Mum was having some sort of breakdown.
It was the only explanation for what she'd just
said.
Cheryl... love... what
do you think?'
I didn't know what I thought. My mother had
just told me that she wanted to be a man. That
she was 'trapped in the wrong body'.
'I'm not joking, Cheryl. I should've been
born a man,' she said, tears welling up in her
eyes.
A man? But look at her... she had
waist-length hair, she was a woman she'd had a
baby for God's sake. Me! It was impossible. But
I could see Mum looking at me, tears in her
eyes, waiting for an answer.
'How long have you felt like this?' I had to
say something.
'I've known since I was little,' she said,
calmly. 'I've decided I want a sex change.'
Yet she'd waited till I was 25 to tell me! I
felt my stomach tighten. I mean, what was I
supposed to think? My own mother casually
mentioning that she'd like to be my dad! Perhaps
she was having some kind of midlife crisis - but
most women having that kind of thing had flings
with toyboys, not dreams of sex changes.
Mum stared into my eyes. Hers were wide with
fear like a frightened rabbit. She waited,
nervously, for my reaction, desperately wanting
my approval. I hugged her because I knew that
was what she wanted. But inside my head, a
million ideas were buzzing around. I felt like
crying. I felt like running to my mum and
telling her about this awful thing happening to
me as I always had done before. I tried to come
up with excuses why she shouldn't go through
with it.
'What about your arthritis, your MS and you
high blood pressure. How are you going to cope
with surgery?' l asked.
Mum had been registered disabled for years,
hadn't worked since I was a baby. Surely her
body wouldn't be able to stand it.
'I'll be fine. It's either a operation or
I'll go insane she said. 'I need your support,
Cheryl. I don't know what I'll do without
it.'
This was the biggest decision of her life,
and all she cared about was how I was going to
take it. And it was her life, not mine. No
matter how weird it was, I had to support her. I
leaned forward and put my arms around her.
'Mum. Whatever you choose to do is alright
with me,' I said.
This just made her cry even harder. Years of
suppressed emotions came flooding out.
Later, on the way home, I racked my brain,
wondering whether there'd ever been any
clues.
OK, she'd never been a very girly mum. Never
worn dresses or baked cakes. Never had a
boyfriend - after my dad left us when I was 1.
I'd put that down to a broken heart. How wrong
can you be?
I needed to speak to my boyfriend, Sean. Oh,
my God! What would he think? He might be
disgusted and not want anything more to do with
me. It took nearly as much guts for me to tell
him as for Mum to tell me. But I shouldn't have
doubted him. He was really understanding.
'Look,' he said. 'Whatever happens, she's
still the same person inside. She'll still be
your mum.'
Except that she wouldn't be, would she? Would
I have to call her 'Dad'? It was too freaky to
think about. Would her personality change, too?
I didn't want that. I only wanted the mum I knew
and loved.
A few days later, Mum phoned me.
I've decided to go to
counselling,' she said. 'It's the first step to
becoming a man.
'I can't do it on my
own. I want you to come to the sessions with me.
I need you to understand why I'm doing
this.'
She was so determined. And if she didn't have
me by her side, who could she count on? So I
agreed to go with her. The counsellor asked Mum
about her childhood.
When I was growing up,
I just assumed I'd grow a willy one day, like
all the other little boys,' Mum said.
I was shocked.
All her life she'd had to hide her true
feelings and pretend to be a woman. That
included marrying Dad. Having sex and hating
every minute of it. Then having me.
'You were the one good thing to come out of
that relationship,' she said, with tears in her
eyes.
Then, when Dad left, she said she dreamed
about having her breasts and womb removed, and
having a penis constructed. I couldn't believe
all this was coming out of my mother's
mouth.
'I couldn't go through with it,' she said. 'I
was scared you'd be taken away from me. So I put
on a brave face and got on with it.'
Imagining her torment for all those years
made me so sad. The way she'd turned her back on
her feelings and lived a lie. All for my sake.
So it was the least I could do - forget my fears
and let her live her life for the first
time.
It was still shocking seeing Mum cut off her
long auburn hair. It had been the one feminine
thing about her. And seeing her in a collar and
tie was very strange. It was as if she was in
'dressing up' clothes. She also started calling
herself Mark. That was the hardest part for
me.
I had to keep reminding myself that this was
what she wanted. And my approval meant more to
her than anything.
I know I look
different. But I'll never stop being your mum.
You don't even have to stop calling me Mum,' she
said.
She started having male-hormone injections,
which made her grow facial hair and her voice
deepen. My mum had a beard! The first time I saw
her shaving I did a double take. It didn't look
like her at all. I had to keep telling myself
that she was the same person underneath.
Just because I accepted it didn't mean others
did. Walking in public was difficult, people
stared and pointed. She was brilliant, ignored
them. Gradually, the rest of the family were
told. They were shocked, but they all rallied
round and supported her. Then she got the date
through for the first part of her sex-change
operation - a double mastectomy. OK, I knew how
it would change her body, but I was scared that
it would change her personality, too.
When the day of the operation came, I drove
her to the hospital. She was bursting with
excitement.
At last, I'm, going to
be me,' she beamed.
The operation was a success and within two
weeks she was back at was home. As her wounds
healed her confidence grew. But the true test
came when she faced the rest of the family.
We went to a wedding and met distant
relatives who hadn't been told. She wore a top
hat and tails and everyone gawped. It was
exactly what I'd been dreading. I had to explain
it all.
One person asked me if she'd had a breakdown.
Another asked if Mum would be invited to other
family gatherings considering 'what she looked
like'. Some, who'd known her as a woman couldn't
believe it was the same person. And people who
didn't know my mum thought she was my dad, which
was a bit weird.
Mum took it all in her stride, but I was
really hurt. She was just Mum as far as I was
concerned. Why couldn't they accept that? Then,
at another family do, Mum was introduced to
someone as my dad. I didn't say anything, but I
was furious. I don't want her to be associated
with my dad who'd deserted us. Now I tell people
to introduce her as my 'guardian'. It's less
confusing and doesn't cause embarrassment. The
next step for Mum is to have a hysterectomy and
then a penis constructed.
I can't say it's been easy, watching my mum
change physically into a man. But I feel a
stronger person, able to overcome my prejudices.
And see that the person inside is still the
same.
Mum has been through so much, and still has
to go through more, but she says it's worth the
pain and trauma to become a fully-fledged man.
It's what she's wanted all her life.
Mum or Mark, or whatever, is still kind,
caring, funny and loves me. And our relationship
is still the same. She still comes round for a
coffee and a chat. We still go shopping on
Saturdays. And I just want to let her know that
she's still my mum and I love her. And nothing
will change that.
Mark Andrews, age 52, says,
Telling Cheryl the
truth was the hardest thing I've ever had to do.
I knew it would be hard for her to understand
and accept. She was also hurt that I hadn't told
her before. But I felt I had to keep it quiet
because I was I petrified I might lose
her.
For a while, things between us were tough.
Cheryl felt threatened by the whole thing. But,
once she realised how important it was to me,
she came round. I couldn't have gone through it
without her help and support. It really brought
us closer together."
