When I was a first-time mom, I wanted to do everything “right.” So when it was time to transition my baby to solid food, I bought the “baby bible” du jour on the best way to make and store your own baby food. The author was a woman whom I respected for her nutritional knowledge, even if some of her other advice made me raise an eyebrow.
Pyramid Point, 2002
For example, she shared an anecdote when a glass bottle had broken in her kitchen and she went through all the steps to clean it up: pick up large pieces, sweep the smaller bits, go over the area with a wet cloth to get any stray shards. But then she said, “And then I scooch my bare feet over the area to make sure nothing is left; better my feet than my baby’s knees!”
And yes, sure, of course I wouldn’t want my baby to crawl through any shards of glass. But I’m probably just going to make sure my cleaning abilities are up to snuff, followed by a visual assessment of the area, rather than dragging my feet across it to capture stray pieces. So I ignored that piece of advice. My babies grew up, well-fed and happy, and I got rid of the book.
But that image of that author sacrificing her feet for her baby’s knees never left me. Years later, when my firstborn came out as non-binary, it resurfaced. When my child asked us to use a new name and pronouns, it was hard. It felt a little like sandpaper scraping over me every time I used them. It physically hurt a little bit.
Christmas, 2020
But then it occurred to me that every time I didn’t use their new name or pronouns, whether by mistake or forgetfulness, my child felt that pain. It was like they were crawling through those shards of glass, when actually, yes, I would happily do it instead. They had always been my non-binary kiddo who should have had this “new” name and pronouns, I just didn’t know it until they told me. Suddenly, using them wasn’t so difficult. In fact, using the old, incorrect ones started to become uncomfortable, as did hearing others use them.
Did I just get used to the pain or discomfort? No, I don’t think so. Nor would I say my soles became calloused. To mix metaphors even more, I’d characterize it as my heart “grew three sizes that day” in response to my kid being vulnerable enough to trust me with their heartfelt truth. And that expanded love helped me get curious and fashion myself some glass- and sandpaper-proof slippers: the most beautiful, comfortable slippers that I wouldn’t trade for the world.
So now, when someone tells me something about themselves, I try to honor it. If it’s important enough for them to mention it, to trust me with their heartfelt truth, it’s important that I notice, get curious, and respect that request. I don’t want anyone to feel like they’re walking across shards of glass. And I am so grateful for family and friends who respect this aspect of my child and work to not cause them (or me) pain.
Tulip Time, 2025
It’s part and parcel of why at Pilates in Holland we say Every. Body. Belongs. Because no matter your story: your gender, orientation, diagnosis, race, or any other identity, there’s a place for you here.
As part of this commitment, we’ll be at Holland Pride on June 28 from 1-6 pm at Kollen Park. Please come and be part of this joyful celebration, and make sure to stop by and say hi!
