An Adam Story

So, I don’t know if y’all know, but my son, Adam, was born Amanda.

I thought I’d lost Adam for many years, but he found me (believe it or not from a gluten-free baking class I taught at the church, the universe works in mysterious ways) last year and I couldn’t be more tickled with having his light back in my life.

Before I started telling Adam stories on here, I wanted to talk at him, because I not only wanted to respect his feelings (starting with first, did he want stories told on him? I know all bad ones, after all), but also because I wanted to respect my feelings.

After all, I raised an Amanda. I didn’t get a chance to know Adam before he was taken from me, so I have two separate mothering experiences — Amanda as a child and Adam as an adult.

So, I asked him, how do you feel, baby? How do you want me to work this?

He said, then, I was Amanda, now I am Adam. He asked that I title the posts as Adam stories, regardless as to when the stories are from, and that I make it clear that he’s transitioned and a male.

So, world, meet Adam. He’s a talented artist, a good husband, and he’s working on his Master’s degree in education. He’s my baby and it’s fixin’ to be his birthday. I missed him and cried over losing him every day that he was gone. 

We have things to work on, like all families do. Julia has a stepson now. I keep having to ask questions about what to say and how to be respectful to both of us. I screw up sometimes and call him Amanda. He doesn’t yell at me when it happens.

Expect to hear the Adam stories. I have lots.

I give thanks every single second that I have new ones now.

Much love, y’all.

BA