Parenting Archives – Leap of Faye

Parenting is NOT a Death Sentence for Fun (Guest Post)

Today’s guest post and pictures are from Sabrina Carlson, mama and blogger at Mama Wild and Free.

I wasn’t so sure I wanted to become a parent. I’m a fiercely independent person. I love my alone time. I love climbing mountains, riding my bicycle through the forest, traveling to new places, running wild and free. Parenthood, I was sure, would bring all of that to an abrupt halt.

But here is what I’ve learned now three years into this parenting journey. Being a parent does not mean an end to your fun or adventure. In fact, I’m finding that the constraints of motherhood are actually driving me to explore, adventure, and travel MORE. Yes…that’s right. MORE.

Let me explain. Before you have a tiny person who depends on you for their every need, you think you are busy. Like…”OMG I’m sooooo busy” kinda busy. I allowed myself to get sucked into workaholic perfectionism constantly. 60 hour weeks were the norm. I said yes to everything, whether or not it was the very best use of my time or even something I wanted to do. I participated in a million activities from gardening, to the local running club track workouts, to cooking gourmet meals nightly, cleaning my house obsessively. When I could find some spare time I rode my mountain bike, though not as often as I wished I did, ran trail races, and occasionally traveled outside the US. Then, every once in a great while, I might collapse into bed for three days with exhaustion and try to recover.

As a mom, I have zero time in my schedule for anything that doesn’t serve a high level purpose in my life, family, or community. I don’t have space in my reality for the self congratulatory habit of manufacturing panic about artificially inflated to do lists, just so that I can base my self worth on how much I checked off said list.

After a rough start in this parenting thing I figured out I have two choices. I could continue to allow everyone and everything else to dictate my schedule and priorities while I try to cram the new, rather time consumptive, responsibility of parenting on top of it all and feel overwhelmed, insufficient, and exhausted with zero time or energy left to take care of myself. OR I could get ruthless and unapologetic. I could weed out everything that isn’t 100% essential. Learn to say no (to myself sometimes more than anyone else), and not need to explain or justify it. Just…no.

Now that I have peeled back the layers of all the extra burdens I unnecessarily placed on myself I’m less stressed, less frantic, and not only have time and patience for my family, I have more time for my own hobbies and interests than ever before. I consistently ride my mountain bike at least twice a week now. I hadn’t been able to say that since the dirt bag days of my early 20’s. I plan long weekends alone, or with a friend, to do something epic at least every 3 months, and my family and I adventure together all the time. I can’t say I was really that consistent before.

Why? Why was I LESS consistent putting adventures on the calendar before the constraints of parenthood!? It seems a little nuts really. I think because I “could do that anytime” I allowed myself to get sucked into whatever story I was spinning in my head about what was more important in that moment. No more. I don’t have the luxury of “going with the flow” these days. So I plan it and I ALWAYS make it happen. If I have time carved out to pursue my passions I will never “just not feel like it today”. Ever.

The result? I play, adventure, and travel MORE now than I did before I had my son.

I’m not going to lie to you. Figuring out HOW to make this work has taken time, intense self reflection (and some therapy) and is always evolving. This doesn’t happen right away with a new baby, and it shouldn’t. That time is unique and reserved for recovery and rest. The first year, even two, are pretty tough. A mama’s body goes through a LOT to make and birth a new person. The notion that “It’s natural so it’s no big deal” is horse manure. Lions eating gazelle on the African Savannah is natural too. That doesn’t mean it was a good day for the gazelle. The sleepless nights and being needed constantly (especially if you breastfeed) are very real, and make recovery long and difficult.

But hang on, Mama. You WILL recover. You child will sleep eventually. AND..this is the best part…you WILL find your groove and a rhythm that works for you. Yes, you will need to figure your child into any plans you make for adventure, be it a run in the woods after work or a trip across the globe. But that doesn’t mean those plans have to stop. In fact, they just might get better and happen more often.

Sabrina Carlson is a mama on a mission to tell postpartum depression where to shove it while living a life of adventure, travel, joy, and meaning as a parent, and hoping to inspire other moms that they can too. She blogs at Mama Wild and Free, can be found posting pictures of her wild and wonderful life on Instagram , and is currently learning that Pinterest is a great tool for adventure planning and vision boarding, and isn’t just for overly complicated craft projects.

12 Ways the Transition From Two to Three Kids Rocked Me

How’s the transition from two to three kids?

I get this question a lot. From mothers gazing wistfully at my sweet baby to mothers eyeing me as if I’m insane. Maybe I am.

Because we did it. Added a third child to our brood of littles. And we now have three under the age of five.

I used to wonder about the transition myself. A lot. I could barely manage two, and was pregnant with another. I asked every mother of three I met whether the transition from one to two kids was more difficult, or the transition from two to three. I realize now that most of them skillfully evaded the question, instead smiling and saying something like “you’ll manage,” or “it’s the greatest gift.”

Doesn’t matter, because now I have the answer. IT. IS. HARD. I hate to be the bearer of bad news to any mother of two expecting a third, but going from two to three ROCKED me. Is STILL rocking me. For me, it was infinitely more difficult than going from one to two.

Someone is always waiting

With two, I could tend to one child and then promptly tend to the next. So Child A could be helped on the potty, and then Child B could be fed. With the addition of another child, someone is always third in line. And, unfortunately for my eldest, it’s usually him. So I can help Child A on the potty, nurse Child B, and only then feed Child C. I simply can’t do it all at once, so my life has become a never-ending to-do list of tasks: dress A, feed B, nurse C, brush A’s teeth, help B on the potty, change C’s diaper, etc. And although my children are adjusting, there is often someone who is none too happy about having to wait his turn.

Triple the laundry, triple the mess

Because I allow our laundry to accumulate, I now do a mountain of it every other day (I should probably be doing it daily). Three kids means three sets of clothes, blankets, sheets, washable toys, and everything else. Considering an average of one child will have some sort of mess or accident daily, there are even more outfits added to the mix. And speaking of mess, I’ve given up. Our home consistently looks like a tornado hit it. And someone is always spilling milk, dropping food, or leaking a diaper. So I pretty much spend my days cleaning up after everyone.

I clean up poop constantly

Change diaper, pick up after the dog, change pull-up, clean up poop that didn’t quite make it into the potty, and repeat. This is my day.

Our grocery bill has skyrocketed

And our youngest has only just started eating solids! Three kids eat A LOT, and I can hardly keep the house stocked. Our extra-large capacity fridge can barely hold everything we need to store, and we’re already looking into an extra freezer to keep in the garage. Our pantry overfloweth to the point where some food items permanently reside on the counter. I am in fear of what my kitchen will look like come the teenage years.

It takes strategy to get everyone successfully buckled into the car

I’m not joking when I say that it often takes more time getting everyone into the minivan and safely buckled into car seats than it does driving to our destination. I suppose on the plus side I’ve become super flexible what with having to climb in and out and contorting my body into awkward positions to reach and buckle all three into second rows, third rows, and both rear and forward facing.

Nobody wants to babysit. Or, if they do, I probably can't afford them. #MomOfThree #Motherhood Share on X

They refuse to all nap at the same time

With two, I worked hard to get them both to nap at the same time. And they finally did! It was pure bliss. Two to three hours of quiet. With three, this has proven impossible. Someone is ALWAYS awake. So sure, I may have just gotten the two older boys down for a rest – but then the baby starts wailing. I have constant company.

Nobody wants to babysit

Or if they do, I probably can’t afford them. One kid is easy-peasy; everyone’s got a sitter recommendation. Two kids aren’t much harder – maybe it costs a few bucks more an hour, but everyone is still willing to do it. Three kids are a game changer. Very few people will even agree to it and, if so, you better believe there is a pretty significant upcharge. Even if the stars aligned and I found someone, I’d probably be a nervous wreck my entire time away seeing as I can barely manage them as their mother!

Nobody is quite old enough to help

I keep reading articles purporting that going from three to four kids is actually easier than two to three. It seems counter-intuitive because four is obviously more than three. But if you think about it, by the time the fourth baby comes along there is at least one child old enough to help. With three, on the other hand, you’re not quite there unless there is a more significant age gap. The eldest still requires a lot of hands-on attention and is hardly ready to help with a newborn. So now you’re spread three ways.

We bring the party wherever we go

And this isn’t always a good thing. Let’s say a friendly neighborhood mom wants to schedule a playdate with my toddler. Since we’re a packaged deal (see: Nobody wants to babysit), we show up like party crashers with not only the invited toddler, but a rambunctious preschooler and crying baby to boot. Over time, the friendly neighborhood moms may find it’s simply not worth the trouble.

Double the preschool fun – I mean, fees

We will be paying two preschool tuitions for the next 300 years. Or close to it. And this is only a glimmer of the expense we will be faced with when all three are in college at the same time.

Apparently hotel rooms limit occupancy to four people

Who knew?? I mean, we all crammed into rooms like sardines when partying in our youth, right? I don’t know if it’s become more strict since then, or if a crying baby and fighting preschooler and toddler ruin the charade, but it seems that hotels are hip to the game. Which means no more hotel rooms for the foreseeable future.

There is no ideal airplane seating configuration

Seriously. What is the best way to corral three hooligans? A parent by the window and one across the aisle? Two rows, one behind the other? Or simply stick all three kids in the back by themselves and pretend you don’t know them? The sad thing is, it doesn’t really matter. Someone will have a meltdown no matter what you do, and you will always end up being “those people” you once despised pre-kids.

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I could go on. But I think you catch my drift. It’s HARD. The world that seemed to perfectly cater to our family of four now seems lopsided with the addition of a fifth member.

That said, the fifth member who seems to have thrown everything else off has made us complete. He was our family’s missing piece. He filled the gap and answered a question. And let’s face it – triple the kids means triple the cuddles, triple the hugs, triple the love.

So now when mothers ask me about the transition from two to three kids, I don’t hold any punches. I tell them it rocked my world. I tell them it’s been one of the most challenging things I’ve ever done. I warn them to think through all the implications.

And then I tell them I would do it all over again in a heartbeat. That, despite the difficulty, it’s been one of the greatest experiences of my life. And when they look at me, questioning and wondering out loud if they should do it themselves, I give them my vote: a resounding YES.

10 More Things I’ve Learned About Breastfeeding – At 6 Months Postpartum

Disclosure: This post contains affiliate links. All opinions are 100% my own.

If you’ve already read my earlier post, 9 Things I Wish Someone Had Told Me About Breastfeeding, you know that breastfeeding has not come easily for me. Written about eight weeks after the birth of my third child, the post shares a bit about the challenges I’ve had – and my ultimate success in finally being able to (almost) exclusively breastfeed lucky baby #3.

The post also talks about many of the truths of breastfeeding that I wish I had known going in. The amazing aspects as well as the ones that – well – suck (no pun intended). I feel that had I known better what to expect, I would have been better equipped to handle various challenges as they arose – and perhaps had been more successful with my first two babies.

It appears that 9 Things I Wish Someone Had Told Me About Breastfeeding has resonated with readers as well. To date, it has been one of my highest-performing posts, prompting more emails and reach-outs than I can count (which I love – we’re all in this together)! This tells me that I’m not alone in this experience, and that many new mothers have gone through the trial and error that I have while trying to navigate a new nursing relationship.

So, at six months postpartum, I thought it would be a good time to post an update about how my breastfeeding journey has evolved.

I AM PROUD!

There. I said it. And I’m not ashamed! I have worked very hard to hit this milestone, and I’m delighted with the progress that my baby and I have made. I read this week that only 18% of mothers who start out breastfeeding are still nursing at 6 months, so I feel I’ve really achieved something (never mind that the statistic was on a Facebook meme – take it for what it’s worth, but it sounded great to me)!

My husband asked me yesterday how long I was going to continue breastfeeding. I answered that, at this point, as long as possible since the hard work is already done! Or at least the one year I had originally set my sights on. Which brings me to my next point.

It really DOES get easier.

Hear me when I say this – as I never believed anyone who said this until I experienced it for myself. It won’t always be as hard as it is in the beginning. Not even close.

Now, don’t get me wrong. It remains a big (huge) commitment. Every day breastfeeding is one of my biggest considerations as I time outings and events around feeds. As I struggle with various aspects that I will detail later on. BUT it is easier than it once was. It has become habit, second nature, and I have gotten used to it. It has simply become a part of my life.

It no longer hurts – as much.

In my first post, I talked a lot about the pain of nursing. Because the pain at that point was SIGNIFICANT. The “tender nipples” crap that I hear time and time again is complete B.S. – at least for me. For me, it was a searing, burning, excruciating pain. And yes, I felt this pain even though the latch was absolutely correct.

So I’m happy to report that the pain – at least to that level – started subsiding for me around 12 weeks. Granted, this is much longer than the 3-8 weeks I was originally led to believe, but the good news is that it DID subside. Now when the baby latches, I feel an initial prick/tingle and that is it.

Lest I lead you to believe that it has become completely pain-free, it has not. My little guy now has more of a say in things and will often bite (even without teeth, this hurts), tug, or my personal favorite – bite and tug on the nipple simultaneously to pull off. The good news is that if I’m paying attention, I can often tell when he’s in this sort of mood, or can read his cues to pull him off before he decides to do it himself. The bad news is if I’m watching TV or browsing Facebook on my phone, I will sometimes miss the cues and end up with a sore nipple.

Some babies hate covers.

I know that I can technically nurse pretty much wherever and whenever I want sans cover. It’s my right. That said, I still (shockingly) retain a shred of modesty since birthing three children, and I personally prefer using a cover.

My baby disagrees.

He hates the cover. Despises it. And refuses to eat (and instead cries and screams) when I place one on. I’ve tried everything – all different types of covers, putting them on in different ways so that he won’t notice, and even trying to cover him with other items like shirts, soft blankets, etc. Nothing works. He’s hip to the game and isn’t having any of it.

Which puts me in a dilemma. Since I’m shy to nurse publicly without cover, I have to find a private area or feed him a bottle. Neither is ideal. Finding a private area means leaving whatever I’m doing at the moment (often leaving people to wait for us), while feeding him a bottle leaves me still needing to express so essentially doubling the time of the feed.

I have yet to find a solution, so opt to switch between finding a private area or bottle feeding when in public. And it blows.

10 Things I've Learned About #Breastfeeding at 6 Months #Postpartum. #nursing #motherhood #baby Share on X

Distractions are the bane of my existence.

Like I mentioned earlier, my little man has become much more engaged with the world, no longer content to simply sleep and feed. Which is great. Except when I’m nursing. EVERYTHING is a distraction. His brothers. The TV. The radio. The sound of the garbage truck driving by. And with every distraction, he pulls of, smiles, and turns towards it.

It can turn a 20-minute feed into an hour.

I’ve tried quiet rooms. That worked – until his brothers figured out that these were the perfect times to get into everything they shouldn’t. So no more quiet rooms for us.

So now we simply try to work with it. I admit that I turn on the TV for his brothers to minimize distractions, but they still occur. Fortunately, the baby does have his good times. He eats much better during the evening, less so throughout the day. So I try to maximize the evening feeds understanding that I have to take what I can get. And it seems to go in phases – around four months was really difficult as everything seemed to pull him away from the task at hand, while now at six months it seems to be improving.

Little hands are curious.

As much as outside sights and sounds distract my baby, his own hands do as well. He reaches for everything. Like my hair, which he grasps and yanks and will not let go of. Or my chin, which he scratches and scrapes with tiny baby fingernails. Or even my jaw, which he grips onto and tugs while feeding away.

It’s not comfortable for me and as much as I love my baby, I don’t love having to extract my pulled-out hair from clenched baby hands.

So I’ve learned to prevent it by keeping his hands busy during feeds. Offering him fingers or small toys to grasp onto. Wearing tug-resistant shirts that won’t untie or unravel when pulled. And tying my hair back into ponytails – lots and lots of ponytails – to keep it safe from curious hands.

I still pump.

And I still hate it. Fortunately, I will now go many days with only a single electric pumping session each morning after waking up engorged.

For other times throughout the day, if I’m out and about, I’ve discovered the wonder of the manual hand pump.

Hear me out. I, too, was appalled by the notion of manually pumping my own breasts. I held off until my third baby was 4.5 months old before finally purchasing one out of necessity (and to use up an expiring gift card) – because I didn’t want to lug my big double electric pump on an all-day outing.

And I freaking LOVE it!

I bought the Medela Harmony because my electric pump is also Medela (hooray for interchangeable bottles and parts)! And I now carry it everywhere. It is awesome:

It’s SMALL. Which means I can discretely carry it in my purse for whenever I need it.
It is INCREDIBLY efficient. In fact, I pump more milk manually using the hand pump than I get via the electric pump. It’s probably because I am consciously controlling the speed and action versus simply vegging out on the couch – but to this day I am amazed at how much milk I get in a much faster session.
Fewer parts to clean. Just one bottle, one breast shield, and one membrane kit. Hallelujah!
Easy to clean on the go. I am in love with the Medela Quick Clean Wipes – no soap or water needed!
It is QUIET. I can do it without anyone hearing it – unlike my electric pump which often prompts questions on phone calls: “what is that whooshing noise in the background??”
Fewer supplies needed. No tubes, no hands-free pumping bra, no electrical outlet nor cords. Just the pump and my breast is all I need. And a cover to use it in public.

So, yes, I still pump BUT am enjoying much more flexibility in how I pump.

Babies don’t nurse as often as newborns.

This was a welcome revelation seeing as I spent close to entire days in bed nursing my newborn. Now he can go much longer without nursing, and the feeds are more efficient. We’ve gotten into a groove.

The best thing about this is now being able to schedule my day. I know roughly when the baby will need to eat, and can schedule departures/arrivals around those times. I know that when he eats, he will eat well (as long as he’s not overly distracted), and then be satiated for a longer period of time. And I know that since we both have a handle on what we’re doing, we can pop in a quick 10-minute feed if need be to hold him over. It’s gotten much easier all around.

Introducing solids reduces the reliance on breast milk alone.

Most 6-month-olds are on solids and I, too, started my baby on solids at the six month mark. It’s still new for us, but already I am noticing his breast milk needs beginning to level out with the introduction of solid food.

Which makes my nursing job a bit easier and less time-consuming as I begin to focus more on other forms of nutrition and sustenance. And bittersweet as I reflect on how his dependence on me will continue to lessen as time goes on.

It is a gift.

The gratification of nursing my baby has not changed since he was a newborn. I feel so grateful and satisfied to be continuing this journey with him as he matures. There are now thousands of moments catalogued deep into the recesses of my memory – of him falling asleep on the breast, cooing after a feed, smiling in gratitude, giggling, or simply looking up at me as he eats while grasping my finger.

Even at 2am, when I am exhausted and want to cry myself when he is again crying to eat, I can’t help but be thankful for those precious moments once he’s latched on, dozing, and content. They really are a gift.

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And this is why I’m in it for the long haul. The end is nearing, faster than I’d like, and I want to soak up these final moments before they’re gone. This special time shared by only my baby and I. Because sooner than I know it, this will be the time I miss.

Thank You to the Woman in the SUV

I’m excited to have this first piece published on Parent.co today, a dynamic digital publication that aims to inspire parents by sharing “useful, hilarious, and compelling stories every day.” I’ve enjoyed so many of the essays I’ve read there, and am excited to have one of my own featured. Check it out below or on Parent.co!

It was a rough day.

I had been up all night with a new baby and was on Day 3 of a migraine. I hadn’t showered and my hair smelled faintly of the garlic chicken dinner we’d made two nights prior. My husband had just returned to work after baby bonding leave, and it was one of the first days I would have to wrangle an infant, 2-year-old, and 4-year-old all alone.

The morning started with a bang – literally – as my toddler shattered a coffee mug and my preschooler spilled milk onto the dog and the floor. The kids fought over who would get the purple plate for breakfast and this ended with tears, a time out, and me admonishing that hitting is NOT acceptable.

The baby was suffering from his first cold a la his big brothers and couldn’t quite figure out how to nurse and breathe at the same time. He cried and bit in frustration, and I responded with yelps and pleas. Meanwhile the older boys unraveled an entire roll of toilet paper throughout the house – in order to “get a tissue for the baby’s nose.”

I took a deep breath and glanced at the clock, praying that afternoon nap time was near.

It was 9am.

I decided to walk to the park. The boys needed to burn off some energy and the fresh air would be good for the baby’s cold. Thus ensued another forty minutes of finding shoes, putting them on the right feet, going potty, dressing an angry baby, and mitigating fights over who would get to bring the McDonald’s Happy Meal toy with them.

Finally – FINALLY – we were out the door. I wore the baby in an infant carrier while pushing the toddler in a stroller. The preschooler was firmly instructed to hold onto the stroller as we lumbered down the alley two blocks to the neighborhood parkette.

We arrived, shutting the gate behind us, and the boys let loose like released bulls. The baby and I followed them, spotting, watching, and pushing on swings. I chatted with a couple of moms and nannies and not one commented on the spit up all over my shirt. The kids all shared a snack. And it seemed like the day was getting better. I could do this!

Then. A toy stroller was brought into the park. And all hell broke loose as the kids fought over it. Guardians rushed over to intervene and it was then that I noticed my son had wet his pants. We would have to go home and change.

He didn’t want to, and made sure the entire park knew it. He howled as I tried to coax him to the stroller. Dug his heels in as I took his hand. Ultimately forced me to carry him under my arm as he screamed and flailed like a fish out of water.

The commotion woke the baby who also began bawling in the carrier. And it was about this time that my third son decided he wasn’t going to sit in the stroller. This led to another meltdown as I had to forcibly buckle him in while all three wailed in unison.

The nannies looked at me sympathetically as I struggled with three crying boys. One of them held the gate open for me as I tried to maneuver a toddler dragging his feet beneath a stroller and a preschooler screaming under my arm – with a baby strapped to my chest. My head pounded from the migraine.

I glanced back just in time to catch a mom shaking her head and whispering something to another. My cheeks burned.

We made it out of the park and I stopped a few yards away, out of earshot. I placed my screeching son down and gripped his shoulder while I told him he needed to calm down and walk. He ignored me and bellowed louder. I threatened the loss of privileges. It didn’t work. He refused to walk.

I bent my head down and took a deep breath, tears of frustration pricking my eyes. I struggled to pick him up again and trudged slowly, awkwardly, into the alley. My toddler’s dragging shoes left skid marks on the street. The baby’s sunhat fell over his face. And the wails of all three echoed off the walls of houses.

Then of course. OF COURSE. An SUV turned into the alley and headed our way. On a one-way narrow street. I rolled my eyes and cursed under my breath. It took all the strength I had to force the stroller and a fighting preschooler over to the side of the road. I stood there impatiently, willing the SUV to just hurry up and GO BY already.

But it slowed down. You’ve got to be kidding me. Surely the driver saw me struggling. I was standing there on the verge of losing my shit and someone was going to ask me for directions!?

As it got closer, I saw that the driver was a woman. And then suddenly it occurred to me that perhaps she was going to make a comment, a judgment, about my screaming kids. A “friendly” piece of advice about how to make them stop misbehaving. Something to make me feel like more of a failure than I already did. I remembered the mother in the park. The condescending look. The whisper.

A pit in the middle of my stomach grew.

The SUV stopped at my side and the driver rolled down the window. I turned towards her, annoyed, and lifted my eyebrows impatiently.

She smiled at me kindly. “I just wanted to tell you that you’re doing an amazing job, Mom.”

I blinked. Confused. Instinctively looked behind me.

The woman nodded. Warmly. She leaned forward and said it again. I could barely hear her over the howls of my kids.

“You are doing an amazing job. You really are. Hang in there. And know that you’re a wonderful mom.”

The pit in my stomach dissolved. I began to breathe. And I looked up at her and shook my head, wondering how to convey my gratitude.

“Thank you SO much. Thank you.”

She nodded and told me to take care. Even the boys finally took notice as their cries began to peter out. The woman rolled up the window and drove past.

I stood there. Still stunned. And a weight was lifted. I was in awe of this woman, this stranger, who took a moment to change the course of my day. I felt new resolve and new strength. Forgot about the woman in the park. Straightened up. And gathered the kids to continue the walk home.

I doubt this woman even remembers me. That she even gave the encounter a second thought. But for me, it is something I will never forget. The kindness of a stranger that lifted my spirits during an ordinary moment. But a moment when I needed it most.

And for that, I thank her.

Guest Post: Everything You’ve Wanted to Know About Being a Transgender Parent – But Were Too Afraid to Ask

Today’s guest post is from Kal, blogger at Small Town Nerds and LGBT parent of 5. He joins us to openly discuss many of the “taboo” questions that he receives as a result of transitioning while parenting young children ages 8 and under.

Ever since coming out 2 years ago and starting my gender transition, I’ve been privileged to receive many invasive questions on the subject of me being a transgender parent. Most are people genuinely looking to understand, which is great, but there’s still a ton that are much more… Nosey. I get it, I’m not “the norm” and it’s fascinating to learn about different people, but it is exhausting.

So, I’ve put together a list of commonly asked questions that you might want to know, or that will maybe save us all a bit of awkwardness later. If you still want to know more, check out my blog.

Despite the article title, I can only speak for myself and my own experiences as a trans dad.

Why didn’t you adopt?

This one is exactly as personal as it would be for me to ask to you. If you have children, why didn’t you adopt them? Pregnancy isn’t exactly comfortable or easy. Bonus points if you underwent fertility treatment.

Photo Credit: Kal at Small Town Nerds

Sometimes we just like to have our own children. My husband had a huge desire to avoid adoption (which actually is what I wanted to do) so I made the sacrifice to undergo pregnancy 4 times (for 5 kids). A family was extremely important to us.

If you hate your breasts, why did you breastfeed?

First of all, the shame. Since I was physically able to breastfeed (I waited until we were done having children to transition) I felt a huge amount of pressure to provide the “liquid gold” for my babies.

Secondly, I actually didn’t experience as much dysphoria while breastfeeding. After mentioning this to a few people including my medical team, we’ve agreed it’s because giving my chest a purpose actually made it ok to have.

Third, I really did enjoy that bonding with my babies. I was devastated to be unable to breastfeed my premature twins.

Are your kids OK/Is this damaging them psychologically?

They seem to be fine! As they’ve made abundantly clear, their biggest issues in life seem to be the lack of dessert we serve in the house, whether or not math is actually necessary to their education, and whose turn it is to play the Playstation.

They have actually been a huge motivation for me to pursue and continue medical transition – I am so much happier, and therefore better able to parent, now that I’m taking care of myself. We’re all benefitting.

Photo Credit: Kal at Small Town Nerds

Are you worried about them getting made fun of?

This one is a huge sore spot for me. I, a nerdy queer kid, was bullied mercilessly in school. On the literal other side of the world, my darling husband who didn’t realize his sexual orientation until later, had a horrendous time in school as well. We’re both deeply affected by the way we were attacked and isolated by our peers and are always anxious of our children meeting a similar fate.

Children are bullied and not bullied for all kinds of different reasons, sometimes inexplicably. We have taken measures to prevent this issue painting a target on their backs by making sure they’re enrolled in a more inclusive school and being “out” to their friends’ parents to ensure they have at least someone they can count on. They are just finishing up 3rd and 1st grade and so far we’ve experienced no issues.

What do your kids call you?

They still call me mom, but I hate when other people do it. Online I go by just “parent” but prefer “dad”. Since they already have a dad at home, I can’t really take that title. They’ve also been calling me this name for a long time, so it’s difficult to change.

Sometimes, though, they call me “dad 2” or “mommy daddy”.

Photo Credit: Kal at Small Town Nerds

So are you gay?

I’m bisexual, technically, but usually this question is in relation to my marriage. Until I change my sex designation, I’m in a heterosexual marriage legally but I consider it a homosexual one, and later on paper it will just be a same sex marriage. In Canada this has been legal since 2003.

Isn’t your husband straight?

Again, no. Bisexuality is a thing people forget about so often. He’s a little more complicated though – where I feel split pretty evenly, he prefers women and likes men of a certain type. Thankfully, I fit that type. He’s quite into it, actually…

So are you… A man… Completely…? Or will you be?

This is how everyone seems to ask this question. Unfortunately, surgery has quite a few drawbacks. First of all, it’s not perfect, not even close to perfect actually. You’re either left with a micropenis or something you have to inflate with a manual pump – talk about still feeling inadequate.

Secondly, it’s not covered under my provincial health care.

Third, it’s a compromise I’m making for my husband. The first two factors are the biggest motivation, of course, and until things improve I’m not exploring this any further.

Legally, however, I will be male. I’m also getting “top surgery” as soon as my name reaches the top of the waitlist.

EVERYTHING you've wanted to know about being a #transgender #parent - but were too afraid to ask! Share on X

How does sex with your husband work?

Why oh why does everyone want to know how trans people have sex. Oh yeah, it’s interesting. It has been nothing but up since the day I came out with my transition getting me happier, healthier, and more open every day. I had so many weird issues that we ended up attributing to dysphoria, and now we’re addressing them. That alone has changed everything for me.

Boring.

I know the primary audience here is going to be women: go apologize to your husband right now for not being into sex. Kidding, you don’t owe him anything, but man testosterone is powerful stuff. I considered my interest to be pretty normal before but now, wow. It’s fantastic and distracting.

As for time with my husband, well, he’s totally embraced the whole thing. I would even say he’s finding it pretty sexy, in all honesty. My face is changing a bit so it’s something new and exciting. And what we get up to? Well pretty much everything, and far too much to share in this post.

What do you teach your kids about gender identity and sexuality? Do they even understand?

With our oldest being 8 ½ we haven’t had to delve into too deep of conversations in relation to gender and sexuality. We are strongly uniform in how we raise them, trying our best to circumvent societal norms and stereotypes. We neither expect nor shame our children into certain fashion, interests, or behaviours based on gender, and try and encourage a healthy amount of exploration.

What we have explained is that some people are boys and girls, and they’re able to enjoy whatever interests, fashion, and presentation that they want. Sometimes they do not feel the gender they were born with is right for them and they change that, like me. We have a friend who’s a transwoman so it helps solidify the lesson.

With sexual orientation, we have simply gone over that sometimes men or women get married. Since this isn’t a current political issue in Canada we haven’t had to cover much more than that.

Photo Credit: Kal at Small Town Nerds

What do you expect/hope to change?

Sometimes this is a considerate question, sometimes it’s backhanded, always it gets the same answer. Nothing.

There is the obvious – call me by my preferred name, address me with the right pronouns, stop calling me mom, but beyond that my life hasn’t changed a whole lot.

I am still me, just a lot happier with who I am.

Let me know if I missed anything that you’d like to know about me and my queer life. If you want to follow along with my family and gender transition, check out my blog Small Town Nerds.