Yesterday was the day J chose to reveal his true self to his dad. He was nervous but determined. So, I suggested a walk to get away for some privacy and we headed to the river just a few minutes from the house. The sun was shining, there was a band playing and people sitting out at tables enjoying drinks on the gorgeous spring day. Every step we took, I could feel the dread building in me. Here was my husband, enjoying a lovely day out with his wife and oldest son, completely unaware that his world was about to change. I ached to tell him to turn around and go home. Or to warn him "Soak this in! You're about to be knocked off your feet."
We chose a quiet spot by the water and watched the geese waddle across the banks and listened to the distant music. J said to me, "You tell him." He had already mustered all the courage he had to tell me, and now he needed me to be the strong one. With a deep breath, I told C about the midnight conversation J and I had a few days earlier and ended with, "J is a girl."
We are a family of pranksters. We jump out at each other, change the settings on each other's phones and set-up elaborate jokes. I did not anticipate that C would think this was a joke. He laughed and said, "Yeah, right." Then he saw the look on my face and the smile faded. I watched the twinkle in his eyes go out and a look of confusion mixed with horror cross his face. And I knew that was the end of the future my husband had imagined for his oldest child, his little buddy.
To his credit, my husband recovered and told J that he loves him no matter what. He asked some questions to clarify, hugged him and told him he'd do whatever it took. J was visibly relieved to have it out of the way and ready to move on. After three years of holding on to this secret, he was finally able to be open with both of his parents and I could see his shoulders become unburdened. We went for a drink on the deck, chatted almost as if nothing had changed and then headed home, J bouncing as we walked, having shifted his burden to his dad. At bedtime, my husband cried. He sobbed. Not because J is not what he thought he was, but because of all the things he knows he's going to face in this unkind world. He cried out of confusion and fear of the future and lack of knowledge. An emotional weight was placed in his hands. I have had more time to work through some of these things, albeit only a few days, but I was watching my husband go through all the same things, with the added element of betrayal - the knowledge I had kept this from him, even though he understood why.
Today I told two of my co-workers. One is the assistant rector and mother of one of J's good friends. I knew J told her son that he was transgender at the lock-in a few days ago so I suspected she knew anyway. The other is the head of the kids' programming at the church and will need to be informed as this will undoubtedly come up in the coming weeks, months and years. And they're my friends. I needed to process out loud. I needed to bounce all of this overwhelming information off of someone not as close to it as me. They asked all the right questions and said all of the right things. Over lunch we laughed at how life throws us for a loop when we least expect it. We talked about doctor's appointments, counselors, support groups. Then moved on to how our kids never make their beds and won't eat their veggies and all the other things parents talk about. It was such a release for me to be able to normalize this, rather than carry it silently with me. I hope that my husband is able to reach a place like this soon. Even though there is still confusion and a fear of the unknown, I think I can do this. I think I can support J through his transition and help him navigate the tricky world he's about to enter. At any rate, I have to, I wouldn't do anything else.