It was just after 1am on a warm summer morning. My wife was told after 25 hours of labor she was going to need an emergency C-section. We were terrified as baby’s heart rate kept dropping in and out of normal range all labor and he was struggling to move down the canal.

Nurse: Dad, this is the time to get your phone out and take babies first photo!

Me: She’s not talking to me. I’m not a father. I’m not even sure what I am…

Nurse: This is it! Time to see if it’s a boy or girl!

Me: Oh it’s a boy we found out with the ultrasounds

Nurse: Are you sure? Those aren’t always accurate. You never know! Nope, definitely a boy…

My son was born and I spent the first hour of his life alone as my wife had complications after the c section. We did skin to skin, him on my chest… Cue identity crisis.

Months of not grasping the concept of how I could be a father. Why did I feel more connected to the idea of being a mother. I googled “how to know I’m trans” and came across the Gender Dysphoria Bible that smashed my egg wide open at the tender age of 29