In August 2017, my husband and I became empty nesters. It was a time which we had looked forward to throughout our 21 years of parenting. Now it was here, and it was so freeing to have only the two of us to consider when deciding when and where to eat, what to watch on television, when to go to bed, and on and on. It was a fresh start.

The freedom was tinged with some apprehension since we knew that our youngest twin was beginning their college life by fully identifying as FtM (female to male) transgender and starting on testosterone. But we knew he was in a safe place and that the past five years had brought us to this point. We had to trust that we had raised him well and that he would develop into a responsible and capable decision-maker, whether or not we agreed with the choices and conclusions.

Our oldest child had left home three years earlier and had been through some challenges, but he was growing and giving us hope that time passing can bring about new insights into life, maturity, and the wisdom one’s folks might actually have to contribute. Other parents we knew said we should be thankful that he still wanted to be in communication with us, even though we didn’t always agree. That said something about the strength of our bond. We agreed and were thankful.

After moving both twins into their respective dorms, we felt our independence and anticipated the year ahead. In addition to our empty-nesting hopes and dreams, I was excited to build a new, grown-up connection with the twin who had stayed in state for college. Because our oldest was still finding his path (never learning things the easy way) and our youngest was pursuing gender transition, my hope for this relationship was especially strong. There was such potential, and we had never seemed to have the conflict that I had with the other two children. I felt that if any of our three children would benefit from being close to home, it was this one. Little did I expect the coming turn of events.

There was a hint of the change coming just prior to heading off for college drop-off when our in-state twin let us know that they had never liked their name, a traditional female name. She let us know she was going to go by a different name when college began. It was a name that was used by both male and female, and she was choosing a spelling that was more female. We weren’t excited about the choice, but as with so many things – clothes, hairstyles, interests – it wasn’t a hill worth dying on. I asked if there was anything more they needed to tell us. I was assured it was just a name thing.

I suppose we shouldn’t have been surprised when during a weekend visit home in November, she gave us a handwritten note that expressed her identification as transgender just like her twin. But we were blind-sided. This was out of the blue.

With our out-of-state twin, we had been taken off-guard and didn’t know how to handle things, but we weren’t entirely surprised. Their life prior to that identification included many moments that, when added together, helped make sense of their experience. They fit the “insistent, consistent, persistent” descriptors for gender dysphoria.

Our in-state twin didn’t have any of those indicators from their years of growing up, at least not in any obvious ways to our awareness. She had never really shied away from wearing dresses. She enjoyed playing with dolls (and Legos and guns). She had never verbally expressed a dissatisfaction with being a girl.

In high school, she could rock a pair of 4-inch sparkly high heels, mastered the art of Dutch-braiding her own hair, and asked for a gold, sequined dress for prom.

Now, just six months later, she was identifying as male and starting testosterone through campus health. No conversation. No discussion. No seeking counsel. Just an announcement through a letter.

My hopes for growing our newfound grown-up relationship were crushed. It felt like I had finally been starting to come to grips with the reality of the situation with our other twin. I had returned to standing after being tossed around for five years. Now the rug was abruptly pulled out from under my feet again, and I was lying on the ground with the wind knocked out of me.

Here was our second chance to handle this announcement. Would we do it better? Had we learned anything from the past five years?

I think we did the best that we could, and it was better and different from the past. But it was still short of ideal, and hurt and conflict were present.

Eight more months have passed. We have maintained peace. We have continued financial and personal support for college. We have gone out to eat, played games, and watched movies together. Life has continued. On the surface, we are at peace. Underneath, there’s tension. We don’t understand. There is fresh pain.

Our empty nest became a little less empty in May when this twin came home for summer break. It is the three of us for a few more weeks until sophomore year begins. I was uneasy about the homecoming in May, and it has held an underlying strain these weeks so far. There has also been the forming of new bonds, the start to healing both recent and past wounds, and new humility in relating with one another.

There is loss. There is love. There is unease. There is hope. This moment in time holds all of these in equal portion. I’m no longer frantically lost, I just feel very small. I think I’m on the right track.

“The steps you take don’t need to be big, they just need to take you in the right direction.” – Agents of Shield