Maternal

Everyone always gives me an odd look when I say that I want children.
I do want children. My own children made with my own skin and bones and hair and spit.
I want to care for them, to watch them grow up to be beautiful people, I want to give life to my children alongside my partner.

Everyone always says that period cramps suck. And they do! I've spent whole days curled up on my bed because of them. But you know what? Those pains are a reminder of something wonderful. The very idea that my body can create life, brand new sticky, noisy life, from a tangled mess of biology so small that I could not see it with my own eye, is incredible. My body has the capability to create new life and that is amazing.
If only god can create life, then what does that make my body?

Some days I wake up and I look at my body and I wish it wasn't mine.
Sometimes I look at my breasts and I wish they were gone. Not mine, not here.
I wish I could just flatten them or remove them completely.
I have thought about top surgery.

But the only reason I even feel this way is because people still insist of believing that my breasts make me female, make me woman, make me lesser.
I wonder if they would think me even less of a person if I told them my gender.
If I told them that I am not just woman.
That I am man, and person, and real.
I am genderfluid, a rip-roaring combination of it all. I may change from season to week to day to minute to moment.
Some days, I am a boy in a skirt. Or a girl plastered in grime and playing volleyball with the grittiest gits in my year. But this is not because I am "playing my sex." Nor am I trying to make some kind of statement to the masses.
I wear my skirts because they are comfortable and look nice and I like them even if they don't really. And I play in the dirt because I can. Because my body can.
My body can do so many unbelievable things.
But my body does not define me.

I am Daisy.
I am also Andrew.
But for now let's call me Dae.
And one day
I will be a proud parent.