By the spring of 2023, Finn was ready to schedule his top surgery. He had to consider that he wouldn’t be able to attend university for at least two weeks, so he chose a time slot when he wouldn’t miss critical events like written exams or important lab work.

The hospital was located close to where we live, and I could visit Finn with just a one-hour bus ride—something I was deeply grateful for.

The surgery went well. We visited Finn twice in the hospital, and after three nights, we were able to bring him home.

At home, he needed some assistance, as he couldn’t lift his arms above his shoulders. Fortunately, I was working remotely during that time and could help whenever he needed support.

The healing process took several weeks, during which Finn was unable to continue his usual dance training. But he recovered steadily, and I felt nothing but relief and gratitude that the ordeal was behind him and that he was healing well.

Before the surgery, even though his breasts had been small, Finn had always felt uneasy exposing his chest in public. After surgery, with a body that looked and felt more aligned with who he is, he felt confident going swimming and visiting the sauna.

Looking back, I thought about all the people who told me to wait—that “it’s just a phase.” I remembered the email from the psychotherapist who described Finn’s desire to remove his breasts as “highly autoaggressive.” She compared his experience to anorexia and proposed a form of treatment that involved forbidding his transition and helping him “tolerate his sadness.”

But it wasn’t just a phase.

And the desire to remove his breasts wasn’t autoaggressive—it was affirming, healing, and right for him.

With this surgery—nearly seven years after Finn came out in the summer of 2016—his transition was complete.

***

This post is part of an online book about my journey with feminism and my son’s transgender journey. You can access the table of contents with links to each chapter here: TOC.