Archive of Our Own

I was born male, given the name Isaac. By the age of seven, I discovered, along with my early presentation of omega, that I identified more as female than male. My parents took it quite well, immediately offering to take me for hormone treatments. My mother told me he would have done the same at my age had the times been different when my parents were presenting. My father never found qualm with my decision, rather feeling like I had made the right choice. As I got older, while going through hormone therapy, I was comforted by my parents when I was struggling to fit in with omega classmates. I never had trouble with alphas in highschool because I always took my suppressants on time, religiously, and made sure to stay home an extra day after my heats to avoid residual scent from attracting unwanted attention. While other omegas were vying for the attention of alphas I was studying and keeping to myself. I had offers from betas, sure. I even had a date to senior prom, but I don’t like looking back at that. My long, thin, blonde hair looked stringy and my supposedly fitted gown made me look like a flat board in a dress.

Despite hormone shots since before puberty I never developed the way I hoped I would. During the first year of college my parents agreed to pay for my “top” surgery as they call it in the trans world. I’m an omega in the first place and have been raised in my chosen gender since childhood, the only piece missing to make me feel complete was looking on the outside how I felt on the inside. I conservatively decided upon a 200 cc implant. The recovery period was uncomfortable to say the least, but returning to campus the following year feeling like myself made the pain worth it. I turned a few more heads than usual with my new form. Being an omega I was already predisposed to have wider hips so the addition of more well defined breasts gave me more of an hourglass figure. Feeling more confident I went to more parties but still never let my grades slip. I was still more familiar with my professors than fellow students.

There was a noticeable difference in my aura in my graduation pictures. My parents standing on either side of their daughter, all sporting proud smiles while I held up my diploma. Quickly, the mystique of adult life after college dissipated upon returning home and struggling to find places to stuff the remains of college life. My parents were happy to have me home but we all knew I’d need to find a job and my own place to live. My mother refused to help in the apartment hunt as he didn’t want me to go, it was never a secret that he wanted more kids when I was growing up but it just never happened. My father was very helpful in finding and moving me into my new place. It was close to my new school where I began the long journey of studying for my Ph.D. in psychology. Working in the same department as my field of study gave me even more time to learn about it.

I was well known around the psychology department as Izzy. I had gone by that name ever since before my transition. It was never questioned until one particular alpha tried to get my attention by calling me Isabel. I didn’t respond so he grabbed my arm, not aggressively but the only alpha who’d ever touched me before was my father. I probably looked like a deer in headlights. He was tall, statuesque even, with an air of arrogance but his eyes were soft, almost pleading. Being quite familiar with the building and having nothing better to do I offered to show him to his destination, insisting he call me Izzy. I could tell he was trying to be a gentleman because I was obviously not a fellow alpha or a laid back beta. It never occurred to me that he could have been interested in me.

Although I identify as female and look it, I never saw myself as a sexual being. My base purpose was to find a mate and give them children, but it never crossed my mind until I was alone with this alpha. He told me I would never be taken seriously with a name like Izzy and that using my given name was the best bet. He was really trying to get under my skin, I had nothing else to do so I played along. Not many people knew about my past unless they went to elementary school with me. Of course my family and close friends knew, but this new acquaintance wouldn’t know who I used to be. He laughed, chuckled even, when I told him my name was Isaac. He assumed my parents were “modern”, fun parents that named me to be different. I assured him that was not the case. He used flattery in an attempt to break me down. I’d known him for the amount of time it takes to walk from one end of a small academic building to the other. I still didn’t know his name so I definitely wasn’t going to tell him my life story. I left him and went back to my work station.

Usually never flustered, I couldn’t stop thinking about him. I tried to identify what possible mental illness he would have to make him so forceful, aside from being an alpha. Shortly after that encounter I succumbed to a heat. Due to my prudent use of suppressants it only last a couple of days. Returning to work after being unable to do anything was frustrating. So much work had piled up and I had been eager to return to my thesis. Some fellow students and even a few professors gave me looks and offered to give me space. I was unsure why until my nameless alpha friend rolled around. A feeling I’d never before experienced took hold of me. My mother described it best as a magnet pulling you toward satisfaction. My parents had been together from a young age, considering they were barely through their forties as I was nearing quarter life. I’d never spent a heat with an alpha so I’d never felt the full extent of the pull. Remaining sensitivity buzzed through my entirety.

I could smell him before I saw him and it clouded my vision when he entered the office. He walked toward me like he had a purpose but restrained himself, standing a couple feet away. I felt overpowered by him and neither of us had even spoken a word. I vaguely noticed everyone else trickling out of the department. He kept eye contact, never straying as he told me he forgot to give me his name when last we spoke. I can say I was a little taken aback. Not that it was that unique a name but I couldn’t help but think if this was who I’d be if I had presented as alpha and remained male. We looked nothing alike, but even between identical twins a massive difference became evident when one presented as alpha and the other omega. I had laughed a little breathlessly to myself which caught his attention. Lightheaded from his overwhelming scent I told him we had a bit more in common than most alpha and omega. He promptly asked me out for a drink.

Ever the cautious one, I’d never gone drinking with friends but this seemed different. We went to a local pub where he immediately linked our hands across the small table. I doubt I’ll ever know what made this connection between us but I can admit I felt safe with him. Both my parents had raised me to respect others, but considering my specific circumstances they taught me to be aware of my surroundings at all times. With this Isaac, in the pub, I was in a haze. It was like my heat had picked back up. I’d gone out too soon after and it decided it wasn’t done. Although I felt this way no one around us became aggressive or even approached me. I felt compelled to tell him my entire life story.

We sat almost in silence just staring at each other, holding hands. Any eagerness to work on my thesis dissolved, he monopolized my mind in that instance. A few moments passed before we could even speak to one another. We backtracked a little just to get the basic introduction down. I learned I’d be seeing a lot more of him in the coming days as he had just transferred from the program his parents strong-armed him into to psychology. We joked about diagnosing family members with different mental illnesses when we first learned particular conditions. He still didn’t believe me about my given name and although I felt closer to him than anyone I’d ever met it was still too early to go into that for me. After a couple of beers on his part, I chose to stick with soda as I was still tipsy from my heat, he took me home.

He respected the newness of our union and left me at the lobby of my building. It was then that I wished I had a roommate or at least a close girlfriend to confide in. I settled for screaming into my pillow then breaking down and calling my mother. He was just about as happy as I was. He had put the phone on speaker for my father to hear, neither could believe we had the same given name. My father gave me some tips that left my cheeks burning and my mother giggling. That was the most exhilarating day of my life. It never eluded me that maybe if I had stayed home the customary buffer day after my heat that this might never have occurred. I didn’t think on it long as I exchanged texts with Isaac well into the night. The following weekend I was surprised to find him waiting outside my building. My head had cleared and my prince was still there. It was like a fairytale. Even without the cloying scent of need pulling him in he still seemed consumed by my every word.

Often Isaac would take me on dates to the park or cafes in the centralized campus area. It was always a good time but I couldn’t help feeling after the sixth or so date that he was avoiding something. One night before he left me at the door of my apartment, coming incrementally closer each date, I invited him in. His smile betrayed him somewhat, but I was adamant that I would tell him about myself in detail this time. After placating him with a mug of tea we sat in my cramped living area where I began my tale. He sat across from me to begin with as I told him about my youth. I started off pretty blunt, stating that I was indeed born male but found myself not too long after feeling another way. His silence was welcomed as he looked genuinely interested. Homosexual relationships were almost the norm in the ABO society so it was safe to assume everyone had tried a bit of each flavor before settling down. His parent, both female, were much like my own although the opposite gender. His parents however seemed a bit more strict from what I had heard by that time. I filled him in on my parents’ opinion of my situation and caught a small smile as I described their supportive behavior. I conveyed the details of my gender saga, saving school and dating for another sit down.

When I finished some time later he stood, I assumed the worst, but immediately calmed when he took a seat beside me on the sofa. Anyone else and it would have been uncomfortable but his scent was calming and warm. He pulled me into his arms and I felt his chest rumble as he chuckled. He really had not believed me when I told him my given name, he has expected even less that I had been born male. I have always been short and rather frail looking although puberty helped me fill out some, I would have looked feminine without hormone therapy. He wasn’t even bothered by my breast implants, stating I went for a “good size” which had me chuckling. He was not a fan of the bimbo look, not that it was very common among our peers. He did tell me he had had a bit of experience with romance but had never had what we were encountering. I was glad that I wasn’t facing him as I was definitely blushing at that.

He promised he would wait until I was ready to move forward and never brought up the topic of mating, not even after we had officially been dating for a few months. In fact I had brought up the much avoided matter. In my 24th year, I felt a strange pull after a particularly strenuous heat. I had yet to spend one with Isaac despite an open invitation. We hadn’t even copulated after over a year together. I decided I wanted him to meet my parents before I gave up something so important. He gladly agreed and even invited me to do the same. My parents invited him in like he was already their son. His parents were weary of me to say the least. They didn’t outright deny the fact that I was female, but as biological females themselves we had a few differences. Isaac placed himself between us as a buffer and convinced his parents that what we had was more likely to be permanent than just a notch on a bedpost. I had to hide tears of joy at that point, but his mother wanted proof of our devotion to each other.

At my 25th birthday party both of our mothers decided Isaac and I should at least bond by the time I finished my Ph.D. While I was nervous, well within my right, Isaac seemed to be buzzing with excitement. I spoke in hushed tones to my parents to share my misgivings. They both knew more than enough about my life than to mistake that I had any experience in such things. I didn’t have the lifelong connection with Isaac like between my parents and I hadn’t even partake in sexual flings. I was completely virginal in all aspects of the word. Of course Isaac changed that, but I was still just a child coming face to face with the biggest decision in my life. Was I ready to bond? Was I even ready for sex? What if I was only what he wanted when he couldn’t see my shame? Many questions drilled into my head. I pushed as many out as possible to keep my Ph.D. in mind.

I spent a fair amount of time alone to work on my thesis, drained by the end of it. I was almost lifeless from working non-stop through the night for days. Isaac invited himself over shortly before my Ph.D. was to be reviewed. It wasn’t unusual at this point in our relationship. Isaac had found me slumped over my desk, my face stuck to a draft of my thesis. He picked me up and put me in my bed where I woke up more aware of myself and very aware that the alpha sleeping next to me would wake up any moment at the increasing scent of my heat. In my haste to finish my work I had disregarded my scheduled suppressants and my heat would be in full force within hours. The fear I felt as Isaac stirred behind me was equaled only by the strange tranquility his alpha scent created.

We both agreed that I would be in control of when or if we bonded, the latter to his displeasure. It filled my heart to know he wanted me, but if I didn’t feel it then there was no way I’d be able to do it. Ever since I made the decision at the young age of seven to be who I felt I was I left little wiggle room for myself. Panic had begun to seep into my bones as his grip on me loosened. Without a word he got up and left my room. I was almost certain he wouldn’t come back, but after hearing rustling and clinking in the kitchen he came back with bottles of water and various snacks scrounged from my cabinets. He set them close by and returned to my side unaware that I was even awake. When he stilled I turned to him and couldn’t help but kiss him and hold him close. He hummed against my lips as his hands roamed my burning skin.

I’d never had a heat as concentrated as this felt. Usually I stayed in bed and cried until I passed out then woke up and did it again until the unscratchable itch faded. The itch was so much stronger without medication to quell it. I didn’t push Isaac away because I knew he was the key to making this feeling go away. He seemed to know just what I needed as he helped me out of my wrinkled sweats and tshirt. He ran his fingertips over my goose-pimpled skin and had me writhing in agony. His smile looked sadistic but his didn’t leave me wanting. Much to my embarrassment, my parents had supplied me with the materials to satiate myself during my heats alone but they couldn’t compare to the real thing. As we had yet to see each other in our base forms I was almost paralyzed by the sight of him. While I still retained my male organ, it was naturally diminutive because of my presentation in addition to hormone therapy. To satisfy myself in times of unease I told myself it could pass as an enlarged clitoris. Isaac’s on the other hand was mammoth in comparison.

While physically I knew my body could take it, thanks to the embarrassing plethora of toys my parents gifted me, mentally it was still a challenge. He could see in my eyes that I was hesitant so he settled in to prepare me despite my body begging for him to just take me. Trying to remain calm, I laid back and let his fingers prod and flex as my blood boiled to the point where I couldn’t remain silent. With Isaac’s hands pushing me toward the brink I used mine to give him a hint as to what I really wanted. His skin was just as hot to the touch as my own. He hissed as I handled him for the first time. Before my mind became too foggy I smirked and he stilled, his head buried in my shoulder as I stroked him to full hardness. We were both breathless by the time he was actually moving to take me.

Our physiology made it easier by relaxing our muscles, specifying direction of blood flow and practically flooding me with slick. Even if I wasn’t already attracted to him there would be little to no resistance. When I thought I was at the peak of melting, he pressed in and a new level of heat seemed to radiate from him. I swore I cried at the sensation but after the first thrust I honestly can’t remember much. Later Isaac told me how aggressive I was in between bouts of neediness. I felt a little ashamed but he never gave me a reason to be, it was just my own nature. I did realize after the fact that although we had done it during my heat he had not marked me and he had not knotted me. Hearing that relaxed me as it had been my first time and our parents had laid off a bit on our bonding.

A few more heats passed where I refrained from taking the suppressants so I could fully enjoying my boyfriend. As time went on I was able to remember a little more of each heat and it got to a point where I was only a little sheepish because of the things I said and did.

Achieving my goal of a Ph.D. in my desired field, I felt a huge weight leave my shoulders. My mother immediately pounced on the opportunity to have me come home again, but was only a little sad when I told him Isaac and I were moving in together. My father, ever the optimist, told my mother to expect grandchildren soon. I was glad Isaac wasn’t around to hear that. My ears burned as I left my parents’ house to finish moving into my new place. I felt like a real adult, sharing a bed, a home with the man I loved. Isaac was excited about it too. We used the time between school and jobs to sit on the hardwood floor of our apartment surrounded by still-packed boxes and flameless candles to eat dinner or make out. More the latter. There was just something romantic about the setting.

My first heat living with Isaac was almost as exhilarating as the very first. That night we took a very big step, one our parents had been waiting for for months. While I would have preferred face to face, I couldn’t deny the spark of pleasure I felt as Isaac took me from behind, knot forming and his canines burying themselves in my neck. My usual whimper had an added undertone of submission as I finally became his. When we woke from our haze we could only lie in each other’s arms and laugh. I was more sore than I’d ever been but it felt better than it ever had. Isaac seemed a little more at ease when we were out and about, mostly because I was proudly exhibiting my bond mark. I got a few looks of jealousy from girls much prettier than myself as we passed on the street. It was not secret to me that Isaac was out of my league, but that had nothing to do with what we saw in each other.

Shortly after we bonded, we invited our parents over for a housewarming dinner. They brought small gifts, embarrassingly enough including a pair of knit booties. My mother looking rather smug. All could tell from my mark that we had bonded and by my scent that I had been knotted. There were whisperings of “it’s only a matter of time”. Even Isaac’s parents were twittering along with mine about it. Although his siblings had already provided his parents with a few grandchildren by then, the children of the youngest child were usually held dear more than the others. I couldn’t hide it anymore, I was expected to produce a child almost immediately and it terrified me. On the other hand Isaac was expected to propose and wed me before that happened, on his parents’ request. He was to make an honest woman out of me. Even now the thought sounds ridiculous.

Although my physiology makes it possible for me to bear children, just like every other omega, I’m one of the few who wanted to look the part, i.e. womanly. Nature gave me the ability to give birth but I had to do the rest of the work to truly feel like I believed I should to do so. I always preferred dresses to pants, only favoring jeans in cold weather. Whenever I thought about being bonded and with child I always pictured myself in one of those maternity dresses with the ribbon bow that draped over my stomach. It gave me butterflies to think of that actually coming to fruition. I knew from what I’d seen and read, pregnancy was an uncomfortable experience so why not do all I could to look cute while I’m suffering. I conveyed that to my mother all the while he was learning to knit for my non-existent child’s benefit.

It had been a few weeks since the awkward family dinner when I came home to find the living room furniture pushed to the side and the old boxes festooned with the good old flameless candles. My struggling to find my keys, which had become the norm, gave Isaac plenty of time to get down on one knee front and center of the dimly lit room. It was unexpected only because I had recently been job hunting relentlessly to find a place I really liked. I was exhausted so all I could muster was a weak smile as I shuffled over and slumped into his arms. Needless to say both sets of parents were elated upon hearing of our engagement. We made our engagement short and married at city hall. My mother saw it as us pushing to have a child, Isaac’s mother was just skeptical of me assuming I had ulterior motives. Within the season of our marriage my heat resulted in our first child. I was almost the last to know, Isaac noticed the change in my scent almost instantaneously and my mother claimed he could see the shift in my pelvis.

My parents’ excitement aside, Isaac was becoming a doting father before we had even gone to a sonogram appointment. While our apartment had two bedrooms, the smaller of the two was being used as an office. This new development led to a bit of improvisation for us. Most of our old textbooks and study material was stored at our parents’ houses and his desk was moved to the living room. With the empty second bedroom sending every noise echoing off the walls, we decided our first holiday bonuses would go toward designing the nursery. We were equally excited about it but our first disagreement came to a head when we had to pick a color. I was only a couple months along, not yet plump enough to fill out the flowy dresses of my dreams, and we were keeping the gender a secret until I delivered. That left us struggling to decide on a gender neutral color, Isaac wanted blue which was decidedly not neutral while I wanted grey and yellow. I had always had a vision of a muted grey and pastel yellow nursery with elephants on everything. He just wanted his favorite color. The room remained unpainted until we were out shopping and found the perfect bassinet. The espresso colored wood and the pleated skirt with matching canopy looked warm and like the perfect place for our child to spend its first months. Isaac had no choice but to agree because it was undeniably beautiful. A simple theme of dark wood and warm colored linen made the empty room into a welcoming habitat for everyone who entered.

My favorite place to sit and go over work was the rocking chair in the nursery when the sun was low and shining orange through the sheer curtains. Despite our initial disagreement on the design, Isaac became accustomed to joining me in the evenings, letting me sit on his lap in the rocking chair until he decided his legs had been asleep long enough. That always earned him a playful slap but he kept the joke running until the end. Christmas then New Years passed and we got closer and closer to meeting our baby. They seemed just as anxious to get out as we were to meet them. Isaac was always understanding when I needed to lean on him at three in the morning to walk laps around the living room until the movement in my womb ceased. He also got quite skilled at back and foot rubs.

I felt a little bad that well into my pregnancy I couldn’t comfortably lay with him, in the biblical sense. Early on the excess blood flowing through my veins made me more susceptible to jumping him, but as I got bigger it was harder to find a comfortable position. While I wanted to please my husband, my mate, my alpha, I was struggling. Since my scent was keeping him calm and happy, knowing I was bearing his child, in the back of my mind I really just wanted him to take me like he used to. He’d plead with me to just wait until after the baby came but I could tell it was heavy on his shoulders too.

As a gift for my birthday, Isaac took me for a long weekend at Japanese style spa. We had our own villa with a private outdoor bath. I knew what he was doing bringing me there in my physical state. While I couldn’t drink the sake or enjoy the sushi because of my dietary restrictions, the real reason for the visit was the bath. He led me out into the warm air and helped me slip out of my robe, still covering me with his body as he could sense my nervousness about the near public nudity. Keeping me steady he helped me step into the bath which melted the knots in my muscles and mind. I sank into his lap and he wrapped his arms around me, hands sliding in the water over the swell of our child. This was something we did often at home, Isaac sitting behind me and egging the fetus on into chasing his moving fingers. Now his hands were soft and soothing. He was avoiding riling them up and I quickly understood why, feeling his arousal against my back. I slyly grazed him and his hands stilled and he took a sharp breath in. I chuckled slightly which earned me a nip at my ear. We flirted for a while before we waded into the deep end of the bath where we were floating together. All the while he was preparing me for my real gift. He placed my hands on the edge of the bath as his hands held me close and lined himself up before pushing in.

Having remained abstinent for the past couple of months, the sensation felt 100 times stronger. I was glad I was floating in the bath because my legs would have given out. Isaac’s chest flush to my back sent my heart fluttering. I reached for his hands and guided them with my own to increase my pleasure. He whispered sweet nothings in my ear with every movement. I soon had to return to holding the side of the bath to ensure I wouldn’t float away. The warmth that enveloped me in the water and my warmth enveloping him was pure bliss. His hand kept moving in the rhythm I’d set for him and he held me closer when my breathing became ragged and my chest heaved. With my ears ringing and my body convulsing as much as it allowed, Isaac thrusted a few more times until his weight sagged against me slightly. I could feel his smile as he breathed heavily, pressing kisses to my neck and shoulder. We stayed like that for a good 15 minutes before he pulled out and got out to dry off and help me out of the bath and into my robe. I slept better that night than I had in weeks. The next day we decided against going into the bath again but did take advantage of the other spa facilities.

Going back to work for the last time before my leave was heartbreaking for me. I had barely been there a year and I was already leaving, albeit not permanently but it was a place I enjoyed working. While I didn’t have a lot of friends to plan a baby shower for me, my coworkers threw me a small party the day before my leave started. I had to call Isaac to pick me up along with my dozens of onesie and the many boxes of diapers. Instead of going home we drove to his parents’ house where my parents were also waiting. I knew it from their car parked outside but I never expected another party in my (baby’s) honor. While I kept my composure at work the tears flowed freely in front of our parents and his siblings. I had met one of them briefly but seeing all of them I could tell they belonged to Isaac’s family and that they were a lot more welcoming than their parents.

My mother ushered me to the plush recliner in the living room as my parents and in laws shuttled in piles of gifts. It was apparent that even absent family members had contributed. I was almost as excited about the mountain of toys as my nieces and nephews, something I was compelled to call those of my husband. Having been an only child I never had this many children in my life and I felt so blessed that I met Isaac in that moment. The smallest of the nieces chose to sit on what was left of my lap and tell me stories about her day. I couldn’t help but picture her has my own in a few years. Her mother whisked her away as I started to cry again and Isaac swooped in to comfort me. After stuffing my face with cake and helping very minimally to pack up all the gifts into the car I hugged everyone goodbye, saving Isaac’s parents for last. His father was curt but polite and his mother took me aside and had me wait while she left to returned with a box.

Inside was a collection of Isaac’s baby clothes and a small album with pictures of both of us in the first few pages. She must have gotten them from my mother. It was evident she had tried to match correlating moments in each of our developments. There was a picture of each of us being held by our mothers for the first time, our first birthdays, first day of school, high school graduation, college graduation and a few more with us actually together, until the last occupied page consisting of my first sonogram. I flipped through the whole book, lost in my own mind and when I looked up I realized we both had tears in our eyes. Omegas naturally have a bond, although it took a while ours was finally solidified. She pulled me into a tight embrace, giggling as my little passenger stretched out rather aggressively. She bent down and pressed a hand to my stomach asking them to give me a break, that we’ll meet them soon. Too right she was. She led me back out to our car where my father was chatting up my husband. I kissed my mother goodbye and settled into the passenger seat. Our parents waved us off and we enjoyed a calm drive home. Isaac decided against questioning his mother’s behaviour. He could smell her scent on me and understood I’d finally be accepted into her pack. We had to share none but a smile to get our point across.

Family functions always took it out of me so Isaac just brought me up and tucked me into bed and went back to unpack the car by himself. I had about a week to stock up the nursery and put away all the washed baby clothes before I called Isaac home from work a week before my due date, amniotic fluid pooling at my feet. I thank the lord to this day that I wasn’t on a carpet. After the shock wore off and a couple contractions passed I changed my clothes and cleaned up the mess. Isaac was a little more than confused when he found me relaxing on the couch when he got home. He was flushed and all ready to whisk me to the hospital. I admit it was a bit of an anticlimax when we were left waiting hours for my contractions to get closer. While waiting he called our parents and the hospital just to be sure everything would go seamlessly. I sat back watching his pace and worry at his hair as I just breathed and rubbed my stomach when my muscles tensed painfully.

It was just past midnight when my contractions were 15 minutes apart. I was exhausted and was kicking myself for making such a fuss for nothing. It was almost embarrassing to having to sit for several hours after calling my husband home in a panic. He felt no ill will toward me as he patiently helped me into the car giving one last call to our parents. Our arrival at the hospital was anticipated by a nurse with a wheelchair and our mothers. I just assumed our fathers were at home or off doing some menial task to get them out of their spouses’ hair. While my mother was bouncing off the walls Isaac’s was comforting me. Isaac signed me in and the nurse wheeled me to a rather nice room. When I was waiting to get my epidural our mothers were squabbling over natural versus medicated birth. My mother wanted me to have whatever I wanted while Isaac’s mother insisted she would have gone without an epidural if she could do it over again. My mother’s point being she had four children giving her chance enough to try it every way she wanted. Before they could come to a compromise the nurse had finished taping down the line going into my spine. Isaac’s hand throbbing from my extreme fear of needles. The pain was nothing to sniff at so I felt justified. As my lower extremities lost feeling, I laid back and waited for our child to make its big debut. If only the medication could alleviate all of the pain.

As I was instructed to begin pushing I was already regretting every decision that led to that day. Of course it was just in the moment but that just reveals how treacherous an ordeal it was. I cried and screamed and pleaded for more medication but was met with only refusal. Near the end our mothers were removed from the room for their own emotional safety. When my cries were finally matched by those more shrill I realized my work was done. Isaac’s attention was drawn toward the doctor situated at my feet. I followed his gaze and it landed upon the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen covered in blood. She was wriggling and shrieking but she was gorgeous. The assisting nurse wrapped her in the standard white blanket and cap and brought her up to me. I felt alive, really alive. My whole life until that moment was me trying to become the omega I was born to be. I may have been born male but in that moment I was a wife and mother. In our world it doesn’t matter how you were born, it’s who you want to become and that you make it happen that matters.

Obviously the story doesn’t end there. While my lifelong dream of being the woman I knew I was was completed for the most part, I still had a family to raise and I have. I made my parents and my mate proud by giving birth to three healthy children whom my husband and I entirely support in all their decisions. I enjoy my time away from my children and husband working in the psychology department of our old college. My mother takes the kids as often as he can but he and Isaac’s mother fight it out every week. His mother warmed up to me so much once our first daughter was born. When we first brought her home she was the first to offer to stay with us to give me time to rest despite Isaac insisting he was taking paternity leave. After our son was born a little over a year later my mother beat her to it. Just last year when our youngest, a girl, was born and we had just finished moving into our new house they both stayed with us to prevent the older kids from getting under our feet with the new baby around.

I miss them while I’m at work but it gives me space to breathe until I get home and have them all pile into our king sized bed to snuggle and watch cartoons. The first time Isaac caught us all he took a picture and sent it to our parents. I found out when my mother in law sent out a family newsletter with the picture on the first page. I could see from it all the features our children had inherited from their father that he inherited from his parents. They take after me as well but I love to see his expressions in their faces as they grow up. Only time will tell how they each will present and where they will go from there, but if Isaac and I succeeded in becoming our true selves, they will be in good hands.