It's my middle child's birthday today. Her name is April Dawn. She's in the pictures below with the chosen men in her life: her boyfriend and the man she calls dad.
It's both a happy and sad day for me because we haven't talked since I came out as a transgender man three years ago. This is nothing new for trans folx. Painful family rejection is a bitter pill to swallow, but today I find myself choking on it, and longing for understanding and hope.
Let me start at labor, which was difficult. April was rushed to the intensive care nursery but proved from the beginning there was a Mighty Mouse fighter inside her being.
April is a beautiful month, and I recognized my baby's beauty right away, so it seemed to fit. The beauty and newness of dawn has always appealed to my sense of mystical possibilities and wonder. I also liked the way it sounded.
The birth certificate was signed, and the nameless baby became April Dawn. Would she like her name? Did it fit? A parent never really knows, we just choose it and hope for the best. But sometimes there is more.
With strength and beauty she exemplified the name as the years passed.
Recently I realized the connection between the word April and new beginnings, renewal, and the blossoming of nature. Dawn is the time that marks the brightening dimness before sunrise. Together they celebrate the idea of having a new beginning everyday.
Shouldn't we all sit in a state of wonder each morning? Each moment? What will the new day hold? What pain might it restore?
Today I choose to sit before dawn anticipating the sun rising into the sky. Waiting with love and as much patience as I can. Hoping for and dreaming of a new day, when my beloved child can enter without fear into a new beginning. Forgiving me for whatever needs forgiving. Accepting in me whatever needs to be accepted. Entering into a new day.
A better day.
A day when our relationship can blossom into fullness.
An April Dawn.
