was off to high school. He started with a bang. He made the sports team and scored a spot in the orchestra. He was on track for a happy and successful life.
But then something happened.
He was cut from the sports team and stopped hanging around with his friends from middle school. He lost his confidence. Why? He explained that he was really female.
This was a shock for me and my husband. My son was a 150 percent rough and tough boy. In middle school he didn’t make the top orchestra, not because he lacked ability but because he would wrestle with the other boys. He was also always pulled out in elementary school because he was so active and disruptive.
Being trans made no sense. He had only hung out with boys; he didn’t even know any girls.
You might be interested in other articles in MercatorNet
Families are the collateral damage of transgender transitions
A broken-hearted mother laments the erasure of her free-spirited son. (May 13)
When all the nerds died, all the trans people appeared. Coincidence?
Mourning the loss of a nerdy teenager swept away by the transgender tsunami (May 7)
The transgender option takes its toll on parents, too
An American mother tells of her pain while her brilliant son struggled with gender dysphoria (April 16)
Parents, check your inbox: the next ‘I am trans’ letter may be addressed to you
How one mother discovered her son was being groomed online (April 9)
I believe in the end they will all desist or detransition
I formed another mom bond. I joined a support group for trans identifying boys. This bond has saved my life. There are hundreds of parents from all over the world in this group. They are also confused by their son’s sudden declaration of identifying as trans.
We did not know that the medical profession, schools, and government had been captured by this ideology. There has been a 4000 (yes, 4000) percent increase in adolescents and young adults unexpectedly deciding that they have been born in the wrong body. Why don’t more people think this is odd? We are questioning it. We believe a social contagion is at play. We also have learned how many of our children have other comorbidities. We are also concerned about the harm of medicalizing our children.
Back to my son. He ruminates about trans as I did about getting pregnant. I was determined and I never gave up. What if my son won’t give up either? Does he look at every female and want to be that, the way I used to look at pregnant women? I worry about his health; I worry about his future.
I don’t know what I would have done without all those other moms as I raised my son. It’s painful to look at the holiday cards now since my son is rewriting his past. None of us wanted to be in the current group. But here we are and it is the most important of all since it represents survival: mine, my son’s and my family’s.
I believe things will start to turn around when the lawsuits begin and people start believing in science again. It’s hard for parents to watch their children being harmed by the doctors we used to rely on. How hard it will be when, one by one, our boys start desisting or detransitioning.
It was hard for those moms who didn’t get pregnant. I learned later they all eventually had children. I don’t want to leave any moms behind; I believe that just as almost all the moms had children, all our kids will desist.
Now when I lie awake in the middle of the night, instead of thinking about all those moms breastfeeding, I think about all those moms lying awake trying to figure out how to save their sons or daughters. It doesn’t give me the same solace — but it does help me to know that I’m not alone.
I am an American working professional and mother. We live on the West Coast. My son is on the autism spectrum and has become convinced that he is transgender. My belief is that much of this new identity is a rewriting of his history. I am writing anonymously to protect my family’s privacy.
