I remember yearning for you. Your dad and I would argue about it. Were we ready to have kids? Was it the right time? In my heart, I was ready. I knew you were going to be the child God wanted for me. Even after we finally agreed to try, things were not so simple. Tests and prescriptions followed. Then I was pregnant. 

Excitement and preparations followed. Did we want to know what we were having? Of course! Let’s be prepared! The sonogram showed a girl. As the shower was planned I specifically asked for no pink. I didn’t like pink. We still got lots of pink. 

You arrived three weeks early. It’s always been  on your terms, hasn’t it? You were healthy except for some jaundice. After a few weeks, we settled into a new norm. We were a family. You became a favorite of my Bright and Early co-workers. Especially Marcia, whom you called “Sha Sha.” She took you for overnights and weekends. I loved how much she loved you!

Maybe it was going to day care with me. Maybe it was a pre-disposition. I don’t know. We spent more time at the pediatrician that first year than I ever imagined. Ear infection after ear infection. You were a happy baby in spite of them. Finally, at 11 months old, they said enough was enough and put tubes in your ears. Shortly after, you ended up in Children’s Hospital with a kidney infection. My poor baby had suffered so much already. But you were a trooper who pushed through. 

Your sister was born before your first birthday. You were fascinated by this thing that squeaked and smelled funny. Soon you were walking and talking non-stop. You chatted up every person you met. You had so much to say! Even Mia had no reason to talk. You talked for her! You two had your own private language that only you understood. You were my Mia-translator. 

Another year, another sister! You insisted Louisa was your baby. You had to hold her, help her, and attend to her. That is, until she crawled. Then you protested. She touched your stuff! She was not your sweet baby any more! But you were still mine. 

As you grew, you became your own, strong-willed person. I bought book after book in an attempt to figure you out. Then Sha-Sha died. You took it hard. At only three, all you could talk about was death. The Caring Place helped us through. It took over a year of meetings and talking and activities. It was hard but good. My happy kid finally came back to me. 

As kindergarten approached, I wondered if you were too young. You had a late August birthday, after all. But Mrs. Vidak assured me you were more than ready. She called you, “Talkative” and said she was excited to have you in her class.  Again, you got your way.  

Dance classes, play dates, birthday parties, trick or treat….you blossomed. You had always been fierce. Now you busy too! And serious! Everyone who met you commented on how serious you were. Far too serious for you age, they said. Oh, and sarcastic. 

Then Anna moved away. You were crushed. Your reality was disrupted and it was not pretty. I could see you struggle with re-orienting yourself. Somehow you managed, although there were tear-filled nights. I rubbed your back and promised you would eventually be okay. 

Then my marriage finally fell apart. I just couldn’t hold it all together any more. This change made your head spin. You cried. You screamed. So many times you were inconsolable. You seethed with anger. You climbed out your second story bedroom window to run away to grandmas. For our family, it was a time of chaos. The pain was palpable. Therapy helped. Time helped. You emerged stronger. Again, I ached that my babies had to endure so much and I couldn’t prevent your misery. I could only stand by and love you. 

Elementary school led to Middle school. New friends and new adventures. Your excelled in your classes. Teachers raved to me about your abilities. You read voraciously. Nothing seemed to hold you back. 

You found out kids were teasing Mia. You addressed it head-on. Confronting bullies was easy for you. “Bother my sister again and…” I was both proud and appalled at how you finished that sentence!!! 

Midnight premieres of Harry Potter movies! Odyssey of the Mind. You wrote. You drew. Your talents and heart for people amazed me. You had compassion where most kids your age had contempt. I loved you fiercely and admired you even more. 

Junior high brought more change. Sometimes I wondered where my kid went. The teenage years are hard, though. You went through a goth phase. You refused to wear anything but jeans. You asked to talk to me. I sensed this was heavy and important. We sat alone in my room. You said, “I’m not straight.” Honestly, I breathed a sigh of relief. I assured you I loved you no matter what. 

High school! Boom! You joined clubs. Your leadership skills emerged. Student Council president! National Honor Society President. Basketball. You stood up for the underdog. You fought the great fight. Social justice issues became your issues. Outrage from the ignorance of others made you impatient with classmates. Coach Cal calmed you and asked that focus on graduating so you can help as an adult. 

Junior year you became withdrawn. I wasn’t sure why you seemed so irritable all the time. I sat by and loved you, because I didn’t know what else to do. As the year wore on, I worried I was losing you. You stopped talking to be about anything. Your nose was always in Tumblr. You talked about people online but gave me no actual information. Chaos had returned. Tears were mine this time. I just didn’t know. I wish I had known. AP classes and a drive to be the best compounded it all. 

Spring came and you again asked to talk to me. You wouldn’t look at me while you spoke. You shook and cried. You were terrified. I was braced to hear you. I was not prepared to hear the words you spoke. Transgender. Agender. Change of pronouns. Change of name. I promised I loved you no matter what. We started to plan. Who would be told and when. 

When someone mis-gendered you, I flinched. When people argued that “they” was not singular, we rallied together. I learned so much about the LGBQTIA+ community. Sometimes you got impatient with me. Sometimes you were grateful for my acceptance. Faster than either of us expected, you were legally August. 

Facing your senior year and college choices brought about stress unforeseen. Doctor appointments. Therapy. Hormones. Support groups. Trans dinners. New friends. A boyfriend! You pushed yourself hard. You studied. You worked hard. You wanted to be valedictorian. You wanted to get into your choice schools. Everything built up and you crumbled under the pressure. I watched helplessly. You asked why. You said you wanted to die. I called Resolve. 

Hours turned into days turned into weeks. You did the hard part. You started to recover. Sometimes you cried while I rubbed your back. Sometimes you just talked and talked and talked. As long as you talked, I didn’t worry. 

Then you called. You couldn’t breathe or talk. He broke up with you. What were you going to do? He was the only person who accepted you for who you were, you said. You were lost. 

Another call to Resolve and another trip to the DEC. You went to group therapy three times a week. You again started to emerge. Your teachers supported you. It became clear to you that you had been wrong. So many, many people accepted you and loved you. 

Thankfully, graduation finally came. You finished 4th in your class and you were pleased. The rest was a blur! In your new job at the Target Starbucks I saw you truly shine! Your managers loved you. You had your own money and you prepared to head to Ithaca. 

Now you’re a fully functional college freshman. You are meeting new people constantly. You have figured out the easiest routes to class and which dining hall has the blueberry muffins. You have joined groups and been encouraged to tell your story as part of LGBQTIA+ Discussion Panels. 

You are an amazing person. I can’t imagine how anyone would think you to be anything but that. You are loved. You are accepted. And as Grandpa says, you are August. 

Maybe if more people knew your story they would stop saying hateful things? Maybe if they knew how hard you’ve struggled or how much pain you’ve had, they’d seek to understand. Maybe if they just talked to you for a minute, they would be won over by uour contagious smile and enthusiasm. 

Stories hit my newsfeed. Laws about bathrooms. Laws about gender. I break my first rule and read the comments. My heart breaks. 

Maybe they would stop being hateful if….

August, keep being you. Keep being my firstborn and my child. Keep working. Keep talking. Keep pushing down barriers. I am so proud of you. You are on an incredible journey and are truly going to make this world a better place. 

And maybe, just maybe, they will eventually learn what so many of us already know: just how amazing you are.