An unexpected milestone, Part 2Off the top of my head, I can't recall if I've mentioned one key detail - I probably have but brain cells are still a bit sluggish this morning. My mom has been a Jehovah's Witness for several decades now. She had said that she normally hosts a bible study meeting on Saturday mornings and I had offered to make sure Stephanie and I clear out and head to the beach before the guests start showing up. Not knowing exactly how much she has told her church friends, I just wanted to save her from a potentially uncomfortable situation. I'm still taking things a step at a time, after all. Since recovering from being sick, she had said she cancelled the meeting at her house for that morning, so we made a slight change in plan. We decided to all go out to breakfast together before Steph and I left for our seaside adventure.
All of those ideas went out the window suddenly when the doorbell rang. Steph and I looked at each other, mutually sharing an unspoken, "Uh-oh!"
Mom wasn't nearby at the moment and I debated whether or not to answer the door, but if she hadn't heard the doorbell, she heard the subsequent barking and moved to open the door. Again, not knowing what, if anything, she had told her friends, I decided to just hover nearby within sight of the door and let her take the lead. I would be okay with however she wanted to approach the situation. In the doorway stood an older lady in a black lace-trimmed dress, with a kind smile on her face. Her name was Georgia and she was one of my mom's friends who hadn't gotten the message that the study group was cancelled.
As Mom invited her in, Georgia saw me standing off to the side. I smiled and said, "Good morning."
With a look of mild puzzlement in her eyes, she returned my greeting and turned back to my mom.
It's been a week since then and I still can't believe this happened. Almost without hesitation, Mom gestured to me and to Georgia, she said,
"This is Cassie. She's my daughter."
I should be moved to tears by this but I think I'm still stunned at this amazingly unexpected display of acceptance by my mom. I can only imagine how much courage that must have taken on her part to say those words so matter-of-factly. I'm finding out on an almost regular basis just how much I've misjudged that amazing lady over the years...and how much of happy times like these I've missed out on over those years. I can honestly say that if she had grown bitter over those years and rejected this new me, I would have no right to complain after the way I had behaved toward her for so long. That must be a testament to the strength which I never knew or at least never acknowledged that she had. Maybe my own strength doesn't
just come from my paternal grandmother. Maybe I got some from both sides of the family.
Later, after a brief conversation, Georgia left us to join the group in their alternate location and we were off on the way to breakfast. A few minutes into the drive, I looked over at my mom and said, "Back there, when you introduced me to Georgia as 'Cassie' and said that I was your daughter, I just wanted you to know how much that means to me. Thank you so much, mom!"
Her reply was as honest as can be, "You're welcome, though I wish it was the other way around."
"That's fair," I said, "but thank you just the same."
We arrived at the restaurant, were greeted and treated as the ladies we were, dined on breakfast-y stuff, including sharing the heart-stoppingly enormous pancakes that my mom ordered. Being that the proprietors of the restaurant were apparently from Pennsylvania, scrapple was on the menu and of course, Mom had to order some. Steph and I, being Pennsylvania gals at one point in our lives, were acquainted with the stuff but hadn't had it in many years until we were offered a taste of what Mom ordered. It wasn't as flavorful as I remember but then again, I used to drown it in Karo syrup when I used to eat it - this was before I found out what was actually
in scrapple. Yikes!
Mom & Cassie
After breakfast, we headed back to the house to get ready for our beach excursion. The weather was not looking so good, but Steph and I were determined to get out there and have a moment to enjoy. With bathing suits and coverups in place, fabulousness engaged at full throttle, and refreshments in the cooler, we were off. We went to a beach access I used to go to back when I lived down that way. Needless to say, it had changed somewhat in the 20-some-odd years it had been since my last visit. The boardwalk was all different, probably owing to one or more of the hurricanes that hit the area in those intervening years. The beach itself was just as I remembered it. Soft sand mixed with shell fragments and only a few people around. Perfect!
As we stepped foot on the actual sand, I laughed and said, "Aaaaand now..." setting one foot in the sand, "...everything's covered in sand. It's an inevitable fact of the beach."
Once we selected our spot and set down our chairs and other items, we engaged our collective brain power to decipher the meaning of the instruction sheet for setting up our little shelter we had brought. The challenge that once stood before us was swiftly reduced to a quivering mass under the weight of our sheer determination and soon resembled a properly-assembled beach shelter. We both sat back in our chairs with twin sighs of relief and were finally able to relax for a bit.
Shortly after, I put some ice in my cup and poured a drink from the bottle containing a mixture I had dubbed "Cherry Pomme". The entrance to the beach access had a sign that said "No alcohol", as did most of the beaches in the area. Fortunately, I hadn't put any alcohol into the bottle of apple juice I brought - only cherry vodka. Just alcohol would have been disgusting. With Stephanie's cup iced and filled as well, we saluted each other, clinked our stainless-steel cups together, and said, "Well, we made it!"
The weather, held at bay by convection currents at the coast, was nevertheless inexorably approaching, bound and determined to mess up our day. Still, we had a couple of hours out there, just enjoying the day and each other's company. The rumbling and blustering emanating from just beyond the dunes eventually convinced us to pack up and leave that peaceful, relaxing place.
After we headed back to Mom's place and got cleaned up, Mom told me that since she had lost nearly 35 pounds on the diet she'd been on, she had some clothes that didn't fit anymore and asked if I might want them. I was again surprised by this and asked her what size they were. It just happened to be exactly my size, so into the bedroom we went and she started pulling one thing after another out of her dresser and closet to lay them on the bed. She left the room briefly as I stripped down to bra and panties and started to try things on. A few minutes later, she came back and said, "Oh, I have a few bras that don't fit anymore either. Would you want them too?"
"It depends on the size but I'll try them," I replied. She brought out a couple of bras which, to my delight, were the right band size but not as delightful, were a much larger cup size than I could currently fill. I felt almost like the joke featuring the skinny nerdy person applying for a construction job who was handed a very oversized T-shirt and told "Here, fill this out."
Maybe someday I will, if nature and HRT are kind to me. One of the bras was a leopard-print so, of course, that was the one I had to try on. As I turned away to remove mine and try on the new one, I turned to her and said with a grin, "You have excellent taste." She smiled and we both laughed at that.
What was significant about this event is that there was absolutely no awkwardness between us. It was one of those mother-daughter bonding moments of the kind I had only dreamed of in the past but thought would never become a reality, but there we were. Yet another unexpected milestone had passed.
A bit later, I decided to keep most of what she had offered, with the exception of some men's shorts she said she had bought just for working around the house because they were roomy and comfortable. Needless to say, I had already summarily rejected those on principle alone but tried them on none the less. I didn't really need that principle as the basis for rejection however since they just plain did not fit. They bulged and sagged in all the wrong places but reminded me about just how far I've come in the last year-and-a-half.
With the clothing donations sorted into the 'keep' and 'reject' piles, I was about to start getting ready to go and have dinner with my aunt and uncle when Mom asked me, "So Cassie, what do you think is the next step for you?"
I paused for a moment and said, "Well, probably the next major thing on my list is what we call 'bottom surgery', since I found out that my insurance will cover it - well, sort of." I then told her of the requirements I have to meet before they will approve coverage of vaginoplasty - most of which I've already met, and the time-based ones will be met in exactly three days, when I celebrate my re-birthday.
Then she rather bluntly asked the question that burns in the minds of many cis-people who are unfamiliar with how the procedure works, "So what, do they just cut it off?"
"No, they merely reshape everything into a what looks, feels, and functions like any other woman's vagina."
"Oh."
"After that, I'll probably be having vocal surgery done, but that most likely won't be until some time next year."
Her curiosity satisfied, our conversation drifted to other topics as I continued getting ready. Again, we had one of those moments while I was doing my makeup in the bathroom mirror and she was next to me, watching and chatting with absolutely zero awkwardness. Just the way it should be in a
normal life.
Ha.
Normal life. I never envisioned that I would ever be using that term to describe
my life, and yet here it is. I'm living it.
Stephanie and I finished getting ready, packed our bags, and hugged and said our goodbyes to my mom.
With that, we were on our way to have dinner with my aunt and uncle and they would get to meet Stephanie.
(Continued in Part 3)
[Edited 7/2/2018 - Corrections made to fatigue-induced grammatical errors.]
