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The Ticking of the Clock

I’m going to be straight up honest here. This is kind of a tough one to write. It’s been sitting in my docket of things to talk about for some time, but that day finally came around. I generally tend to take a humorous look at life, and I like doing that. When I can laugh and make someone else, it brings me pure joy. Someone I used to know once accused me of making a joke of everything, but that is only partially true. Most things, but not really everything. Sometimes, since starting HRT anyway, I get that feeling only women truly know.

Trans women born under a really challenging set of circumstances, but we are women and our brains are wired the same way, even though we have to play a lot of catch up. That wiring has some switches in it I’m not sure we are all prepared to discover, but sometimes do. Men like to make sarcastic jokes about the biological clock ticking in a woman, as if it is just some little thing, an irrational thing, an inconsequential thing, that can be ignored with some self restraint and fortitude. Ugh. Again, they simply can’t know.

Make no mistake, I and every other trans woman knows, we will never have the right internal parts to even dream of such a thing as biological motherhood. A great many cis women have this as well, but more often discover it later in life as a crushing blow to dreams they may have had. Still though, they, and at least I, still get flashes of that feeling. A momentary powerful emotional conceptualization of the idea of life growing inside us and of us. A microsecond of euphoria is all it is. Distilled joy and wonderment of the very idea. And then it’s gone. We can’t help but constantly remember what we simply cannot do or be, but there is a void where there has never been before. Something in our head is saying what we are, what we can do, but the body has no means to cooperate. It’s that moment of hazy heady potential still there after just waking up from a dream of flying.

No, I’ll never be a biological mom. It might not be fair, but what is? I’m not even sure I believe in such a thing as fairness being real other than a convenient cause to issue complaint and air grievances. It’s also unquestionably much worse for a cis woman to discover, having had no reason not to build up expectations that the mind and body might crave. I have been a biological father, and delight in that, but it’s not quite the same. Any future of repeating the experience is a low probability at best, as I suspect my body stopped cranking out swimmers some time back.

I brought this up because it doesn’t seem to be something we talk about much. It has no more real meaning to our lives than picking out shapes in the clouds. It doesn’t mean we don’t feel it though, and maybe it’s just too hard to put out there, but I did it anyway. I’m not even sure how I really feel about it, but it is there and I’m willing to admit it, even if it makes no difference. I’ll play the hand I was dealt and for every little bit that it’s worth.


About michellelianna

I'm a transgender woman now in the maintenance stages of transition having all the electrolysis and surgery one can reasonably be expected to undertake. While busy exploring my new world, I took to blogging about it with dubiously popular results. I don't have quite as much to say as I used to, but I'm not quite done yet either.

5 responses »

  1. Well I’m late to the party here… I guess I was busy in August and this slipped by me?

    A few months ago I was in a parking lot and a Mother with her toddler son were crossing in front of me. Son was trotting along obviously enjoying new found mobility. Mom looked up and made eye contact and gave a smile and I smiled and waved. The little lad made eye contact and beamed at me as I waved back. The entire scene filled me with a warm human glow that very nearly brought me to tears. It was just so sweet and gentle and kind and I felt it more than ever before. I felt the Sisterhood with the Mom and I felt the warmth of the little guy’s (probably sticky) hand in mine. I also felt a sad yearning that this had never been filled with me and my son. Back then we were pretty Gender Bound and I didn’t play that role with him.

    Now, since my transition, the son and daughter in law are estranged, so the Grandma experience is outside my likely range. I was told that the children will have to wait until they are 18 so they can decide themselves how much risk I pose to their mortal souls. Since the soonest will be in 16 years I see no reason to hold out much hope for the near future.

    Big Sigh!!!… I’ve felt it also and I never even knew it was there.

  2. It’s not just you. Another t-friend and I were just discussing this on her blog a few months ago; I’m a Dad and love my kids to bits, but there’s definitely a real sense of longing in my heart for the whole mothering experience.

    Like Becky said, I’d *GLADLY* take the cramps and visits from Aunt Flo and all the rest if it meant I could also experience that miracle of nurturing a new life inside myself. But I agree with you too — I feel so much more empathy for those ciswomen that discover their inability to conceive after years of planning and dreaming and imagining it! I guess part of the game of life is learning how best to play the hand we’re dealt.

  3. Now that on makes me want to cry, Giving birth is something I wished I could do when I witnessed the birth of my first child, I felt insignificant. I know I’m not but still, that’s how I felt.

    My kids are grown up now and the days of diapers, binkies, first day of school, tooth fairies, all gone. Now I’m crying, I wish I would have taken more time out to enjoy that time but work seemed to be my lot in life, my roll, my plight.

    I did my best, the male roll was fulfilled and done well but seeing that I’m wired differently, “Female,” I hated that roll and because of that I dropped the ball. My kids said they don’t have a problem with me but I know I had one.

    I didn’t understand it then, I wish I could have, Back then I never heard of a Transsexual, or Asexual, but “Lo and Behold” that is what I am, I didn’t like sex but I wanted Kids, “Bad”! At the age of 12 I dreamed a number of times about getting Married, I didn’t want to live alone, I grew up in fear of that. Michelle I think I might know a little of where this one came from, I think it came from the same place that all of us found it. I really liked this one, it hit home.
    Thank you! Tedie:)

  4. In the early stages of my transformation this was something that I thought about all too frequently, always with a sense of regret and melancholy. Now I am more accepting of the fact that it just wasn’t meant to be, but every time I am lucky enough to spend time around friends who have youngsters the joy of the experience is still mildly tainted by regret.

  5. Hi Sis,

    This one is deep. Also, likely to ruffle a few feathers. You and I often talk about accepting that we are different and that we don’t fit neatly into the world of ciswomen. I think one of the unspoken taboos for us is that we aren’t supposed to mention that we really, really want the entire experience of womanhood. Yes, I’ll take the periods and cramps if it means I can also feel life growing inside of me.

    Thanks for having the courage to mention what I think more of us feel than are willing to admit. Thank you also for presenting it in a very sensitive way.

    One of my greatest joys is being a father to my children. One of my deepest regrets is that I will never be a mother to one.




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