As an optimist, I entered this year of writing with an unspoken hope that my research and transparency would impact the choices of my twins, causing them to rethink their decisions and prevent them from undergoing permanent changes. In a way, I was still striving after something, but quietly, the undercurrent beneath the surface. I hoped for a miracle of enlightenment that would alter their courses.

Answering the question of causation was one area I thought would be worth studying that might provide impetus for them to slow down and contemplate their options. Understanding why things happen has always been important to me, in part because I believe it helps one figure out how to respond and implement the best solutions. It has been difficult for me to comprehend that some people don’t seem to care as much about why.

All that my research uncovered, however, was theories and ideas, with no one having a solid handle on why individuals experience gender dysphoria. There are some interesting connections and possibilities but nothing concrete.

When conversing with one of the twins this past spring about anxiety as a disorder, we discussed causation. We talked about the difference in people who don’t seek to find out the “why” behind a situation. His response began to help me understand that attitude and approach.

“I think a lot of people don’t really pursue the answer as to why their anxiety started, but also, almost no one really manages to find the answer, so a lot of times it’s not very productive to try to find it. It’s usually better to deal with things that are currently true than to try to figure out where they started.”

Today, I find myself in a similar position regarding my twins’ transgender identification. I still very much care why they have made their decisions and what’s behind the thoughts and emotions that have led them; however, it doesn’t seem productive for me to continue to focus on why, since that answer appears to be elusive at both broad and personal levels.

It is what it is, and we are where we are, and that’s just all there is to it.

Acceptance is what appears to be my best response at this time, both because I don’t have any better answers and because the choices about what to do are not mine to make. I need to deal with the things that are currently true rather than spending my time trying to figure out where they started.

So I prepare for acceptance. Acceptance of my children’s choices. Acceptance of my own emotions. Acceptance of my uncertainties. Acceptance that life is hard. Acceptance that life goes on.

In an article from the June 2018 issue of Reader’s Digest, an older couple, Jim and Geri Taylor, recount their experience with the wife’s diagnosis of Alzheimer’s. She wanted to be vocal about the journey, working to discover ways to cope and to communicate with others about the process.

“They were invited to give a talk about living with Alzheimer’s at a church that Jim’s sister belonged to. They had at first been hesitant. But if it went well, perhaps it was something they could keep doing. Maybe how they were figuring out this disease could help others.”

“Someone else asked, ‘What do you want to hear when you tell someone you have Alzheimer’s?’”

“‘I love you; anything I can do I’ll do,’ said Geri. ‘The acceptance is more important than the particulars.’”

Gender dysphoria is very different from Alzheimer’s, and being the parent of twins who identify as transgender is very different from being a husband-wife team who are coping with the effects of Alzheimer’s in their marriage, but there are some common themes in them as well.

Just like Geri, I think it’s important moving forward that I am open and honest with people in my circles of influence about our story. It’s a real experience that has become much more common and likely will continue to increase in occurrence. I was nearly silent when our first twin came to us five years ago, hesitant to share because of pride as well as fear of judgement and pity. The loneliness and isolation that accompanied the silence were degenerative and debilitating. Telling our story has been cathartic and has opened doors to relationships and support I didn’t realize would exist.

Like the Taylors, my hope is that something in our family’s journey will provide help to someone else out there. I had always thought I would figure out how things worked in life and help show others the way to be successful, but it is in realizing my limitations, lack of certainty, and failures that I think the most good may actually come.

Finally, the response Geri gave to the question, “What do you want to hear…”, is equally appropriate for when you tell someone you have Alzheimer’s, or when you tell someone that you or a family member is transgender.

I love you; anything I can do I’ll do. The acceptance is more important than the particulars.

There are days that I don’t want to be good. I don’t want to be nice. I don’t understand. I don’t want to try hard to understand. I’m just sad. On those days, it’s good to hear, “I love you; anything I can do I’ll do.”

There are days that I feel hopeful and empowered to be resilient, outside-the-box, and accepting of the unknown. On those days, it’s good to hear, “I love you; anything I can do I’ll do.”

This Christmas we’ve been spending time with all of our children, and it’s been so good to be together. There has been a new, peaceful tone. I want to hand out those same words of acceptance to each of them today and each day moving forward, “I love you; anything I can do I’ll do.”