Why 18 is not just a number for Mitch!

Eighteen years ago, my wife and I were blessed to bring our first and only Texan into this world. In our hearts the whole Paul family consider ourselves Texans but if you stop and ask, the first step in being a REAL Texan is being born here. 

I moved my young family to Austin in October of 2000 where we migrated from Southern California. I was looking for something that was not readily available for a recent college graduate, husband and father of three daughters. I was searching for a bit of an adventure but more importantly a place Nickole and I could raise our daughters, a place we could make our own, a place with hope.

Nickole, my wife of nearly 28 years and I met when we were fourteen years old. I didn’t know then but that decision by her mom would shape the rest of my life. Norma, Kimmie, Nickole and of course their cat muffin all moved into the three-bedroom home right across the street on Belmont Avenue in West Covina California.

Nickole is the love of my life and the rock of our family. We left all our friends, family and support system back in California when we decided to move. From now on, it was just the five of us, Mom, Dad, Brianna, Madison and Bailey. We moved our family from a cramped two-bedroom townhome to a three-bedroom house with a great backyard with lots of room for all my girls to spread their wings.   Our daughters were born close to each other in 1995, 1996 and 1998. Some folks thought we were crazy but to be honest having three kids was just always our plan. Having them close was also part of this plan as Nickole wanted to make sure they had built in playmates. My logic was bit different, I am one of five kids and knew I wanted a busy, loud home. I am truly unhappy in a quiet home and filling my home with the pitter patter of small feet and laughter was my driving force. I guess if I’m being honest, I also wanted my kids close together while I was young so I could get to spend more time with Nickole, my best friend after they were grown. I’ve always had these ideas that when they grew up, we will be able to travel the world together. The third part of our life-long love.

It was 2002 and Bailey our youngest daughter was on the cusp of a major milestone, entrance into Kindergarten. One afternoon, I was talking with Nickole and asked what her plans were when Bailey went off to school. I remember saying “have you thought about a job or even going back to school?” Nickole changes the subject a bit and says “no, I haven’t thought much about it, give me a few days and let’s chat again later.” Well later tuned into about a month, so I bring up the subject again. This time, she says, “ I been meaning to talk with you about it but it’s been so busy, I think I want another baby.” I immediately say a fourth baby is nowhere in our three children plan.  It’s my suspicion Nickole had been preparing for this conversation for the whole month but to this day she still doesn’t admit to it.   She had all kinds of great arguments including we now have more space; Texas is a better place to raise children and we could afford for her to say home with another baby. Frankly, none of it was making much progress, I even thought I had won the debate when she pulled out one last point, “It could be a boy”. I don’t remember much after that, but needless to say we had another baby in February of 2003 just a few months before Bailey started Kindergarten.

I know this seems like a strange set up to talk about my son but it’s so important to understand a bit about where Mitch comes from. He comes from a typical American family, whatever that means these days but at the core a family that believes in god, a family that believes in hope, a family that helps each other and most importantly a family who believes in the power of UNCONDITIONAL LOVE.

By all internal and external accounts Megan was a happy heathy girl. She had a few close friends at school, loved games, stuffed animals, sports and had three older sisters to look up to. Since she was five years younger than Bailey our home was much different as the age gap was big enough that there was not much in common with Megan and her older three sisters. As such, they often took on a role of big sister not play mate. In some respects, raising Megan was more like an only child as her interests were not shared by her big sisters.

While she was younger, it didn’t stop her from wanting to be in the middle of everything her big sisters did and she held a very special place in Nickole and my hearts as the baby and last child to be born into the family. In fact, it was my mom who had to eventually tell us Megan was too big for the booster seat in the car. Her legs were hanging almost to the floor but Nickole and I just didn’t want to see that our little baby was starting to grow up.

Fast forward to Fall of 2014, the family is in two separate vehicles moving our oldest daughter Bree back to North Texas for her 2nd year in college. Megan’s in the other car with her sisters and Nickole and I are together in my new 2013 Ford F150 filled up with everything a college sophomore could possibly need. Nickole and I have always enjoyed long car drives together. It gave us a good opportunity to catch up and check in with each other, so I didn’t think anything more of the driving arrangements when she suggested all the kids drive with Brianna.  We were about halfway through our nearly four-hour trip to Denton when Nickole asked me. Matt, do you know what transgender is?  I honestly don’t remember a lot of the specifics about the conversation after that, but I remember my feelings. I was confused, I was scared, I was angry, I was worried and frankly in some sort of disbelief. I kept thinking about trans dressers for some stupid reason and over the last year, I had aligned in my head that Megan was different perhaps gay as she had gone through some tough times in regards to how she wanted her hair cut and the type clothes she wanted wear. I had less than an hour to try to piece some of this together and figure out what I wanted to say to my daughter once we got to Denton.

When we got to Denton my mind still didn’t know what to do so I did what I had done many times before in my life and that was let my heart lead me. I got out of my truck, went over to Megan, gave her a giant hug, told her I loved her and reassured her that a everything would be ok even know I didn’t have a clue to how to make that happen. My daughter was 11 years old and nothing would be the same ever again. 

I kept telling myself, It’s just a phase, she’s too young to understand what she wants and she'll grow out of it. Even after I read Darlene Tando’s book on Gender Identity and Brill and Pepper’s book the transgender child I couldn't accept what was happening right in front of me.  I now had more knowledge on the subject but was still in disbelief that this could happen to Megan and our family.  Megan was dealing with depression with what I know now as gender dysmorphia. We had immediately taken her to a Psychiatrist after she came out to us as transgender and he prescribed her some anti-depressants. For the most, part I put my head in a hole and hoped the weekly counselor visits could fix what was wrong and the anti-depressant would make things easier.

The first time Megan tried to kill herself she took about half a bottle of her anti-depressants and went to bed. When she woke up in the morning, she realized it didn’t work and went to her mom to tell he what she did. Nickole told me what happened later that day and it was almost unbelievable.  We reached out to the her doctor who talked with her and judged there was no immediate danger then advised us to get with our counselor, lock up the meds and give out her dose every night. Even though we raised three other children nothing prepared us for supporting a child with this level of depression.   We dutifully followed the doctor’s orders until almost two months later she tried again this time with the full bottle after finding them from where we were hiding them. We almost started the same pattern of calling the doctor and falling back into a sense of normalcy, but I had a strong feeling I would not get a 3rd chance if she tried this again. For the first time in our lives, my wife and I had to come to terms that we couldn’t protect our child.   I was so scared that I’d wake up next time and she wouldn’t be here. As a result, we immediately started calling our insurance providers and found a full time, live in clinic for adolescents and teens to see if we could get Megan the help she needed. My heart broke as we checked her into this cold facility that seemed the exact opposite of what we created in our own warm loving home. On the drive home I finally came to a realization. Do I want to live in a world where my youngest child no longer existed? I knew right then I would have to commit 100% to my son Mitch. I wasn’t sure what that meant but I knew I wanted nothing to do with the alternative. Having my child here with me was the only answer, everything else was secondary. I do think god directed me on this day to both get the help we needed and start to accept what was right in front of me. I followed my heart by choosing life and choosing love for my son.

Learning more about his crippling gender dysmorphia was very difficult as a parent. He wrapped or taped his chest every day to the point where his back and ribs would hurt and he had to give up things he loved doing athletically because he had trouble breathing when he ran. To make things worse, every month he was reminded of his womanhood so even when things were going well it was only a couple weeks where he was struggling again.  I know this next part may get folks upset but after seeing an excellent transgender specialist at Scott and White in Killeen Texas we decided to put Mitch on Testosterone. This was another almost impossible decision, but the gender dysmorphia was crippling and a side effect for starting T would be he’d no longer have monthly periods. This decision allowed Mitch for the first time to start to grow and accept who he was and start to think about what his future could be.  

Fast forward another year and I am squeezing the hand of my best friend, my wife while standing in front of a Williamson county judge asking for permission to change my son's legal name from Megan Elizabeth Paul to Mitchell Thomas Paul. With a copy of the court order in hand and it officially filed with the state of Texas Nickole and I walked from the courtroom to our car without saying a word. I opened her car door helped her in then went around the back of my truck, the same truck I heard the word transgender for the first time with tears starting to roll down my face I quickly jumped into the cab. There side by side sat to two parents both mourning the death of their daughter and at the same time celebrating the birth of their son knowing despite all the pain we chose LIFE, we chose LOVE.  

As we move to Mitch’s 17th year he is doing for the most part pretty well. He has ups and downs with a boyfriend, school, part time job and friend groups just like any other teenager.  It’s at this time he approaches us with request for top surgery. (Double Mastectomy) While things may seem in control, gender dysmorphia is always right under the surface and I expect it is something Mitch will have to deal with his whole life. The breasts were a constant reminder of someone he no longer was. He had a thoughtful articulate argument and was able to seal the deal with both of us when he started talking about his future. He was able to see a long term and wanted to start to to lay out a plan. When he went to college he wanted to be completely healed and ready to start the next phase of his life. On March 18 2020 Mitch had his top surgery in Houston Texas. 

Last night we celebrated Mitchell’s 18th birthday. One if his favorite foods is Chinese and on this birthday, he wanted pork dumplings. After our early dinner, cake and opening of the presents this remarkable young man stood in front of our fireplace and gathered everyone’s attention. He went around the room explaining how each of us had an impact on his life and helped him in one way or another through his struggles. As he got to Nickole and I he started to break up, after about a minute he composed himself and finished his heartfelt words. I’m not going to share those details now they are just too fresh but there is one part that I must share and why I chose to write this open letter. 

With tears in his eyes Mitchell was saying 18 is such a big deal to him. He remembers being 14 thinking there was no way he was going to make it 16 never mind 18. It was his hard work, our family’s love and acceptance of him, his doctors, his therapists, his medication and his friends that helped him get here. 

My son Mitchell Thomas Paul chose LIFE, he chose LOVE!

Suicide is such a huge issue for the Transgender adolescent community. I don’t pretend to have all the answers or be na?ve enough to think love fixes everything but acceptance and knowing each person has a safe place where they belong can make a difference. Suicide attempt rates among transgender adolescents is as much as five times higher than Cisgender adolescents.   If you are a parent of a transgender child stay engaged, create a loving safe environment, keep the lines of communication open and last but not least don’t be afraid to ask for help.

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