My wife passed away before she ever realized what was truly happening to our child.
She died without knowing that I had changed our child's gender—without understanding the truth that had been living under her nose the entire time.
For all she knew until her final breath, Johanne had always been a boy.
She never once knew—never even suspected—that she had been born a girl.
But deep down, I can't help but feel like my wife sensed something. That behind her soft gaze and quiet demeanor, she was waiting for me to speak up.
I could see it in the way she looked at me when Johanne was mentioned.
A patient, almost pleading kind of silence. She knew I was hiding something.
I could feel it every time her eyes lingered, every time her lips pressed together before she chose not to ask. She was waiting. Waiting for me to tell her the truth with my own lips.
But in the end…
I never said a word.
I failed her. In the worst way imaginable.
