This is the Story of Landon
Mother is the name of God on the lips of children.
Y ea rs ago, while watching a movie, the hero made a stateme nt to a drug-addicted mother. "Mother is the name of God from the lips of children" Brandon Lee The Crow.
For those slower than others, this means to a child mother is God. I remember as a child I could not even say I loved God more than my Mom. It was a lie and it just wouldn't roll off my tongue. God didn't raise me, God didn't help me get up after a fall, God didn't sit with me after a broken heart, God wasn't even there to console me when my mother died.
Being a mother has been the most frustrating experience of my life. And if I learned nothing else from my mother this lesson would be enough.
She had zero expectations for us. As long as we were happy. I could have married Jack the ripper and went on a murdering spree and as long as I was happy she would be there. She may be a tad bit disappointed to say the very least. But her love would never waiver.
How many of us still have that. Completely and totally unconditional?
Well, I lost it when some ones "God" took it away. When my first son was born I finally got that back. And I swore to all my kids that there was nothing at all they could do that could make me love them less or not be their strongest cheerleader, for as long as I walked this ground.
The first two were pretty standard. Two bouncing baby boys. both of them are exactly 7lb 4oz, 19 1/2 inches long, and almost 13 months apart. They were like raising twins. Twins that mimic each other in most ways.
Three years after they were born I became pregnant once again. This time it was all backward. I was in a hospital for most of it bed-ridden and miserable for six months. Our first girl was born at 6 months. She was so small and fragile. You could see through her skin. See the veins running just beneath her skin. It was five months before I was able to bring my baby home to bond with.
We named her Lindsey Madara from me. I have and always will be proud of this name. My mother gave it to me and devised it special for me. I was to pass the name along. So, I did.
When Lindsey was twelve years old. We had to send for the priest because she swore a demon was trying to possess her. I have never believed in that sort of evil. I've seen real evil and it's as real as you or me.
She had Never! Done anything like this. So, we dialed the priest and the lady that drove Lindsey to church every Sunday. They rushed through the house Bibles in hand, speaking in tongue.
Then she turned back into the happy, but quiet little kid.
At the age of fourteen, she attempted suicide. I was floored. I have always taught what a selfish thing suicide was. I couldn't believe I hadn't given her enough love that she would rather leave this earth than live it in one more minute.
I was so angry. For a lot longer than I let anyone realize. But what do you do? The last time you yelled at her look what happened. So, I was really scared of her. I never wanted her to try something like that again. She had called my bluff and the ground fell out from under me.
So we got her some therapy. Once a week a counselor picked her up from school and they just hung out for like three hours. She was a cool counselor you know the kind? She taught driving lessons and got copies of her client's fingerprints in fun finger paints that decorated her walls.
There is so much of this story to tell. I am skipping over so much. Lindsey kind of "toed me" into becoming Landon. First I thought that she was just afraid to date because of dad and the two big brothers.
In our first conversation, on the subject I was told she believed that she was A gender. Which, to my understanding was she was not attracted to anyone.
Don't laugh if say this wasn't a bit relieving to me. I thought Wednesday church had made a nun that would never have man troubles.
When I was engaged in the subject of gender dysphoria. An alarm started ringing. The eighties kids were taught self-love you are perfect the way you were born. This is the age I was raised and what I was taught to believe.
The key that shuts the alarm down is me having to understand that she isn't changing to make someone else happy. It was to make himself happy!
That being said My child is perfect. No matter who he wishes to be.
I went to my first Pride Parade with him when he was still a she. The amount of children that came up and hugged me. One even thanking me for the, "hug of a mother".
That broke me. Why was this child denied that? A simple thing that made both of us cry.
How dare these parents. They are given the gift of unconditional love and the spit on it. I guess they don't know what it feels like in this world without it.
I'm here now telling them it is a very lonely and sad place. And one day they are going to think back and wonder why their God has done this to them.
It's not their life. It won't decide whether they make it into heaven or put them in hell. Why do they think it's ok to treat a human being that way. A human being that has the blood coursing through their veins, a human being that will carry the family legacy, And a human being that used to think they were a God.
I still struggle with he, she, them, they. I love the name I gave my child. But Shakespear said best, "A rose would smell as sweet no matter the name". In less words of course.
I hope this helps people come to terms. Life is to short and uncertain to hang on to what you find moral and immoral in cases like this.
I'm still working through it, but it's not about me and I can't decide for them. I just have to trust that my child was given the mental tools to be the person they want to be.
Stay tuned this is ongoing in real-time. With my family's permission I will have plenty to say in the future.