June Connected Voices

I have always thought of myself as an open and accepting person. I have always made it a point to treat everyone with respect and kindness. I have served many babies, young children and families from all different walks of life. I read books, I attended seminars, I participated in conversations about the importance of identity development in youth.

And still….the news came as a shock.

I’ll never forget it.

Our family of four were sitting at the dinner table when my 16-year-old child exclaimed, “I don’t know how to tell you this except to just tell you: I’m nonbinary.”

It took several seconds for me to fix my face enough to reply with two simple words: “I see.” I didn’t know what to think, what questions to ask, how to comprehend that my child was not the person I thought I knew like the back of my hand.

My child went on to explain, “I have changed my name and my pronouns to they/them.”

Immediately, I had flashes of my first-born baby and all the hopes and dreams I had.

How I used to dream about the future and all I wanted for them to have and experience.

This was NOT part of the plan. It wasn’t part of MY plan, at least. I needed help getting through this.

I started immersing myself with information about being nonbinary; what it means and how to support my child. I utilized support through friendships and organized meet ups. I read books and attended counseling for myself.

The ironic thing about this process is that it transformed me deeply… I saw the whole world differently. But it barely changed my child at all.

They were the same person, just using a different name and pronouns.

Even though it was extremely challenging to wrap my head around at times, my child was just being themselves and exploring gender with the support of their family.

Even though I did not “see” change, my child was deep in self-identity development. I didn't necessarily understand the nuances of this development, but I followed my child's lead and need to be their authentic self.

This process of “letting go” was a journey for me within itself. I had to mourn the child I envisioned and get to know the internal workings of the child in front of me. I had to listen. I didn’t have to agree, but I had to listen. 

I needed to put aside my opinions and prioritize my child’s. And through this process came a closeness between us that I never anticipated. There is a felt understanding in our relationship that I am a safe place to land when my child is struggling.

Today, my first-born is almost 20, in college and has found a passion working with horses. I have never seen my child happier.

 And the best part is I get to fully share in the joy that my baby has found a path in the world. For that, I am eternally grateful.

-Tiffany Stenson

SCIMHA Training Specialist