Several years ago, in the heart of the time when our first twin had started going by a different name at school, our whole family was in a kind of silent crisis. Our oldest was out of the house, so he was dealing with his own challenges, but the rest of us were struggling together: living side by side, attempting peaceful relations on the surface, an unstable undercurrent of tension and pain lying just beneath. Most of the time we enjoyed one another’s company, laughing at meal times, playing games and watching movies, and going about our individual responsibilities. It didn’t take much, though, for that stress to breach the calm facade. Tears ready to spill, injured feelings just waiting to reappear. It was a fitful peace.

During those years, our marriage was strained. We didn’t see eye to eye. We were each dealing with personal struggles and unique approaches to this uncharted journey. We weren’t playing well as a team. My husband expressed his fear that our whole family was going to be torn apart. He was afraid of losing our kids, or losing me, or losing all of us completely.

We persevered. College visits completed. High school graduation came and went. There was peace, but there was always distance between us – all of us. We couldn’t see each other clearly because each of us was looking through a lens clouded by our own pain, vulnerability, and unmet needs. Explosions of emotion burst out sporadically, spewing hurt and anxiety, followed by sorrow and regret and self-recrimination.

Our first few months of empty-nesting were like learning to breathe again. Still dealing with both pain and hope regarding our first transgender twin, we were just happy to have some space to not confront those emotions daily. We were enjoying time together without anyone else constantly present or needing something. Though still not in agreement, we were more able to exist at peace with each other because the stress level had decreased with only two of us interacting on a day-to-day basis.

Three months into freshman year was when our second twin made his announcement through a letter proffered to us during one of his every two-to-three week visits home on a weekend. New stress. New conflicts. New pain. New sadness. New questions.

Raw with emotion, we sought support through a faith topics Meetup group, since we had recently left our church of the past seven years and hadn’t found a new faith community to call home. What acceptance we received! It wasn’t a perfect place, but the atmosphere was one of openness. Diverse people attended. At first just speaking about our frustrations with God and church, eventually we shared our family’s story. We received no judgement. It felt safe. Such a good starting point for a new life chapter.

One year ago now, I began the earnest questioning of all of my life’s components. It began with questions about gender, but grew into consideration of values, faith, and marriage. I stepped back to see things from a wider perspective, outside of the boxes from which I had always started.

Vulnerabilities in our marriage and relationship were exposed. Unhealthy habits created over many years came to light. We had always been good together, but at our very core, neither of us felt entirely safe or affirmed by the other. As I was trying to come to terms with losing my daughters and the subsequent stripping away of the certainty of my belief system, I was inventorying what remained for me and my future. My marriage. It was good. But if that was all I had of the dreams and plans I had imagined for my life, was that enough? I didn’t want good. I wanted great. Could we get there? It would require some of the biggest conflicts, longest conversations, and deepest interactions that we’d ever had.

Now we are a year and a half into the twins’ college experience, past the revelation of our second twin’s transgender identification, and into a new and amazing phase of our marriage and family. So much has changed, but it hasn’t been simple or quick.

Through our commitment to each other, with the support of counseling, and a willingness to put it all on the table, we’re now doing better than ever. We’re doing even better than before this current family crisis of gender began almost six years ago. Both of us have been willing to open our eyes to the other in new ways, giving each other freedom to be more authentic, and being open to the false ways of viewing each other and marriage in general that had been in place before.

We spontaneously renewed our wedding vows while climbing Dunn’s River Falls in Jamaica this past October with the help of our Jamaican guide, Philip. As we held hands and fell backwards into a deep pool about halfway up the falls, Philip said we would fall in love all over again. He blessed us with health, prosperity, and long life after we reemerged.

Life is a gift. Marriage is a gift. Family is a gift. None of them are meant to be perfect. All of them are meant to be experienced for all that they are. None of them are easy. None of them have guaranteed outcomes. What you do with them is what you choose, and you can only choose for yourself, not the other participants.

When I began my blog a year ago, I wasn’t sure where that process would take me. A few months passed that included so much information and learning, but I began to realize that all my growth and understanding was not going to bring about any changes in anyone other than me. Despite how much I figured out, I had no sway to pull anyone along with me, including my twins. As I wrap up the year, I have concluded that no matter what discoveries I’ve made along the way, I know where I want to end up.

I don’t want to be sad. I don’t want there to be an asterisk next to my happiness about my children’s accomplishments, denoting that I’m mostly happy but the results are tainted in some way (like in the baseball record books next to a player who holds a record but perhaps due to some controversial situation). I want to embrace my family as it exists. I believe that is how God engages with us.

My immediate family includes my husband and me, our oldest and his girlfriend, our transgender twins, and two chihuahua mix dogs. We are a family with messes and drama. We have inside jokes and stories. We don’t see eye to eye. We cause each other pain sometimes. But we are building a safer place for each of us to exist. No matter what I think about my children’s choices, I will fight for their right to make those choices. I will enjoy their company. I will always hug them goodnight when we are together. I will celebrate their victories. I will empathize with them in their defeats. We are a family. That will never change.

I am thankful for my family of origin as well. Though I have uncovered pain and injury from some childhood events and beliefs, the family from which I come is still pretty cool. No one comes from a family where there are no issues. I’m grateful that my siblings and their spouses and children still make effort to connect with each other and me and my family. They are walking with me through our journey. We don’t agree on all things, but we do care about and value each other. We are a family. That will never change.

Outside of the blood relationships that define my familial ties, there is a bigger family of which I am privileged to be a part. These are the people who have done life together with us, day by day, side by side. There are new friends that have embraced and supported us through days of anguish and exploration, accepting us and our kids with no questions asked. They have challenged my thinking and pushed me to new and broader perspectives. They have affirmed me and helped me accept myself. There are coworkers who have known when to reach out and say something, and when to step back and not push. There are longtime friends from the many places we’ve lived over the years who have come out of the woodwork to provide encouragement and surprise me with their welcoming attitudes and admiration for our willingness to speak our truths, both me and my children.

To our friends and coworkers, thank you. I’m so glad we have been willing to be real and raw. It has opened a door through which we have received unexpected inspiration.

To our families of origin, thank you. You’ve allowed us to challenge the status quo and have not abandoned us. This is not easy for you either, and yet you keep showing up, willing to keep loving and learning with us.

To my oldest and his girlfriend, thank you. You guys are amazing. I’m so glad you have each other, and that each of our families benefit by you being together. You have helped me to grow and accept.

To my twins, thank you. I love you more than words can say. You both are maturing and developing in so many cool ways. I will always be here for you, no matter what. I’m not all that you ever needed, but I’ll give you what I have to the best of my ability.

To my husband, thank you most of all. I love the stable moments. I love the crazy moments. I’m thankful that we’ve reached the beginning of great.

We are all family. That will never change, and that makes me happy.