Who would have thought that a huge tragedy where I almost lost my son would lead to actually losing him?
My son was hit by a car when he was two and a half. He was strapped into his stroller, on the way back from a walk through the park with his babysitter, when a car turned right on red and struck the two of them in a crosswalk. The babysitter broke a few ribs and her arm. My son, still in his stroller, slid across the asphalt, skinning his face. It was a close call and, at the hospital, the doctors confirmed he had escaped with no physical harm beyond the face lacerations. But the experience left us all traumatized, especially him. He never left my lap that night, and he wouldn’t sleep in his own bed for a year, and I have always sensed that that trauma stuck with him, deep in his psyche.
He received a settlement from the insurance company for a considerable amount of money, which I squirreled away from him until he turned 18. At the time I thought he could use that money to buy a car or for college.
At 15, my son announced he was transgender after showing no signs of gender confusion as a child. He is now 18 and still fully believes in this ideology. We truly thought he would outgrow it since he had been showing signs of desistance for years, and no outward signs of being “trans”. But then he turned 18 and everything changed.
Guess what was waiting for him when he turned 18? The insurance money. He quickly started gathering documents and became very secretive. He’d been waiting and planning. He took the money, and he left. He left his parents who love him more than anything in this world, the only house he has ever known, and two pets he adored. We don’t know where he is and have not heard from him. We had always been close and I thought love would win. But I was wrong. The outside influences are too strong.
My son was almost taken from me at 2 and 1/2. I got 15 1/2 years back and for that I am thankful, but in the end, I lost him nonetheless.
