A story based in Wales, though it could be anywhere, of how some people cope with a potentially difficult situation using the one resource we are all capable of using, love.

I hope you will enjoy. Angharad.

Ryan’s Daughter.
by
Angharad.

“Do your homework, Rhiannon,” Heulwen stood with her hands on her hips.

“Aww, Mam, can’t I do it later?”

“You know what we agreed, now go and do it or it’ll be up to bed for you without any stories.”

“Yes, Mam,” Rhiannon sloped off to the dining room and sat at the table again with her books.

Her mother looked back at her as she sucked on her pen whilst doing her maths homework. She was a pretty kid, twelve years old and bonny as they come. She went back to her ironing, it was as big a chore as Rhiannon’s homework, but she would finish as soon as her daughter did her homework and then they would sit down together and read, it was her favourite time of the day.

The stories they read were on the internet, there weren’t many available of the genre which Rhiannon liked best, stories about girls who were once considered to be boys.

As Heulwen slid the hissing iron to remove the creases from her daughter’s school blouse, she thought back over how they had got to where they were now.

Thirteen years ago when she had first become pregnant and she and Ryan had celebrated their first child to be, they had said they didn’t care what it was as long as it was healthy. They had christened the growing bulge, ‘Chwydd’, and celebrated its development. Heulwen was sure it was a girl, Ryan that it would be a boy. Sometimes they wondered if it was twins it seemed to be growing so big and also seemed to have loads more arms and legs than the average human.

As the pregnancy neared its full term, ‘Chwydd’ seemed to sit or lie on its mother’s bladder more and more often, and she chided it for having to run to the toilet so frequently.

Her parents were so pleased, they were going to be grandparents at last. They hoped there would be more than one grandchild and Ryan had joked they would have three kids, one of each.

His parents-in-law looked bemused; “You know, a boy, a girl and one don’t know.”

“Don’t joke about such things, Ryan; you know how people talk about that sort of thing.”

“Glenys, surely these days people are a bit more enlightened than that.”

“I wish they were, Ryan, but you know how they gossip in small towns and villages.”

How you gossip, you mean, he thought to himself. “Well don’t worry, Chwydd, is going to be perfect.

“Chwydd?”

“Yes, Heulwen’s little bulge, her chwydd.”

“You silly boy, calling your future son or daughter such a name.”

“Well others call them sprog or other equally ugly names until they are born and christened,” and sometimes after that.

He was present at the delivery and when he held his child for the first time and saw how small it was, he realised Heulwen had been carrying quite a lot of water. “Is this it?” He asked knowing full well it was, he’d been present at the birth, which had been a reasonably straightforward one for a first baby.

“Of course it is, why?” asked the midwife who had helped with the delivery.

“I thought we had a bigger litter than this. He’s a bit small isn’t he?”

“That’s why he came out so easily.”

“Yeah, two coughs and out he popped.”

“If it was so bloody easy, Ryan Jones, you can have the next one.”

“I’ll pass on that,” he said, “now you’ve got the hang of it, I’ll let you do the easy bit. You’ll never know how hard it is standing here watching, Dew, t’is worse than watching Wales pushing in the scrum against the bloody English.”

“Men!” said Heulwen, “if they had to have babies they’d have become extinct with Adam.”

The midwife laughed.

The blouse ironed, she took the pleated skirt and pulled it over the end of the ironing board before continuing the reverie. Twelve years ago, their beloved baby boy had been safely delivered and then they brought him home.

She was astonished, the once neutral nursery was now pale blue and still smelled slightly of paint. The mobiles hanging over the cot were of cars not butterflies and the blue teddy bear summed things up pretty well, he was dressed as a rugby player. Ryan it seemed had certain assumptions about his son.

However Rhys, as they named their beloved child seemed to be anything but the boisterous boy his father wanted. He remained smaller than expected and didn’t like rough housing with his dad. He loved to be with his dad but didn’t want to fight with him and seemed to cry so easily appearing frightened by physical effort.

For all his lost aspirations, Ryan loved his kid and the boy his father. They went everywhere together although Ryan was concerned when he saw Rhys preferring to play with dolls whenever he got the chance rather than cars or footballs.

Ryan and Heulwen even had the odd row about Rhys’ obvious missing masculinity. “Let the boy alone, if he doesn’t want to be a big puddin’ head and play rugby, what does it matter?”

“The bloody kid would rather play with dollies than cars or guns, you’re not stopping him are you?”

“Me? How dare you! I let him be himself, if he wants to play with dolls, we’ll get him a doll.”

“Oh no we won’t, I won’t have a son of mine like some bloody nancy-boy!”

“Look sweetheart, it’s probably just a phase he’s going through, humour him, I’m sure he’ll grow out of it.”

So they got him a doll and then a pram and then a cot and then loads of doll’s clothes and Rhys was happy. Ryan wasn’t, he was very confused and not a little frightened.

One day soon after they had bought Rhys the doll and accessories, his parents sat enjoying a cup of tea and watching him play, when he picked up his doll which he called Cerys.

“Come to yer mam,” he said picking up his doll, and holding it against him he gave it its bottle, “Drink it up nicely for Mammy.”

Ryan looked at Heulwen his eyes wide with horror. “Did he just say what I think he did?”

She nodded back. “Rhys are you being a good daddy for your baby?”

“No, I’m her mam, just like you.”

Ryan was about to explode, but Heulwen stopped him. “I thought you were Cerys’ daddy.”

“No mam, I’m her mam.”

“But you’re a boy, Rhys, boys become daddies.”

“I don’t wanna be a daddy, I’m her mam.”

“Okay cariad.”

From then on, things seemed to get worse. When he was enrolled in nursery school, the teacher called Heulwen in to see her. “Is Rhys a boy?”

“Of course he is,” defended his mother, “how can you ask that?”

“Each morning this week he’s dressed up in the dressing up clothes in a long dress and played with the dollies.”

“So, he’s probably experimenting with gender roles.”

“I asked him about it, and he told me he has several dollies at home, plus all the accessories.”

“Erm,” blushed Heulwen, “it’s what he said he wanted for his birthday, maybe he’s going to be an obstetrician or a paediatrician.”

“Or a mammy?”

Oh shit! “What do you mean?”

“Well that’s how he describes himself, doesn’t he have any contact with his father?”

“Of course he does, he just likes playing with dolls, no harm in that is there?”

“If it continues, I’ll have to get the psychologist to see him, just watch him play, if only to prove we’re not influencing him. I hope you’re okay with that?”

“I suppose so. I keep hoping he’ll grow out of it, but he doesn’t. He keeps asking me why he can’t have long hair like the other girls. It’s driving his dad absolutely mad. He loves him to bits but is finding it so hard to cope with having a son who seems more like a girl.”

“He may well grow out of it, I’ve seen other boys who like to play with girl’s toys but not as consistently as Rhys, I think it might be worth an evaluation.”

“I’ll speak to Ryan, we’re just frightened it will be stuck on his record and follow him forever more.”

Heulwen emptied out the iron at the same time as Rhiannon put her pens away. “Can we do stories now?”

“Of course, cariad.”

“Shall I switch on the computer?”

“Yes, I’ll bring some milk and biscuits.”

Rhiannon was very good and never attempted to access the sites from which the stories came. They were adult sites, which some would label porno sites, although the two or three Heulwen had found carried very little which could be described as pornographic. However, to be safe, she downloaded the stories she deemed suitable, and they read them together from the computer’s memory or she printed them off.

One which was largely suitable with a bit of editing had run for over two hundred episodes and seemed to still be going strong, the same author had produced two or three other serials which Heulwen considered suitable for Rhiannon, but she wondered how anyone could find the time to type all this stuff, entertaining as it was.

Some of the other stories were funny or romantic, some were almost in the category of tragedy and Rhiannon cried at those, mind you so did Heulwen. Some of the authors were very talented writers, and there was one about a summer camp which Rhiannon really liked.

Over the twelve years so much had changed. The psychologist was convinced there was family pressure but could find no evidence for it. Ryan nearly went ballistic at that. Her parents backed him up, telling the psychologist that any pressure there was on the child was to be a normal boy, but he didn’t want to know or didn’t have the wherewithal to do it.

The GP was involved, sent off blood tests but they were normal, so were chromosomes and hormone levels. They referred to a specialist clinic and they were equally foxed, eventually deciding it must Gender Identity Disorder.

“Pity you don’t live in Holland or Scandinavia, they seem much better suited to helping with all this,” said the clinic.

So that’s what they did. Ryan who was a computer expert got a job in Holland and they sought help there. It was forthcoming and although Rhys was too young for any oestrogen they did prescribe anti-androgens to prevent masculinisation. Though this came with the price of regular blood tests to check liver function.

The families rallied round, and when Rhys transitioned they all sent her cards and presents. She chose the name Rhiannon after her friend in nursery and the Celtic goddess.

That was two years before and Rhiannon had spent nearly a year living as a girl in Holland before they came back to the UK. Heulwen had wanted the doctors to prescribe oestrogens but none of them would, their argument was she was too young.

“But with the hormone blockers, shouldn’t she have something to replace them?”

“No, it’s only the secondary effects they prevent, body hair, beard that sort of thing, plus muscle development.”

“What about breast and hip development? She’s going to be behind all her contemporaries when she goes back to school.”

“Girls all develop at different rates, she’ll probably get a small amount of breast growth in the absence of the testosterone, her natural oestrogens will be more effective.”

“Isn’t there anything we can do?”

“I suppose you could give her soya isoflavones.”

“What’s that?”

“Phytogens, a sort of plant hormone that is similar to oestrogen, but it’s available over the counter.”

“Are they safe?”

“Do you think I’d be telling you if I thought they weren’t?”

“No I suppose not.”

So that’s what Heulwen did, they weren’t exactly cheap nor did they have much effect–at first–then over the following year, Rhiannon had small breast buds, at least as big as most of the girls in her class and she didn’t feel so left out.

They had returned to Wales, but to Cardiff, a city where they could keep in touch with family but be anonymous.

Rhiannon was accepted as a girl by the local school and she fitted in very well, just having to be a little careful in changing rooms and showers. Thankfully, the showers were all cubicles. She made the hockey and netball teams and even had one or two valentines cards that first year.

Heulwen and Ryan began to relax, they saw how much happier she was than he had been. There were still bridges to cross and there was always the risk of disclosure, but it was worth it to see their child reach her potential, which is the duty of all parents. They decided they had done the right thing, which reluctantly Ryan’s parents agreed was the case, they had been horrified at first, but then they saw how happy Rhiannon was and after talking with Heulwen’s parents, agreed it was a special case and they allowed the photos of their grandson to disappear and ones of their granddaughter to emerge in their place.

“You know,” said Daniel, Ryan’s dad, to Glenys, Heulwen’s mum, “I’d always thought this gender swapping stuff was closet gays trying to legitimise themselves, but Rhiannon has made me rethink all of that. She hasn’t been around long enough to decide which way she swings, yet she knows she’s a girl. So maybe, it is something biological.”

“Dan, of course it is, how could it happen otherwise, you saw her acting like a girl when she was a babe in arms, it was just that none of us recognised it. She wasn’t an aberrant boy, she was a natural girl and now she’s on the road to fulfilling that.”

“Damn Glen, I hadn’t thought of it like that, yeah, that’s pretty well how it is. I feel better now.”

Glenys shook her head, not quite understanding why it seemed okay for a girl to want to be a boy but not the other way around. But once Daniel seemed to see a perspective of a girl with a problem rather than a boy who wanted to be a girl, it seemed easier for him to understand. “Bloody men,” said Glenys under her breath, then went back to share in the celebrations of Rhiannon’s birthday party.