'Four years ago I asked my children to retire the term "dad." It triggered my dysphoria, and led to stares from strangers. We settled on simply "Cassie," which mostly worked... except folks would ask, "so, who’s Cassie? Who is Cassie to you?"
We tried a few things. We tried the awkward "my parent." I didn’t love it.
Finally, in exasperation, I said, "I am your mother. I’m your parent, and I’m female. Don’t we already have a word for that?"
My daughter happily adopted that. My son balked, continued to use Cassie, and defines me to others as his "transmom." It sort of works.
But around Mother’s Day last year, my co-parent (their biological mother) learned of this, and was very hurt. She lashed out in anger, "you are NOT their mother - and you never will be!" — which in turn hurt me enormously.
It took us many months, much struggle to come to dialog over this. And when we finally spoke, we both saw the other side. I assured her I did not mean to encroach, to infringe into "her turf." She in turn assured me she was not questioning my womanhood. We empathized with one another. We cried. We learned.'