A Mother's Heart
Mom's heart. He had been such a good son. Not perfect in every way, but ordinary, devoted to what he loved more than anyone, always smiling brightly. How could I not adore a child like that?
Becoming a mother of three, I constantly strove to be a good one. I made plenty of mistakes and was the scatterbrained type who worried everyone over trivial things, somehow always coming up short. Still, I wanted to be a mother my kids could be proud of. That was the mindset I raised them with.
But in the end, it seems I couldn't become a good mother.
"H-Honey…! Sua… Sua!!! The baby isn't moving!!!"
Holding my motionless child, blood pouring seriously from his mouth, I screamed almost like a banshee. My whole body was soaked in his blood, my mind gone blank white. I couldn't think of what to do or how to do it. I just kept calling my husband's name, begging for help.
After Sua was born, I'd vowed to become an even better mother. Yet here I was, clutching my dying child, helpless, waiting for someone else to save us.
My dazed husband, standing frozen at my scream, slowly placed a hand on my shoulder. His face was stiff and expressionless, but the hand trembling violently against me betrayed him. With shaking fingers, he gently pressed his palm to Sua's chest and closed his eyes.
"It's okay… still… his heart's beating. He's just passed out. Probably… yeah."
Desperate to believe him, I pressed my ear to the child's chest. At the faint but unmistakable heartbeat, tears burst forth.
"Thank God… he's alive… still alive…."
Then my daughter's voice rang out.
"Mom! Ambulance is almost here! S-Sua's okay, right?"
"For now… he's okay. No, he will be…."
I felt his ragged breathing steadying into a rhythm. Relieved at the improvement, I gently brushed back his bangs. His body was far frailer than before, his face gaunt, skin deathly pale. He still had that fragile, almost girlish look.
I stroked his head silently, waiting for the ambulance. Then my daughter approached cautiously. Touching around his chest, her face twisted in confusion, eyes widening in shock.
"Mom… something's weird…."
"What… what's weird?"
"Sua… he was definitely a boy until last year, right…?"
Her baffling question furrowed my brow. Instead of answering, she carefully lifted his thin t-shirt. His chest was tightly bound with compression bandages.
"This… it's a girl's body…."
My mind couldn't keep up. Instinctively, I unwound the bandages. The swollen, unmistakably feminine swell of developing breasts pressed vividly against my palm. The body of a growing girl.
How had he hidden this? How had I, his mother, not known?
"Honey… what do I do… I'm the worst mother…."
Sobbing, I clutched my husband's collar. He endured silently until a tear he couldn't hide finally fell from the corner of his eye.
Time passed like that for a moment. Soon, the ambulance screeched to a halt outside. Sirens blared wildly, the door burst open, and paramedics rushed into the room.
"We got the call! Where's the patient?!"
At that voice, my mind blanked again.
"D-Doctor…! Please… please save our Sua!!"
"Ma'am, calm down! Tell us what's happening first!"
One paramedic grabbed my trembling self, speaking calmly, but his eyes on me were grave. Covered in my son's blood, I looked wretched. Sua's body, gasping harshly and stained with his own blood, was no picture of normalcy.
I gritted my teeth, forcing my mind to focus. Swallowing shaky breaths, I spoke.
"He has a rare disease…! His… gender… changed…! He vomited blood… blood… so…!"
Am I doing this right now?
By the time we reached the hospital and went through procedures, time had slipped away mercilessly. My husband took leave from work; my daughter skipped school, rubbing sleepy eyes beside me as we waited for the doctor. My body ached with exhaustion, but I couldn't sleep easy. Beyond that door, my son was suffering even now. No way could I rest.
"Get a little sleep. You haven't slept properly in days."
"I'm fine. I can hold on. You rest—you must be tired too."
My husband said no more, quietly taking my hand.
Honestly, I still didn't fully grasp what was happening. I had no idea how to react to the doctor's judgment that unquestioningly accepted my son's gender change and brought us here.
"Are you the patient's guardians?"
A young woman's voice from afar pulled my gaze from the clock. A woman in a white coat with a stethoscope approached with a soft smile. Only her name tag confirmed she was a doctor.
"Ahaha, do I look too young for a doctor?"
"You haven't said anything yet."
"Oh, I talk to myself a lot."
I was flustered. She laughed freely and continued her introduction.
"Hello. I'm Oh Yeonseo. The mood felt too heavy, so… no need for such stiff faces."
She seemed utterly relaxed. Her youthful face, at most high-school aged, made me doubt if she was really a doctor. Like a tomboy, she waved her hands animatedly.
"Oh, are you the father?"
"Yes. So, you have something to tell us?"
"Don't be so blunt. I know I'm overdoing it a bit."
In that instant, the atmosphere shifted. Her light expression vanished, replaced by calm, cool eyes. It felt like her prior demeanor had been a lie. I swallowed silently.
"First, I'll explain the patient's condition. But before that, one question: are you truly prepared?"
"That is…."
Before I could speak, my husband stepped forward.
"You go out for a bit."
I grabbed his sleeve, shaking my head.
"No. I'm ready. I want to know Sua's condition now."
Dread filled my mind—what if it was fatal? My husband eyed me worriedly. I averted my gaze, bowing deeply with eyes squeezed shut.
"Please! Good news or bad… I'll handle it somehow!!"
"No need to go that far…. Sorry. In situations like this, I try to lighten the mood. Anyway, rest assured—your son's stable."
Startled by my outburst, she took my hand.
"Really…?"
"Yes. But the disease is complex. Treatment's practically impossible, and shock during changes can be fatal."
My husband's pupils dilated in shock. I bit my lip, gripping his hand tight.
"Honey…."
"Calm down. I should explain from the start. Your son has been officially diagnosed with gender transformation disease."
"Gender… transformation disease?"
"I know it's shocking. Unrealistic. But hear me out. Decisions come after."
It was a name I'd never heard. Staring blankly, the doctor continued calmly.
"It's extremely rare. Domestic cases can be counted on one hand. Most hide it and live on. The unwanted changes are too cruel."
She took my hand sadly. Faint scars on her wrists and neck caught my eye. My gaze lingered unconsciously.
"They bother you?"
"Those scars…."
"Vestiges of my heart back then. I mentioned it can be fatal in some cases?"
I nodded.
"The disease itself isn't lethal. It just changes your gender."
"Then why…."
"The process is excruciating. Internal organs shifting—beyond imagination. Some endure with painkillers, but hiding it breaks the mind first."
"Doctor, you too…?"
"Yes. I had it. Overcame it. Now I help others like him. Your son's my first patient."
She smiled composedly.
"Rest now. Guardians look risky too. Sleep, eat. Meet him looking your best."
"Sorry about earlier."
"No. Thanks for listening calmly."
She left with a sad smile. Strangely, her back evoked Sua.
I'd always been scatterbrained. Clumsy, no real talents. My mixed heritage distanced friends naturally—a constant. I hated this face like Mom's, these blue-tinged eyes. Until marriage, I'd lived hazily on her aid. That was my life before husband and kids.
"Your eyes are beautiful."
My husband—childhood friend—said that young. Maybe casual, but it touched me deeply. We spent years together, built a home. After marriage and kids, we started using formal speech. Became husband-wife, parents.
Our firstborn son's birth brought floods of tears. Joy of parenthood mixed with fear—could I raise him right? Holding his tiny breaths, exhausted from labor yet filled with energy.
"Thank you… I'm a dad now."
"I… I'm a mom…."
Truly blissful. Years flew; second child, a daughter like me. Husband bragged to friends, always with photos. Foolish, but endearing—made me laugh.
Last, little Sua. Raising them, suddenly three. My anxious self became an ordinary mom. Familiarity amazed me. Marriage once fraught with worry now fit my hands. Time raced; kids grew well. We promised: him a good father, me a good mother.
"Patient's test results are in."
The nurse's voice snapped me from a long dream.
"Sleep if tired. I'll handle the rest."
"Honey…."
My husband was there. I slowly caressed his aged face.
"When… did we get so old?"
"What dream?"
"Old one. Five-year-old kid, now middle-aged. Funny."
"You're the same. Like your mom."
"Yeah…."
Mom in America would rush over packed bags if she knew.
"Guardians, come in."
At the nurse's call, we entered the room. Medicine scent, steady machine beeps.
"Honey…."
"Sua… our son…."
Our sleeping youngest looked peaceful, unlike last night's terror. I stroked his head, weeping silently. Gender changed or not, girl or not, hated self or not—he was my unchanging child.
"Sorry…."
My husband finally broke into sobs. He'd endured as father.
"May I?"
The doctor approached. Youthful face, but steady eyes.
"He's past the crisis. That was the worst. His body's… now capable of pregnancy too. Confirmed uterus formation finally."
Her words were surreal. I gazed wordlessly at him.
"Remarkable kid. Enduring that pain alone…."
She trailed off, nodded, and left quietly.
Standing bedside, I looked down at the sleeping child. Tiny breaths rose and fell evenly. Her words lingered: he'd endured well. That one phrase….