What Mother Didn't Know - Book 2
by Barbara Lynn Terry

(Author's note: You have all spoken and I have listened. I had to take some time to figure out how to start book 2, so I will start where I left off in book 1. Thank you all for reading and commenting on book 1. Barbara)

Chapter 1 - At home after the hearing.

When we got home from the courthouse, we all sat down and had a little talk in the dining room. Daddy was even home for this too.

"Well Susan," Mr. Marks started. "I think this all went well. Now it is up to all of us to see that your mother completes her probation. She will not be able to get custody of Angela right off the bat, because the court will want to see how she acts in society when she is released. Angela could be eighteen before she could even try to get custody of Angela. You will already be an adult when she gets out. So, for right now, at least, we have to make her see you as her daughter. She did good when she thanked you for what the judge did. But we have to make sure this isn't some game she is playing to work on your sympathy and kind heart.

"We can only do that by letting you in on her therapy sessions, now and then. I will speak to Dr. Treffert and ask him if that would be ok. He will be your mother's ward doctor when she gets there."

Dr. Darold A. Treffert, PHD, MD, was a tall man over six feet, and was slim and young looking. His looks belied his late thirties, and he looked more like a tall baskeball player just out of high school. He was a gentle man, and a caring man too. Tomorrow mother would be at the hospital, and it wasn't that far from here, so we could visit her anytime. I really do want to visit her. I want her to see "me" and not the "boy" she thought I was, or was raising me as. Don't ask me why I know, I just know mother is not a bad person, maybe a little mixed up, but definitely not bad. The threat she made to me in court, I never took really all that seriously, although I talked to mom about it.

Now things were over as far as court was concerened, but I will never stop loving her. Maybe if she sees what love is in somone else's eyes, maybe she will be able to grasp the concept. Love isn't something you give from the mind. Love is what you give from the heart, and then you know it is real. Love to some is just a superficial word that means they can have sex with their mate. But when we love someone like our sisters, brothers, mothers, fathers, even our other relatives and friends, it is a different kind of love. It is a love that says I'm with you no matter what.

But when a parent is unable to show that love to their child, then they end up like mother. I only hope that as time goes on, she gets better. Even though I have a good family right here, and they have loved me since I have known Bobbie, I still miss my birth mother. I guess it is like Mr. Marks said. I have a kind and gentle heart, and only want what is best for others. I will be thirteen in August, but I think like some responsible adults. I guess that is because, except for Bobbie and Cindy, I was pretty much around adults. It is cool for a child my age to act like an adult. Of course some of the boys act so much like an adult they can get served in almost any tavern.

But you know the best part of being able to act like an adult, when you have to is, knowing how to talk to them. I am an avid reader of the Webster's Unabridged International Dictionary, and I am very good at spelling. English composition not so much, but spelling is my Forte (pronounced fort, and if you would like to know when this became a word, it was 1648. Here is the link: http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/forte). So I guess I can hold my own when I talk to mother's doctors at the hospital. Even though I only know what stat means in medical language, I can still talk to the doctors about mother's condition, and what we can do to help her. I was very happy when the judge said she was being civily committed and it was because of me. I still feel I should be a part of her treatment. Some of you are wondering why at twelve years old, I started to really buck mom on raising me as a boy. I will give you some background on how I have thought like a girl through the years I was growing up.

Chapter 2 - Susan, the beginning.

I was born in Iowa, and was taken back to Wisconsin by my mother shortly after I was born. Mother had friends in Michigan's upper peninsula, and would take me up there every summer, until I turned five years old. She put me on the train to the U.P., and charged the conductor with my care, until I was picked up at the station. That poor conductor, but he was nice though. An older man, and he had a nice smile and a gentle manner. He even bought me a Coke and a sandwich in the club car. It was really nice. When we had gotten to the U.P., he asked where were my grand folks as he put it, and I pointed out Grandma Dolly. He took me over by her and we hugged. The conductor asked Grandma Dolly if my mother was always that pushy and explaiend what she had said to him at the station in Milwaukee. Grandma Dolly laughed a little and said where I was concerned yes she was. I thought about that for a moment though, then let it go.

But my female feelings go back before I was five years old. When I was three years old, we had a very nice birthday party and everybody my age was there that we knew. When I was looking out the window at the girls jumping rope, auntie Caroline came over to me and asked me what was wrong, because she saw that I was crying.

"I want to go play with those girls."

"Honey, you're a boy, and boys don't play jump rope. That is a girl's game." I was really crying this time, and I ran to my room. Auntie Caroline came in my room, and tried to explain things, but my three year old mind just couldn't understand why I wasn't allowed to play jump rope. What else my three year old mind couldn't grasp either was how come I got pants and shirts for my birhtday presents instead of nice dresses or a doll. I couldn't understand at that age, and I thought everybody was just being mean to me.

What I wanted then and still do, is to be treated as the girl I am deep inside. They say the eyes are the windows to the soul, yet nobody can or wants to see my soul because they are afraid they just might be able to see this girl living inside of this body. Anyway, that is all I ever wanted out of life, was to be the girl physically like the one that lived inside of this body.

But my mother, auntie Caorline, and everybody was calling me a boy and young man, and I knew, I just knew I wasn't either. So the emotions that I had then were always there, and mother never liked me being or acting like a girl. I never knew why. All I knew is that is what I was and that is how I needed to be.

Auntie Caroline didn't know how to make me feel better, so she just hugged me. "Honey, there are different games for boys and girls. The girls play with dolls and doll buggies, so that when they are mothers, they can care for their babies. Girls wear dresses and skirts, and boys wear pants and shirts. Boys like collecting snakes, turtles, bugs, and anything else dirty they can find. You are a boy, honey, and I am afraid there is nothing we can do about that."

"You mean that I can't be pretty like the girls can?"

"Yes dear, that is exactly what I mean. See honey, you have a hormone in your body called testosterone, and that will help you become strong like a man should be. You will get hair on your chest and face when you get older. I am sorry that you are a boy sweetie, but that is what you are, and you just have to make the best of it.

I just laid on my bed still crying. Auntie Caroline could not console me. "Would you like some cake and ice cream?" I didn't answer and kept crying. "This is your birthday, honey, and you are three years old today. Won't you come out and at least play with your friends. They all came to wish you a happy birthday, and brought you presents." I wouldn't be consoled then, and I did go out in the kitchen to let them sing happy birthday to me. But I was sad that nobody could "see" me. Then I went back to my room, and stayed there all night while my friends were getting messy by getting chocolate cake and ice cream all over themselves.

What did you say? I can't think like a grown up, or maybe even a ten year old, at three years old? Oh! Yes! I certainly can and I did. Auntie Caroline taught me how to write my name cursive, and said that cursive writing was just like printing, except you joined the letters together. She showed me how she wrote my name, and had me try to copy it. It took a while but I did do it, finally. Then she had me write my address. I remember there was a two in it, so I wrote two but only as the number, not the word. She showed me how to write nine sixty two in cursive, and it took me a while. (Author's note: When I was very young I had this penchant for learning, and asking questions. So this part is a little autobiography about me, but at the same time about Sue too.)

Two years later, when I started kindergarten, my friends were there with me. We were all glad that we had the same teacher. I was writing in cursive, when my teacher peeked over my shoulder.

"My, that is very good. Who taught you how to write?"

"My mommy did. She said that writing is very important."

"She is right too. Who's your mommy, sweetie?"

"Caroline, she works at the drug store with Mr. Banks."

"I know Caroline. Well all I can say is, you should be in the first grade instead of kindergarten."

"Mrs. Beecher, ma'am. I want to stay with my friends."

"Honey, what is five plus five?"

I started counting on my fingers. "Ten," I answered with a beaming smile.

"That is correct. You're what they call a prodigy. You pick up on and learn things fast. And being so young too. Your mind is way ahead of your age. I will talk to your mommy about this, and see what she says." I just smiled because I knew auntie Caroline would agree with the teacher and let me skip to the first grade. (Author's note: In real life I called auntie Caroline mother for 5 years.)

I just continued writing, while the others in the class drew pictures and played with the toys from the toy closet. When I was done writing, I went and got a doll and doll buggy from the toy closet. I hugged the doll, and laid her softly in the buggy. Mrs. Beecher came over and asked me why I was playing with a doll and doll buggy.

"Because she is my baby and I am taking her for a walk." Mrs. Beecher just stood there with her finger by her mouth. I had seen grandma Dolly do that from time, and she said it helps her think. I wondered what Mrs. Beecher was thinking.

During our lunch time, we sat in a different part of the cafeteria, and we were all talking. One of the girls came over and asked if she could sit by me. I said yes, and she sat down. She looked at me thoughtfully, like any five year could do. Then she started talking to me.

"You look more like a Susan than you do a Ronnie. I saw how you were taking care of that doll, just like she was a real baby. Would you like me to show you how to draw? My mom's been teaching me."

"Yes, I would really like that."

"Then when we get back to the classroom, we will do a little drawing. You'll like the picture you draw. You can show it your mommy."

I thought that I was the only one who was being taught things before coming to school. But here was Chrissie telling me I looked like a Susan, I had smiled when she said that she wants to teach me how to draw. Kindergarten in the fifties is a full day, so when we went back to class, and we went as a group, Chrissie got out two sheets of drawing paper, and found and empty table. That was because the others were playing with this and that. She helped me draw flowers, and a field with grass too. Then she showed me how to make the buggy. I did my best, and she showed me how to draw the doll's head and arms in the buggy, the arms being outside of the blanket, covering the doll.

When I was done, I showed it to the teacher, and she said that it was good for a first try. She even agreed that I should show it to mom. When the bell rang for the end of class, we all went out to our waiting parents. I saw mom, and showed her the drawing.

"This is very good, Ronnie. Is that one of your friends pushing the buggy."

"No mom, that's me." Chrissie showed me how to draw a little girl with a nice gingham dress that had a nice bow in the back, with nice light brown hair.

"But honey, that is a girl pushing the buggy, and you're not a girl. You're a boy, and boys don't play with dolls or push baby buggies. And boys certainly do not wear dresses, of any kind."

"Why not?"

"Well because that is the way it has always been. boys grow up to be men, and girls grow up to be women. There is nothing we can do to change that."

"Then how come that lady on television changed from being a boy to being a girl?"

"What do you know about her?"

"Nothing really. I just know when she got off the airplane, the reporters were asking her dumb questions about why she did what she did. Mom I am like she is, and being a boy is yucky to me. All of the girls say I should be a girl, because I look like one and act like one. I am a girl in here, mom," I said, pointing to my heart.

"Honey, do you want to know the difference between boys and girls? I will talk to you about it, if you want to know."

"You mean that girls have vaginas, and boys have penises? You mean that the sperm from a man makes a baby inside of the lady. Do you mean that girls have nice long hair, and you are forcing me to get mine cut, because I have a boy's body? Is that the difference between boys and girls you wanted to tell me."

"Mom, you taught me how to reade and write, and my teacher thinks I'm prodi-something or other."

"Prodigy, sweetie."

"Yes, that. But mom, if I can learn to read and write, why can't I be the girl I am in my heart? Why can't I be like the lady who got off of the airplane?"

As we got to the corner, Chrissie came up to us with her mom. "Hi Sue, I am having a sleepover on Friday and Saturday nights, and my mom says you can come, if your mom will let you."

"See even Chrissie calls me Sue. Can I go, mom, please?"

"Well, I don't know." She offered her hand to Chrissie's mom. "Hi, I'm Caroline, Ronnie's aunt actually, but he calls me mom. I think we need to talk about this. Can you come to my place for coffee. I only live a block away?"

"I'm Joan, by the way. Yes, that would nice. Chrissie told me all about Sue. Her legal name, where she lived, and how she played mommy to one of the dolls in the classroom. When she was walking with you from the school, I could see that she walked with her hips instead of with her shoulders like boys do. So I would really be delighted if Sue could come to Chrissie's sleepover. Chrissie suggested it, and she said she told the other girls about Sue and they were the ones who said Sue should come to the sleepover.

"Caroline, I think we need to really talk about Sue, because she is more girl than I have seen in some natural girls. She doesn't exaggerate her movements but does them naturally. When she talks she is so animated, and she talks fast like the girls do too. She has the voice, the movements, and she likes to do the things we do. So, I think she should be allowed to come to the sleepover."

"Well, I want to know if the girls are going to be naked. I mean, it would be improper for Ronnie to see them undressed."

"That is not going to be a problem. Chrissie has a couple of outfits she can wear while she is there. She can even have them, if you will let Chrissie give them to her."

"You keep calling him a her. Why?"

"Because she is not a boy. She may be male, but there is no boy living in that body. If you take her to see this doctor, she will confirm what I say. She is really good with children."

"Okay, I think because of what I just heard, I will take him to see this doctor. Wait just a minute while I make the call." Mom came back about ten minutes later. "She said that she wants to see him this Saturday. When I told her what I wanted Ronnie to see her about, all she said was, 'that's fine, I will see the child on Saturday'. I really didn't know what to think."

"Well, she has a procedure she calls a fishing outing. She takes the prospective "girl" out on a shopping trip, with lunch included, and observes her demeanor. If she finds any sign of a boy, she ends the shopping trip, and takes the child home. But if the child acts and behaves as a girl would, she makes further appointments and prescribes premarin for her development. Caroline, don't worry, Sue is a girl, and I would be proud to have her at my Chrissie's sleepover."

"I am really not in favor of this Joan, but if it is alright with the other girls' parents, then I would have no objection. Is there a way we can meet with everybody, say at one of their houses?"

"Yes, tomorrow. I will make the calls when I get home. See Caroline, Sue has been dressing in Chrissie's clothes for quite a while now. She is nothing but a decent young lady when she is at my house."

"Ronnie, I will see what the other mothers and girls say, before I even think about this. I have never heard of a boy being at a girl's sleepover. It just isn't done."

"Until now, Caroline. We need to have you come to our house tomorrow, so we can talk. Most of the five girls will be there. I think you will find what they have to say, very interesting."

"What time tomorrow. I get off work at six, and we have dinner around seven, then I get ready for the next day."

Why don't you come over for dinner, right after you get off of work? That way we can talk and make an evening out of it."

"Sounds good to me. I will let my mother know I won't be home for dinner tomorrow. Should Ronnie come too?"

"No, just yourself, Caroline. You won't be sorry.

That night after dinner was over, mom was awfully silent. I could see that she was thinking about what Chrissie's mom had told her. So, I said my goodnights, and hugged and kissed her on the cheek, and went to my bedroom. I just listened to records for a bit, and then decided on a nice bubble bath before bed. After my bath, I laid in my bed reading for a bit, and then turned off the lamp, and went to sleep. I could hear mom talking to grandma, because my bedroom was basically next door to the kitchen. I didn't really listen all that much, but it was just that mom wasn't in favor of me going to Chrissie's sleepover. It is funny in a way though, that things that 'just aren't heard of, or done', are starting to. The saying that goes 'there's always a first time for everything', came to mind. I got up, and sorted my clothes for the day. Then I went and got my bubble bath. Lavender today, because I was in a lavender mood. After my bath, I went to my room, and started getting dressed. I was dressed in no time because it didn't take long to throw on a pair of jeans, t-shirt, shirt, undershorts, and shoes and socks.

Mom came in and sat on my bed as I finished tying my shoelaces.

"Honey, we have to talk about this sleepoever thing. Tell me something. Have you ever wished you were a girl?"

"Everyday mom. I know who I am, and I don't like being called a boy or a young man. If that lady that came back from Denmark can be a girl, why can't I? I have always been a girl deep in here," I said, pointing to my heart. "That is all I ever wanted from any one was to be the girl I know I am."

"You know we talked about this. There are things you don't understand about being a girl, that you wouldn't like. Like for instance, girls and women are treated at best as second class citizens. Women get paid less than a man for the same job. Women are subservient to men and have to rely on them for care an support. Women are only sex objects in most men's eyes, and non people in the eyes of the rest.

"If we were to tell our men that we didn't need them or want them, except to have sex, then we would be called names by the men, and very nasty names too, and most of the men, if not all would become very violent, and hurt us. You see Ronnie, that there are more advanatages to being a man, than there are in being a girl growing up to be a woman."

"So, what you are telling me, that even though I am not a boy and never want to be a man, that there is nothing I can do about it. Right?"

"No, honey, you, I am just trying to ... is there anything that I can say that will change your mind?"

"No, mom, there isn't."

"Well, you know your grandpa will not be in favor of this, but grandma seems to understand better than I do. She said she has seen the feminine things that you do, and the way you sit and the table when she is making something. She said you even watch her and ask questions as to why she is doing things. I have even seen you take small bites at dinner time. When you sit and watch television, you don't slump like the boys do, but you sit with your hand folded in your lap, like a girl does. I will see what the other girls have to say about this. But I am not making any promises. I still think it is improper for you to see naked girls, and it is improper for them to see you undressed too. When you see this doctor on Saturday, I will go with you. I only hope that she can get to the bottom of this and make you see that there is nothing you can do to be a girl."

"What if she says it would better if I was allowed to be a girl?"

"Your grandpa would hit the roof, if not go through it. He thinks boys should be boys and grow up to be men. If this lady says you should be allowed to be a girl, then you let grandma and me talk to him. Tell me something. When you said you were going over by Bobby's, did you go by Bobby's?"

"Yes, mom, I went by my girl friend Bobbie. We always have lots of fun."

"So Bobbie is a girl and not Bobby a boy. You little imp, you're as devious as a girl too."

"I had to think of something, and Bobby said he would say I was there, but outside, if you called. Bobbie's mom knew our number though, and you never had to be called. So everything was fine. Bobbie just lives a little ways away from Bobby, so, I would walk to his house, and then over to Bobbie's. Say that five times really fast." I giggled. "But I really want to go over to Chrissie's sleepover. I have been at Bobbie's sleepovers, and it is going to be the same girls at Chrissie's."

"You have been at a girl's sleepover?"

"Yes. When I said I was spending the night or weekend at Bobby's, I was really at Bobbie's. All the same girls from Bobbie's sleepover will be there."

"You mean to tell me, that you have been to a girl's sleepover before?"

"Yes, mom."

"You are a girl, aren't you? Well, we will see what this doctor says. You see her before you have to go for the sleepover anyway. I really don't know what to say. Are you sure you are only five years old?"

I giggled a little, when I said, "yes, mom, I am."

"Uh huh, five years old, going on fifteen." We both giggled, because I knew what that meant. I was happy that she finally saw what I had been talking about. "Well, it is late, and you have school in the morning. Good night, sweetie. I love you."

"Good night, mom. I love you too.