"Mothers never get to meet their children."

I forgot where I was when I heard the phrase, I think it was a year or two ago, and I hope I'm quoting it correctly. The person was mentioning it like it was an idiom, albeit one I had never heard, and as if it was commonly known. Maybe it was the radio. I don't know.

They went on to discuss ideas about the way that children, even as adults, are different people to their mothers than they are with the rest of the world. There's a special reverence. The way they don't want to disappoint their moms, or to get in trouble with them, to think less of them. They want to show the best side of themselves to their mothers, even if only to make them happy. They keep secrets from their mothers. They mask themselves to their mothers. This concept fascinates and saddens me.

I always wanted a mom.

Which is strange because I had one. Kind of?

I think there's a particular sort of pain that comes from being a repressed trans girl growing up without a mom around.

Mine wasn't around for most of my childhood, especially when I really needed a mom. After my mom left, my father remarried his first cousin and I was forced to call her "mom" and I wasn't allowed to talk about my mom so that I would be forced to practically pretend that my mother didn't exist so that people wouldn't find out their secret. I think most of the people from my middle and high schools likely still think that my stepmother-cousin was my mother. He's remarried a couple times since then. They weren't my moms, either, obviously, but I'm glad to say they're not my cousins, either. Not that it matters, I don't speak to any of them.

My mom came back into my life as an adult, but she left again. I haven't spoken to her in years. She left when I really could have used a mom. Again. Typical.

I'm not sure she wanted to be my mom, but that's her story. I have a lot of understanding for why she left when I was a kid, and a lot of empathy. I know it had nothing to do with me. I never used the word abandoned until she used the word to describe the choice she made over lunch with me as an adult. On the other hand, while I hold a lot of empathy for what she did when I was a kid, I know I still deserved a mom.

I don't hold much empathy for her choices when she left again. I haven't spoken to her in a few years now, and as much as I hold it against her this time, I actually think it's for the best.

It's a strange feeling.

She left after I came out. Not immediately, and she was outwardly supportive.

One of the last things she said to me before she left was, "I don't want you to feel like I'm abandoning you again," followed by, "I'm really glad I got to meet you."

"Mothers never get to meet their children."

This concept fascinates and saddens me.

I also think it's bullshit.

What the fuck is a mom, anyway?

I'm a mom.

I didn't give birth to my kids, but I'm their mom. My spouse isn't a woman, but they did give birth to my kids, and they're also a mom. They're a fucking amazing mom. And I'm so fortunate we get to be moms together.

The woman my kids know as their grandma, their Nana, isn't related to any of us.

Another married couple, friends of ours, are both moms with a kid.

My grandmother didn't give birth to my uncle, but she was his mom, I think. I know it was complicated with them.

When we lived in Japan, there were two different women who looked out for us like they were our moms.

Another friend of mine is a nanny, taking care of other people's children, and she's always looking out for and taking care of people around her. She looks out for me like a big sister. She and her wife wanted so much to have a child of their own. They were heartbroken, and my heart broke for them when my friend told me that it couldn't happen and all their options were exhausted.

I've seen children cry for their moms and be consoled by other women. I've heard them call these other women mom. I've seen a child lost in a store, calling for their mom, and a stranger hold her hand and guide her to her mother in the next aisle over.

I always wanted a mom.

Which is strange because I had one. Kind of.

I sometimes think that maybe my mom is the amalgamation of every woman who has ever looked out for me, regardless of age, relation, even if they were a stranger. Even if they were my actual mom.

I might have told you once, but one of my first memories was asking my mom what my name would have been if [she'd have known] I was a girl. I held onto that name and wrote it on my heart for my entire life. I clutched to it until the day I would finally get to be myself.

And when it came time for it, when I finally took a step into the world as myself, I chose a different name.

Did you know that male seahorses carry the babies?

I've cried a lot of tears that I never got to carry my own children in pregnancy or to nurse them and to bond with them in these ways, but I know that this is selfish because I'm so fortunate to have children at all, and my children are beautiful and wonderful and amazing and I am bonded to them, and them to me, and I know those other things are not what makes a person a mom.

If it was, maybe that would make my mom more of a mom. But it didn't really work out that way.

I am so lucky to be a mom. I don't know if you know how rare and amazing and beautiful and fortunate and privileged I am to be a trans mom. I certainly do, and it brings me endless and profound happiness and gratitude.

My kids call me mom. Or mama. Or whatever mom words, same as they call my spouse. No different. Together they call us mom both as a unit and as individuals. Collectively, we are just mom, which is also funny. I didn't even ask them to call me mom the first time, they just did. They were like, why would we call you anything else? You're our mom.

"Mothers never get to meet their children."

I know of mothers who think they know their children, and they use what they think of as this higher knowledge of their children in order to shape them.

This isn't you.

You were never like this.

You're not going to be like one of those people.

There were no signs, I would have known, so you're wrong about yourself. I know you better than you do.

"Mothers never get to meet their children."

I get what is being said by the phrase, but I know it doesn't have to be that way, even if it often is. Too often.

The expectations set by mothers, the authority of motherhood, the fear they instill in their children, whatever it is, it doesn't have to be that way.

There is something I know very well, and it's that our children feel safe with us. A home like ours is welcoming, safe, affirming, and a place where people are allowed to be accepted for who they are. Our children know they're respected as people, as individuals, and they know they don't have to try to fit into any mold in order to meet our expectations.

They don't have to wear any particular clothing style, they can cut up their clothes and make them into something else that makes more sense. We have thread and needles and sewing machines. I took pictures when one of them asked a friend to grab some scissors and cut their hair in a parking lot on a whim. My spouse dies their hair for them. They can say what they want, cuss if they want, act the way they want, enjoy the things they want. They can get bad grades if they want. They can argue with other authority figures if they want (and we'll have their back). They can protest if they want, at school, in the streets, or even at the capitol building, all of which they have done. None of them say the pledge of allegiance, because they don't want to, and they all individually decided this on their own. They didn't even realize the other siblings hadn't been doing it.

And I feel like it should go without saying, but in our house, they obviously know they can be whatever gender they are and love whoever they want and however many people they want. I joke that I hope they're all polyamorous because that means we will have that many more people to love in the family. But they also know that they don't need to ever have a partner if they don't want one.

They can be who ever they are and whoever they want to be. They can do whatever the fuck they want as long as they're not causing harm to themselves or others, and even then, we're not about to rain down fury upon them, we're going to respect them by having a discussion. Like people do when they respect each other.

Our children know that when they are with us, they are safe.

I'm not saying we never argue. I'm not saying we've never gotten it wrong, because we have. We grew up in abusive environments and had kids young and it took time to unlearn so many things and to learn better ways of doing things, and to break cycles. We continue to learn.

But our kids know that when they are with us, they are safe. They can talk to us about anything. And they do.

In fact, when their friends are over and they hear how our kids talk with us, they occasionally say, "If I talked like that to my mom, I'd get slapped." And my heart breaks for them. Why should any child be afraid for how they talk to their mother? I don't want my children to be afraid of me.

Their friends learn quickly that they are safe to be themselves with us.

And to be honest, usually whatever the friend is responding to is some sort of good-hearted joke between us and the kids. Maybe they use swear words or something.

We've always told the kids that we would rather them say fuck than call each other stupid. Why is fuck a swear word, but not calling someone stupid? Our kids are always allowed to swear. Why not? I certainly do. Why should they censor themselves around us? Why should they feel that they can't express themselves how they want to?

My spouse and I have repeated often that even in the times the kids might say something hurtful to us (which is rare, but we all grow and experience difficult times), and we feel it deeply, we are still so incredibly grateful that they feel safe enough to say these things to us. We are so grateful that they know that we will still love them, that we will listen to what they are saying and we will respect them and their feelings.

We are so grateful that they know they are safe with us.

I know that my children mask themselves when they go out in the world, when they go to school, or into a store, or to other people's homes. It's just hard to be yourself around other people all the time, especially when the world doesn't want to allow you to be yourself.

"Mothers never get to meet their children."

When our children come home, they know they are safe. They don't have to mask. They are safe to be themselves.

When we decided to have children, we didn't want to make them into little versions of ourselves. We wanted to discover them, to encourage them to share themselves with us.

I always wanted a mom.

I think there's a particular sort of pain that comes from being a repressed trans girl growing up without a mom around.

Without a mom around, I've had a good deal of my life to think of what it is that I missed.

I missed a lot of things, more than I'll say here, but I missed having someone who allowed me to be who I am, who supported me in finding myself. She wasn't unsupportive, she just wasn't there.

When I think of what it means to me to be a mom, this is such a huge part of it.

When I celebrate motherhood in others, and when I feel both the beauty and responsibility of it for myself, it's in this.

I want to be there for them. I want to support them in finding themselves, in being themselves. I want to be a safe place for them, where they don't have to live up to bullshit expectations, where they can cry or cuss or tell difficult things or ask difficult questions, and that they know I will have their back, that I will protect them with my life and everything I've got, or just, I just want to be someone they know will always be there for them to just be safe in who they are, even when things are at their hardest, even when I can't protect them.

Because that's not just the job, that's the beauty, that's the privilege, that's the whole point. What greater gift is there than to be that person for them, so much that they truly can be themself with you?

What else could being a mother possibly be?

And if I'm being honest, for me, part of being a mom means that this doesn't just stop with my kids.

If we can be this person with our kids, we can be this for so many other people.

And all the women and moms who ever looked out for me, who made me feel safe, who made me feel like they were being a mom to me even if only for a moment in passing, and to all of you who do the same for your children and for people who aren't your children.

Just.

Thank you for getting me where I am, and thank you for teaching me how to be a mom.

no ends, only means