As I watched my 8-year-old son unbutton his new short-sleeved shirt for his Halloween costume, I couldn’t help but smile. He left it open, revealing his bare chest, and stood in front of the mirror, admiring himself. “I feel like one of those pride boys,” he said, referring to those we see at Pride events, often flaunting their chests. Many young gay and trans masculine individuals wear their shirts open, showcasing their scars from gender-affirming top surgery. Celebrating one’s journey is vital, especially in spaces where acceptance isn’t guaranteed. I understand this reality all too well as a transgender parent.
“With time, I’ll be able to do that too,” I shared with him.
“Really, Mama? Isn’t that weird?” he replied, scrunching his nose slightly, but I felt no offense.
My transition is a personal journey, one that I embark on without seeking validation from others. However, I deeply value the support of my children. While my identity is my own, it intertwines with their lives. As we navigate this path together, there are moments of growth, understanding, and sometimes, rethinking. This was one such moment.
“After my top surgery, when I no longer have breasts, I can definitely show off my chest,” I explained.
He seemed hesitant. I understood his apprehension, as my scars from a double incision mastectomy would be new to both of us. My son has witnessed the way some people still perceive me as female, and he knows that society often dictates that girls shouldn’t reveal their chests. I reassured him that there’s nothing shameful about breasts and that the expectation to cover them stems from societal pressures. I told him plainly that those norms are ridiculous.
While he didn’t fully embrace the idea, he was open to learning. Both he and my other children responded similarly when I came out as nonbinary—an identity I discovered later in life. I had long lived in discomfort as a woman and even considered identifying as a transgender man, but that didn’t feel right either. It was only when I learned about being nonbinary that I understood my identity as a blend of both male and female. I ask my children and others to use they/them pronouns when referring to me.
Coming out as nonbinary at 39 felt like a late revelation, especially compared to when I came out as gay in my teenage years. I was known as a woman for nearly four decades, and those years of being labeled female felt misaligned with my true self. Yet, I had three children who called me “Mama,” and any changes I made would impact them too.
My children have been wonderfully supportive, but I recognize that having an openly transgender parent, especially one who uses nontraditional pronouns, requires them to navigate their own challenges. Their teachers and peers are expected to use my correct pronouns, and my kids often correct those who misgender me. I don’t want them to bear the burden of advocating for me, but I do stress the importance of respect and consistency in using my pronouns, even around friends.
The journey to getting my pronouns right has been a process, but they’ve become adept at self-correcting. When I first shared my transition, my kids were curious if they could still call me Mama. I needed them to accept my new identity while reassuring them that I would always be their mother.
The term “Mama” is often viewed as feminine, much like my name, Amber. Yet, as a masculine-presenting nonbinary individual, hearing my children call me Mama is a cherished reminder of my role as their parent. It fills me with love, although, I admit, there are moments when I feel an urge to hide when they yell, “Mama!” But for the most part, their recognition of me as their mother doesn’t diminish my identity.
“When are you getting your breasts removed again?” my son asked eagerly.
“October 29th.”
“What if we have a Boob Voyage party?” he suggested.
“That sounds fantastic!”
“Oh! And don’t forget about turning your breasts into little pillows!”
“Noted,” I replied, chuckling.
There’s no single way to transition, and being transgender doesn’t hinge on fulfilling certain social or medical standards. My transition encompasses both social and medical dimensions, impacting my children as well. I often reflect on discussions about pronouns, labels, and surgeries. While these conversations can feel daunting, they also bring normalcy and celebration into our lives. After all, who wouldn’t want a boob pillow?
Ultimately, my children are thriving, and so am I. Transitioning into a happier version of myself benefits us all. For additional insights on parenting and home insemination, you can check out this informative blog post here or explore resources on pregnancy and home insemination. If you’re looking for trusted products, visit Make a Mom for essential tools.