The author had to fix her gender no matter how much it cost. The photo is courtesy of James Bennett.
I was told by the doctor that my eggs would be scrambled. I was 25 years old and anxious to begin my transition from female to male. I was about to have a double mastectomy when I was two months out from surgery. I had to fix my gender even if it cost a lot.
The prospect of taking testosterone made me feel like my contribution to a child in the future wouldn't be possible. Any ability to participate in this process would be destroyed by taking hormones. My greatest fears were confirmed when I sat across from the doctor. Hope was lost unless I froze my eggs. My future wife would have to be inseminated with another person's genetic code. I would never be a father by blood. The alternative was too distressing to think about.
I knew I wouldn't be able to go through the process of retrieving my eggs. I didn't have the resources to make it last much longer. I was holding onto it as it was. Years of battling horrendous gender dysphoria had left me beaten down, and regardless of where I would be in the future, my eggs wouldn't be part of the equation. At a later time, I would be worried about children. If I didn't take care of me, there might be no me at all.
I said farewell to the children I could never have as I received the first needle of testosterone. I barely looked back after all the shots. I watched as my body, mind, and place in society changed. I haven't found a person that would stay with me for the rest of my life.
I grew into my 30's quickly. After many years of adjusting to my new body, I finally found peace. The person I saw in the mirror was the one I had been looking at for a long time.
I found my wife and an invitation to a beautiful future together. After we got married, we went back and forth on the idea of children, but we decided to expand our unit. Having small versions of us would bring more joy than anything else. They couldn't be versions of us because I wasn't involved.
The author and his wife were married on July 31, 2021. The photo is courtesy of James Bennett.
One day, we sat in the kitchen and reviewed our options. I didn't regret not freezing my eggs, but I wanted this picture to look different. I had thought it would be easier than it was.
My wife asked if James was sure he couldn't contribute. I was left speechless by the amount of bricks it hit me. She asked if you've looked into it. I took the next obvious step and began searching for answers.
Two months later, we sat across from a doctor who specialized in fertility for trans people. She said that studies show that fertility outcomes are in line with gender identity. It's believed that elevated testosterone levels place the processes of ovulation and menstruation into slumber.
I squeezed my wife's hand. The prospect didn't feel possible unless it came from the mouth of a health care professional, that's what our online search pointed out. I would have to come off my hormones to get my body back in shape.
The prospect of skipping my weekly shot was frightening after seven years of testosterone. I had worked so hard to get the stability I needed. The doctor said it would take about two months for my testosterone to return to normal, but even one day like my prior state felt like too much.
The chest tightness that I hadn't felt in years was caused by the fear attacking my brain.
Without testosterone, my fat would return to my hips and the dysphoria would follow. I know that I am and always will be a man, even without hormones, but without it, how my body looked and felt, and how I felt about it and in it would change.
I decided that I would try to make the right decision for the rest of my life. If the process became intolerable, I would call it quits. The first few weeks off testosterone were quite boring. I felt a slight increase in fatigue, some pain in my chest, and a clearing of testosterone-driven facial hair. My teenage boy's appetite completely diminished, and I lost five pounds in a single night.
My demeanor was calmer and I regained my ability to do multiple things at the same time. The shift wasn't remarkable enough to stop the baby-driven science experiment.
Two weeks shy of the doctor's estimation, my testosterone levels had plummeted into the range of a typical cis gender woman. The daunting task of actually starting the "reciprocal IVF" cycle consumed any emotional capacity I had left.
My plan was to get my eggs back, fertilize them with donor sperm and have at least three healthy embryos. We would hope to have a baby with the doctor implanting an embryo. My egg and my wife's body would be used to grow our child. We were going to wash and repeat for baby number two if everything went well.
Many cis gender women know that the IVF cycle is not enjoyable. I had to endure two weeks of self-administered injections into my stomach and an increase in my sense of bloat. Being the only male patient in an all-female fertility clinic made me feel uncomfortable.
The anxiety of the upcoming egg retrieval was almost impossible to manage on the day of the Trigger. I don't know if I went through all of this for free.
I was hoping for the best as I was drifting off into anesthesia. This had all gone well, a stark contrast to what I had been told from the beginning. Testosterone was supposed to destroy my body. I was hopeful that the same thing would happen. I woke up 45 minutes later with my wife smiling and telling me that they got 10.
I felt a sense of joy. We went from beingscrambled to10 We had tears of relief on our faces.
During the second week of the IVF cycle, the author prepares one of two injections. The photo is courtesy of James Bennett.
The week after was more anxious than the previous week. Every two days I received a call from the embryologist to get an update on my condition after my body crashed from the hormones. The difficulty began to feel manageable after each piece of good news, even though it initially seemed like a far-fetched science experiment. Six of the eight fertilized embryos ended up in theviable category. There are two good, one fair, and three on the poor side. We screamed and embraced at the end of the calls. It was one step closer to being built.
We decided to take a break after the freezing of our embryos. We would pursue my wife's portion of the cycle at a later time, but for now, focus on getting me back to my happy self.
I decided to wait at least a week and a half until the doctor gave me the go-ahead to start testosterone again. It would take about two weeks to get rid of the excess female hormones in my body, and I didn't want to use testosterone to counteract them. My body was getting better.
The lack of physical pain left my brain free to concentrate on other things. The months without testosterone had begun to take their toll, and since I was no longer hiding away in the house with IVF medications, I suddenly found myself consumed with worry that I was no longer passing as male. I spent a lot of time overanalyzing my curves in the mirror, even though my body barely changed. I almost lost my mind when a man double-checks the gender sign as I exit a public bathroom. It wasn't important that it was probably just his reaction.
The waiter referred to me and my girlfriends as "ladies" and I almost left the restaurant. My brain picked up where it left off when he didn't see me. Even though no one misgendered me this time, I was still depressed and desperate to escape. I didn't think about suicide in years, and I worried I wouldn't make it out.
As I watched the needle of testosterone sink into my thigh, I felt a sense of relief. I said goodbye to the parts of me that were enjoyable to revisit, the clearer skin, and the temporary halt of my hair. I knew I was meant to be male when I looked at the surface of my previous self.
I was feeling better after a day on hormones. After the dysphoria dissipated, my wife and I began to plan for our last days of summer. Before her part comes to life, we set up a lot of trips, eating and enjoying each other.
We don't know how the embryo will do, but we will always be grateful that the impossible became possible. I can be a dad by blood and my eggs weren't scrambled. My appreciation for testosterone will always be there.
James Bennett is a trans man from Australia. He works in the medical device industry and is happily married with no children. He likes to travel and write. James' memoir, "SPILLING THE T," will be released in the year 2023.
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The article was first published on HuffPost.
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