Father, my Greatest Calling

The past couple weeks I've been seriously considering taking a break from church. Our Bishop ignores me, won't give me a calling or even let me speak or pray. And after he asked me to serve as Sunday school president, he never asked the ward to sustain me in sacrament and called someone else. And yet, in our previous ward, I had my temple recommend, but he won't even meet with me for an interview to renew my temple recommend. He's lied to me and ignored me, and I can't take it anymore. I really feel useless and unwanted. I am out to most of the ward members, and they are mostly accepting. Anyway, I was resolute that I would stay home today, but the deaf sister in our ward accepted my Facebook friend request yesterday and messaged me that she'd see me at church. So I went. And that sister beautifully bore her testimony today. Then the last testimony was from a former bishop of our ward, now a stake presidency counselor, from Samoa. I could really feel his love and Christ's love through him. Then his father-in-law, also a former bishop of the ward, gave the closing prayer, and it felt that he was praying solely for me.

I usually drag myself to priesthood, but today I just sat in the foyer. About halfway through the third hour, a sister from primary brought me our oldest, autistic son. So I kept him with me for a little bit. I heard the primary singing and decided to take him back in and just enjoy the presence of spiritual giants in small bodies beautifully singing. We have another deaf member in our ward, and he missed the primary program from a couple weeks ago (we missed it too since we were gallivanting about all around the country) so they were performing it for him. For every single song, they had one of the older kids signing it for him. That alone broke open the tear ducts. Their last song was one that they all helped write, and the wonderful primary chorister put it to music. It was about feeling the Spirit and loving each other. Truly beautiful. There was no holding back the tears after that! After they finished and had prayer, I thanked the chorister and told her it was beautiful. Then she told me about the song that they wrote, that Gavin (our middle child) had contributed one of the chorus' main lines, to love each other "no matter what". Yeah, a flood of tears upon hearing that...

Throughout my journey and from my many supplications, the Spirit has told me that I was given this male body for the sole purpose of bringing our three boys into this world. For some reason, they needed my DNA as their father. So today, that was reaffirmed in a way. I need to go to Primary with our oldest to help with him. And anyway, RS and priesthood and Sunday school are boring - primary is where it's at. :P That is my calling, whether or not the bishop extends it and has me sustained. That is where I am needed and am supposed to be. That is where I will stand and where I will lift.

How Being Transgender MtF Has Made Me a Better Father

This post has been weighing on my mind a lot lately, and I've been working on it for many months. Even then, I feel it's woefully inadequate, so maybe I'll be adding to it for a while.  And I hope my words convey what I am feeling and touch the reader in some way, even if it's not very significant.

There's a certain calmness that came to my life after I finally accepted my identity and embraced being transgender. Because of that, because I've taken care of myself first, I am able to take care of those around me, especially of my children. Instead of being in an emotionally-charged state, I'm able to calmly walk into situations and solve them together with my boys.  You know how on an airplane, you're supposed to put your own oxygen mask on first, this totally relates!

Before accepting my identity, I fought it for many years.  I prayed God would take it away.  That never happened, He told me to wait.  He didn't say what to wait for.  I still struggle and have frequent and severe dysphoric episodes.  BUT I can now deal with it.  It doesn't completely debilitate me, and I'm able to function and continue with my parenting responsibilities. And I know there's sunshine waiting behind the clouds.  I hope I can convey this wisdom to my kids when they are struggling with the turbulence of life.

We live in an always-changing world.  Fifty years ago, being transgender or gay was rarely talked about and likely just as rarely experienced.  I think that the incidence has increased; not that those who felt this way were just as prevalent and simply suppressed their feelings, suffering in silence.  So what will the next generation bring?  What new things will the rising generation have to discover and struggle with?  I don't know, but having experienced what it's like to be transgender, to be a social outcast has taught me so much about empathy and how to truly love unconditionally.  It's taught me how to stand for myself, for my beliefs, while also listening to others' and their beliefs.  So no matter what happens in the future involving my children, I will be there for them, because I know.  I intimately know what it's like to feel alone, full of shame, lost, full of despair.  And so does Christ.  He knows exactly what I'm going through, because he experienced it for me.

In preparation for this post, I googled for some inspirational quotes on fatherhood. Here are a few that I liked:

"The greatest mark of a father is how he treats his children when no one is looking." - Dan Pearce
"I cannot think of any need in childhood as strong as the need for a father's protection." -Sigmund Freud
"My father gave me the greatest gift anyone could give another person, he believed in me." - Jim Valvano
"Who of us is mature enough for offspring before the offspring themselves arrive? The value of marriage (parenthood) is not that adults produce children but that children produce adults." - Peter De Vries

That last quote really hits home to some of my experiences and my outlook on life.  Throughout my younger years, I was asked if I was ready.  "Are you ready for High School?"  "Are you ready to graduate?"  Are you ready for your mission?"  "Are you ready to go home (from my mission)?" "Are you ready to be a husband, father, divorcee, etc?"  The list goes on. Every time I was asked those questions and similar ones, my answer was no.  Not until I was there and had lived the new experience was I ready.  No matter how many missionary-prep classes I took or no matter how many books I read about being a parent, I didn't feel ready.  I didn't feel like a father until AFTER I had already been a father for a while.

I am grateful for my three beautiful children.  I am grateful for all the challenges they present to me as their father.  And I am grateful for the challenges that they face every day and that I can walk with them on their journeys, hopefully helping them along the way.  Sure, I'd love to be a mother, but I am their father and joyfully accept and embrace all the responsibilities that come with that sacred calling.

It's a Boy!

Our baby was born on July 31.  He weighed 7 lbs, 12 oz and was 20.5 inches long.  My wife was past her due date and went in for another weekly checkup with an ultrasound.  The doctor was concerned that his abdominal growth had slowed down in relation to the rest of his growth.  So she had us come in for induction.

My wife picked me up from work on Tuesday around noon.  But when we got there, there were no rooms available for us.  We lounged for a few hours in the waiting room until finally a room was clean and ready.  Then we waited for a few more hours before our first of many midwives came in. She suggested a plan for induction and how we would proceed.

They administered first Cytotec then Cervidil to try and get things going.  And Pitocin.  The contractions did increase in both intensity and frequency, but not enough.  Her cervix never came down and was stuck at 6-cm dilation.  But her water did break!  After many hours of contractions, little Trystan must have gotten impatient since his heart rate decreased during and after contractions.  So they decided to pull him out via caesarean section.

We reiterated that dad (since mom couldn't) would hold the baby skin-to-skin as soon after the delivery as he was ready.  Our original plan was to have mom hold him on her chest with cord intact before cutting his lifeline and cleaning him up.  But after they yanked him out, they cleaned him up, swaddled him in a blanket, and handed him to me.  Totally not what we asked!!! It really irritated me that they didn't listen to our request.  I felt that the nurse who had that shift was really annoying and inexperienced.  So after holding him for a few minutes, I got the nurse to unwrap him and put him inside my shirt.  Finally!  And oh so wonderful!

Taking his vitals.

First holding him.

Holding him skin-to-skin inside my small shirt.

Looking up at me with those beautiful, curious eyes.

Autistic big brother meeting him for first time.

Another big brother. :)

First set of stairs. #FutureUltraRunner