Picture a person holding their breath through a difficult pose and you see how I have been getting through the tough stages of my life. Enduring it, but fighting it. Any beginner to yoga will tell you- yoga is the breath. It’s not twisting yourself up for a couple minutes while your mind wanders and then moving on. It’s a spiritual journey of being present and diving in. I didn’t know that. In truth, after 35 years of my on-again-off-again love affair with the practice, I don’t think I’ve ever truly embraced yoga until now.

I’ve spent my whole life searching for something (or someone) to make me okay. My Catholic upbringing didn’t do it for me. My love affairs didn’t fill the void. Neither did friends, food, fashion, movies, art, marathons, literature, alcohol, work, gardening, philanthropy… you get the picture. Fill in the blank- it didn’t make me feel whole. Only now do I see the equation more perfectly than I ever have in my life. Those things are all wonderful and beautiful, but they exist outside of me. I never knew that everything I ever needed exists right here in me. Right here in the breath that I seem to hold captive. I am enough.

Today we turned a corner. My sunshine and I grabbed a quick bite from the cafe next door and sat outside on the steps of the boutique before it opened. It was like a scene from a movie – us sitting there laughing and talking. The air was brisk but we didn’t notice. When we got inside we just slowly perused the shelves and the racks together and this time the mood was totally different. Perhaps I was rushed before? Maybe I didn’t listen as well as I could have in the past? Maybe she wasn’t ready yet?

After collecting a dozen things to try on, we headed to the dressing room still giggling. I actually had to take a moment to thank my lucky stars when I watched this beautiful little girl prance before the mirror in a sleeveless tailored dress, something she never felt comfortable in before. I’m not sure it was her voice or seeing my own satisfied reflection in the mirror that shook me back to reality. “Can I get this one Mom? It’s perfect!” she asked with a big, confident smile. “Of course Darling.” I said without looking at a price tag (something unheard of in this economy!) I wanted her to have that moment in her closet forever. Or maybe I wanted it there for me too? Just to remember that the dark times don’t last. The sun will come out…

Little did I know she would cry herself to sleep at night yanking on her hair. I didn’t know. Even now as her hair is starting to resemble a style she likes I still beat myself up about giving her that crew cut. And I shouldn’t. To be able to move forward I need to forgive myself for the haircut and for everything that I didn’t do right. I need to let it go.

Last night I read The Mastery of Love and it encouraged me to rethink my old programming and start to forgive. I never meant to hurt my child. That moment is gone and I need to let it go and forgive. She forgives me, so why don’t I?

Each day we heal a little more. A friend told me about a fabulous site where she bought her daughter’s cute little bob- www.wig.com. Now her daughter can fast forward to the haircut she has always dreamed of (and it didn’t break the bank!) Something as simple as that made me realize that each little step in life counts. We’ve made big strides and should be proud of where we are at right now. The next time I think of that haircut I will replace my sadness with forgiveness and give myself credit for moving on.

I think I’m 99.9% there.

Even though my daughter identifies as a female and wishes to live as a female despite her gender at birth, it doesn’t mean that her journey is the only way. It isn’t as a matter of fact. This is just her way. This is how she feels compelled to live, to be real with herself and others. This is her.

The other day I got around to reading some old emails and found a brochure about a group helping families with gender identity issues. After reading only a couple lines I could see it had a particular angle- let your kids act like the gender they identify with but live as the gender they were born. Translated- if your son feels like a girl inside give him dolls and let him dress the way he wants, but stress he is still male. I get prickly when I get to the “stress he is still male” part. I guess that is not our journey.

When Hope was little we didn’t have a hang up on what toys she played with or wanted. I admit the clothes part is a little harder but we got over it. Sure, it was a shock to our extended family when she wanted a Princess dress for Christmas one year, but it didn’t phase us really. We never had to stress that she was born with a boy’s body. That was reinforced every time she had to line up at class or was called “Buddy” by a cashier or when she took a bath. It was obvious. And it bothered her immensely. For two years she said she felt like a girl inside. Although we asked questions and really listened to her answers, we never pushed her in any direction- boy or girl. We just loved her for everything that she was day after day.

Looking back the moment felt almost natural, but saying it out loud (or writing it) feels funny. How could it be natural for your child to ask to live as the other gender? I can only explain that it was. I’ll never forget those big tears in her eyes, the courage welled up inside when she told me that she had to live as herself from now on. She had to go to school and live as a girl. She had to.

For me, that was the moment when I learned the meaning of parenting and of love. I was faced with the choice of embracing my daughter for who she truly was or forcing her to be someone she was not. I had to let go of what I knew to be the “safe road” and truly embrace my child for exactly who she is- a girl inside. This is our journey.

Sometimes people email me and ask me if their child or family member is transgender and my answer is always “Only they know.” After all that we’ve been through and all I have read and learned I still don’t have any magical insight. No answers or formulas or anything that would ease our minds into knowing “for sure”. Each person knows who they are in their heart and it will unfold as it will. Not as comforting as a checklist, but I believe it to be true. The only message I can offer is love, love, love.

People ask what the future will hold and I don’t know that either. “What happens if she goes back to being a boy?” people ask me cautiously as if they just offended me. I tell them the truth- that I don’t know what the future holds. All I can do is meet each day honestly and lovingly no matter what. That is my ultimate job.

So many times I get lost in what I fear when I could feel dizzy with gratitude for all of the good things in my life. My children are happy and healthy. My family is loving and connected. Sure, there are the kinks in the chain of this life, but it remains strong nonetheless. It may look different, but it’s mine.

Hope is in a good space where she feels at ease with who she is (most of the time) and it inspires me. Her little locks are curling down around her ears, which makes for more mom and daughter time in the morning styling her hair. I still sneak a peek at her beaming in the mirror as we brush and comb those precious wisps reaching her collar. She’s so happy. Even Will notices. Yesterday he leaned over and whispered “Hope, you are beautiful.” and it brought streams of tears down my cheeks. How soft. How sweet for this otherwise scruffy voiced little “worker man” as he calls himself. She stopped for a moment and then gave him a huge hug that said it all.

Usually I get grumpy this time of year. Spring seems a little far from our reach in the Midwest and as winter lingers, sentiments run amuck. Not this year. I’ve consciously set my sights on the goodness of right now. Add a bottle of Vitamin D capsules, the Writings of Nichiren Daishonin and some Pilates and I am staying positive about where we are at. I’ve also taken to writing with pen and paper while writing the book and it’s unlocked a well of happiness. And truth.

I have seen a healer and she’s opened my mind. At first I shook my head when she told me my gift was bringing joy. I wanted to shout “I am not all fun and games. I am more than just a joke!” but she already knew that. Without my explanation she reassured me that I don’t need to be anyone other than me. I don’t need to put on an act. I can simply be and my true self is enough. A serious revelation for me.

Looking back I thought people just relied on me for humor. The hilarious story. The clever imitation. Back then when I was simply quiet or deep in thought people would look so disappointed and ask me what was wrong with me. “Where’s the sunshine?” The words just made me angry as if being funny was all I had going for me. I realize now that the reason this situation made me so infuriated is because I actually believed my fears all along. I thought that I would be lonely if I wasn’t laughing and it wasn’t true.

It’s hard to unlearn things, isn’t it? Each time my family fought when I was a kid I thought it was my job to make it right or better yet prevent it from happening at all. As if I was responsible for keeping everyone happy. If I could stay at the top of my game my dad wouldn’t get angry with my sister, my mom wouldn’t yell at my dad and I wouldn’t get in trouble. Like I could fix any of it. It was always such a relief to see everyone laughing. Maybe I thought that the good times would outweigh the bad at some point.

Today I realize that I can love all these different parts of myself: loving person, grateful mother, fierce advocate, clever humorist, playful little girl. All of this is me and I feel ready to shine my light without fear or hesitation. For once I will be sure to bring the joy back to me as I share it with others.

It’s refreshing for all of us to see someone who can throw out rigid gender “rules” and express himself without apology. My daughter was awestruck during an episode when he was working with some young skaters. As he was coaching a gal who was having problems with her height he said something to the effect of “I was a tall, lanky girl with long arms too.” Hope quickly glanced in my direction and asked if she heard correctly as if she slipped into one of those montages you see in the movies where the tv starts talking to you. I nodded and she beamed.

As a family we talk about the fact that boys can dance elegantly and show their emotions just as girls can be tough and strong. There aren’t any rules for living. Just be honest and reflect who you are, no matter what. We’ll be cheering Johnny on this Olympic season as he brings his powerful, unique and inspiring talent to the ice.

I feel this flood of optimism wash over me like a spring breeze, you know the one where you take off your stuffy winter coat for the first time, turn your head to the sun and close your eyes. Sure, there will be days ahead where I won’t feel like this. There will be times that are harder than what I’ve endured in the past, but for right now I am basking in the glow. To think one little gesture sparked fireworks of faith. I guess that’s all it takes sometimes.

Ironically it is the same center (different location) that a friend took me to in 1992 when I had a life crisis and needed help. There I learned to chant nam myoho renge kyo and quiet the bear inside me (or at least that’s what I used to say). I’m not exactly sure how I drifted away from the practice or even why. I recall being intimidated by Gongyo (it went so fast and I felt so awkward) but was that feeling strong enough to tear me away from chanting too? (And what was my bear doing now I wondered.)

Perhaps this same fear is what kept me sitting outside the Center in my car yesterday, just staring and wondering. It felt like I was going on my first blind date at a restaurant I’ve never been to. Was I at the right place? Would I know who he was? Would I like the food? What did it look like inside? Somehow the unknown kept me at bay like a child staring at a toy store that had closed ten minutes prior.

I never went in. I got an important call that took me in another direction. Wasn’t the right time I guess. Lately I’ve had the strong desire to find a spiritual outlet, a home if you will. Both for me and the kids. I raised them with a Golden Rule mentality, but no focused religion or group to call our own. These days (and after reading Eat, Pray, Love) I feel called to share my beliefs and values with others and move toward a greater spiritual connection. But how?

It’s been decades since I came to the realization that Catholicism didn’t speak my language. The ritual is one thing, but my heart is another. I was raised by two strict Roman Catholic parents who counted on my being Catholic. Shortly after my dad passed away, it all kind of fell to pieces. Since the mass reminded my mother of my father, most Sundays were spent in tears and painful regurgitations of his death. When I tried to attend mass as an adult, I finally listened to the words, not just go through the motions. It wasn’t for me.

That is how religion/ spirituality has been with me over the years. I sit in the stands watching (and admiring) from a distance, but never getting up close and personal. What do I think I’ll find if I go searching? Why so much fear? I’ve come so far lately- finding my voice, opening up to a new awareness, tapping into a newfound sense of courage and honesty. Perhaps tomorrow I will take a deep breath, open my mind and just walk right in.

These breathtakingly beautiful images of our planet made my jaw drop. At first the kids balked when I chose this as our Friday Night Movie Night feature, but in the end they sat paralyzed (like me) jaw dropped open beholding the majesty. It was spectacular.

Before drifting to sleep the show kept creeping back into my consciousness, the images still so fresh in my mind. My thoughts kept returning on how the mother animals protected their young with such fierce determination. (I’m still trying to get over how the polar bear mothers don’t eat for five months, but still have the stamina to shepherd and teach her cubs. That’s love!)

Fortitude.

Or how the elephant mothers will leave the safety of their pack if their little ones can’t catch up with the rest. The selflessness. They will naturally sacrifice everything. Despite the dry sandstorms and impossible odds, she keeps leading her little one toward the hope of water.

Tenacity.

I loved how the adults would circle around the young ones when a predator approaches. It doesn’t matter that it isn’t their child. They will endure the predator’s attack, the possibility of injury, pain and death for that child. Like the child belonged to the pack as much as the child belonged to the mother. They’ll risk anything to preserve the young, their hope for the future.

Perseverance.

Sometimes I wish that our society was more like the animal kingdom. I wish we could simply revert back to our natural instincts of protecting all of our children. Why don’t we get it that all children are our only hope for the future? It is not only our responsibility, it is our duty as human beings.

When I was pregnant with Hope I had lots of medical issues that caused a significant amount of inescapable pain. I struggled for quite a while with it. I did my fair share of moaning and groaning. It was tough. Then I found my mantra- fortitude, tenacity, perseverance. Every time I started thinking of what was happening to me I would say this mantra over and over to remind myself that it wasn’t just me anymore. I had to lift myself beyond my ego, beyond my body and go higher. With each incantation I was becoming a mother.

Now after all these years, I go back to my mantra when I lose sight of what is important. This life is fleeting, minutes passing by like the breeze. Am I leading by example so that my kids have a clear roadmap for life? Am I caring for other children the same way as I would hope another would care for my own? When I take a step back I see how similar we all are and my heart fills with a sense of gratitude and pride that nourishes another day.