Little Anne Marie

As much as my father loved me, I was always the apple of my mother’s eye. She called me her miracle baby because she didn’t think she could have me—my sister is 11 years older than me and my brother 10. Then, at the tender age of 44, my mother decided she wanted a third child. My father told me she never wanted anything like she wanted to have me, but it looked like it just wasn’t going to happen. So, being old-school, Irish Catholic near the end of the year 1952, and being like a character straight out of Going My Way, ‘me sainted Irish Mudder’ made a novena to the Virgin Mary, grantor of the impossible wish, and just to be safe, she made another novena to Saint Jude, the patron saint of lost causes. Knowing Catherine Downey like I do, she probably invoked Jeremiah 1:5, Psalm 139, and to cover all her bases, she prayed to the Hindu Gods KamaDevi, Shiva and Parvati, Radna, and Krishna. No child could ever have been more wanted than this one.

In her 70s my mother was stricken by what we thought was cancer when she lost so much weight unintentionally, but it turned out that she had a rare and terminal condition known as Sarcoidosis. She was strong and brave in spirit and at the end she was in her home, surrounded by her family, when she just slipped away peacefully in my loving arms, which everybody said was how she would want it to be. As the family reminisced, I learned for the first time about some interesting details regarding my birth, things that help explain a lot of the reason I am the girl I am, and always was.

My mother believed in miracles, and since she got her first one by getting pregnant, she counted on the second: to have a baby girl. She was so sure that she planned for my crib and my room to be painted and furnished in pink.  She hand-made everything from my swaddling clothes to my little-girl sun dresses, she made all of it and she made all of it in very girly pink. As if that wasn’t enough, she spent night and day for the whole nine months petting and whispering to me about all the wonderful girly things we were going to do together. She even gave me a baby girl name, Anne Marie.

My father said she was never happier than when she was carrying me in her warm, loving womb. She counted the weeks, then the days, then the hours until she could finally hold her miracle baby girl in her arms at last. Pop said you had to see it to believe the look of absolute astonishment on her face the first time my mother saw me. She was shocked—for a split second. And just like that, she forgot all about little Anne Marie, and from then on through thick and thin, I was, as she liked to say, the sun and the moon and all the stars—I was the center of her universe. We loved each other so much that, being Irish, we had constant squabbles and minor conflict, and when my poor father tried to be a peacemaker, all he did was get us both mad and have us both tell him to mind his own business.

I was always a good little kid, quiet, gentle, and well-behaved. I didn’t play with dolls or anything like that, what I would do is be up in my big sister’s room, trying on her clothes while she tried to do her homework. To this day my sister is the one who knows (almost) everything, the one I turn to for advice in times of need. My big sister was so cool, she just loved and accepted and understood me. We would talk about everything, and she never said a word to anybody. All she ever asked was that I not ruin her clothes because she still needed them. For many, many years my gender confusion was our little secret, and through all those lonely years in the closet, I always knew I could count on her—no matter what.

Rosemary appreciates what this [TGH] is doing for me, this new level of awareness and self-acceptance I have. She sees you are my friends and sisters, that we share this wonderful safe place that has been created and nurtured for us by some of our sisters out of love and respect for us, how very much this community and all of you are doing for me and how much it means to me that you do.

My mother’s love for little Anne Marie didn’t change me, I was made this way, but being treated like her precious little baby girl, that much, for that long, sure didn’t hurt. I didn’t have to understand the actual words she was saying or what those words meant, to feel the love behind them.

Being part of this community is the gift that keeps on giving. I have never felt so comfortable in my own skin, so centered and able to understand why I am who I am, so proud and happy to share this magical time and place with all of you. I am your friend and sister always.

With much love and respect,

Sara (Sarafina Caliente-Fabulosa)

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Sarafina (sara)

I remember dressing as far back as I remember anything. I know I was doing it before I started grade school. My thoughts and hopes and dreams, my feelings and emotions, my view of life and love and the universe have always been very feminine. Some of my fondest childhood memories are of talking, with the innocence of a child, to my older sister about girl stuff. We have always been very close, and if she left a skirt or sweater oh her bed, which she often did, I would just try it on and put it back. My parents thought it was just a phase I would grow out of, but my sister knew better. She still knows more about me then anybody, and she is still the one I turn to in times of need. We would talk in the privacy of her room. I was too young to remember a lot of details, just that she would let try on some of her things while she did homework, and that she would tell me how people can be anything they want, that it's ok to be different, and to remember that i am her baby brother and I can always talk to her about anything. My parents and family loved me, but she knew me, she did so much for me and all she ever asked was that I be careful with her things because she still needed them. My sister never said a single word about any of this to my parents or anybody. It was always our little secret, and today there is only other one person who knows (almost) everything about me - her wife. I always wondered why I wasn't born with my female body, and If I ever had a wish it would have been that. I would still make that trade today, even at the age of 71, for the chance to finally be complete. I like seeing how my recent photos reveal how my confidence and pride have grown so much in the short time that I have been here. This is proving to be the perfect time and place for me to thrive, as a member of this loving, nurturing community. I have come to view the complexity of the human mind and the strength of the human spirit with wonder. We certainly have our flaws and frailties, but we do a lot of good things. We never stop trying, our reach always exceeds our grasp, we always hope and dream that we can make the world a better place, that anything is possible. Knowing you are a female in a male body is the proverbial mystery inside an enigma. Gender is magical, mystical, surreal - in contrast to the black and white of the two sexes, gender is a technicolor tapestry. I used to try to somehow reduce gender to some simplest terms and understand it, but now I feel it would be a mistake to remove the mystique, which to me is the essence and the best part of the whole thing . The bottom line is when it comes to gender, the more I learn, the less I know - and I'm fine with that. There are plenty of other things to be sure about - the sun rises in the east, spring follows winter, Mother Nature made little green apples, and for you and me, this is the happiest place on earth. And I also know this - I am proud and I am happy and call me sarandrogenous, I like it here and I love and respect each and every one of you. your friend and sister, Sarafina Caliente e Fabulosa

Latest posts by Sarafina (sara) (see all)

• Mouth Breeding - January 13, 2025
• Little Anne Marie - January 8, 2025