“TICKLEY TICKLEY ROUND YOUR TUMMY,”

She would whisper in a sing song tone as she traced her fingers across my stomach. The two of us snuggled up on her couch. “We Yike, jeopardy, don’t we Gamma.” the 6 year old version of me would look up at her and smile. “We sure do!” she smiled back, returning to her tickling song. “Tickley, tickley round your tummy, if you laugh you’ll be a mummy.” her long fingers making loop da loops on my belly.

I knew that telling my kids my truth, about who I am was the only option! That showing the world that it really isn’t that complicated. That when someone tells you their truth you believe them and love them, because their truth has always been there, now you just get to know it.

When do you tell people you don't know well that you're trans? Do you just let them notice on their own that you now have a beard?

"You've lived a very full life,"  he says to me, while looking down at my chart and simultaneously peering up over his glasses the way doctors do.  

"I'm very interested," he carries on.

I deflect the awkwardness of the fact that until the age of 31 I've lived my life as a woman by making a joke: "What, not all transmen have birthed 4 kids?"