Little Anne Marie

As much as my father loved me, I was always the apple of my mother’s eye. She called me her miracle baby because she didn’t think she could have me—my sister is 11 years older than me and my brother 10. Then, at the tender age of 44, my mother decided she wanted a third child. My father told me she never wanted anything like she wanted to have me, but it looked like it just wasn’t going to happen. So, being old school Irish Catholic near the end of the year 1952, and being like a character straight out of Going My Way, ‘me sainted Irish Mudder’ made a novena to the virgin Mary, grantor of the impossible wish, and just to be safe, she made another novena to Saint Jude, the patron saint of lost causes. Knowing Catherine Downey like I do, she probably invoked Jeremiah 1:5, Psalm 139, and to cover all her bases prayed to the Hindu Gods KamaDevi, Shiva and Parvati, Radna and Krishna. No child could ever have been more wanted than this one.

In her 70s my mother was stricken by what we thought was cancer when she lost so much weight unintentionally, but it turned out that she had a rare and terminal condition known as Sarcoidosis. She was strong and brave in spirit and at the end she was in her home, surrounded by her family, when she just slipped away peacefully in my loving arms, which everybody said was how she would want it to be. As the family reminisced, I learned for the first time about some interesting details regarding my birth, things that help explain a lot of the reason I am the girl I am, and always was.

My mother believed in miracles, and since she got her first one by getting pregnant, she counted on the second: to have a baby girl. She was so sure that she planned for my crib and my room to be painted and furnished in pink.  She hand-made everything from my swaddling clothes to my little-girl sun dresses, she made all of it and she made all of it in very girly pink. As if that wasn’t enough, she spent night and day for the whole nine months petting and whispering to me about all the wonderful girly things we were going to do together. She even gave me a baby girl name, Anne Marie.

My father said she was never happier than when she was carrying me in her warm, loving womb. She counted the weeks, then the days, then the hours until she could finally hold her miracle baby girl in her arms at last. Pop said you had to see it to believe the look of absolute astonishment on her face the first time my mother saw me. She was shocked—for a split second. And just liked that, she forgot all about little Anne Marie, and from then on through thick and thin, I was, as she liked to say, the sun and the moon and all the stars—I was the center of her universe. We loved each other so much that, being Irish, we had constant squabbles and minor conflict, and when my poor father tried to be peacemaker, all he did was get us both mad and have us both tell him to mind his own business.

I was always a good little kid, quiet and gentle and well-behaved. I didn’t play with dolls or anything like that, what I would do is be up in my big sister’s room, trying on her clothes while she tried to do her homework. To this day my sister is the one who knows (almost) everything, the one I turn to for advice in times of need. My big sister was so cool, she just loved and accepted and understood me. We would talk about everything, and she never said a word to anybody. All she ever asked was that I not ruin her clothes because she still needed them. For many, many years my gender confusion was our little secret, and through all those lonely years in the closet, I always knew I could count on her—no matter what.

Rosemary appreciates what this [CDH] is doing for me, this new level of awareness and self-acceptance I have. She sees you are my friends and sisters, that we share this wonderful safe place that has been created and nurtured for us by some of our sisters out of love and respect for us, how very much this community and all of you are doing for me and how much it means to me that you do.

My mother’s love for little Anne Marie didn’t change me, I was made this way, but being treated like her precious little baby girl, that much, for that long, sure didn’t hurt. I didn’t have to understand the actual words she was saying or what those words meant, to feel the love behind them.

Being part of this community is the gift that keeps on giving. I have never felt so comfortable in my own skin, so centered and able to understand why I am who I am, so proud and happy to share this magical time and place with all of you. I am your friend and sister always.

With much love and respect,

Sara (Sarafina Caliente-Fabulosa)

Subscribe To Our Newsletter

Join our mailing list to receive the latest news and articles from Crossdresser Heaven.

SUBSCRIBE!

You have Successfully Subscribed!

We hate spam too, unsubscribe at any time.