The Transplant

Mercifully, my memory of the operation is a blur, although I do remember being surprised when I woke up by how small my incision was - the doctor had given me a "bikini cut" which wouldn't show once I put on my panties. Because I underwent experimental surgery, I was kept in the hospital for several days, under close observation by Dr. Richardson and Nicole. Meanwhile, my female hormones were starting to kick in, and my hair was growing longer. In a few weeks, Nicole assured me, I'd be able to get it styled into a bob.

The only thing that helped me keep my sanity was the knowledge that part of my wife was inside me now, and that she would always be a part of me. I missed her terribly, and I fell into a deep funk over the prospect of life without her, although her last few weeks had been so miserable that I knew in my heart that it was a blessing that she was gone. She had insisted on keeping her diagnosis quiet so as not to be a burden to her friends and family, and until the very end I honored her wishes. When I finally did tell her parents, her sister and a select few friends a few days before she slipped into a coma, they rallied around her to say their goodbyes, and I'm sure they were wondering why I hadn't planned a memorial service. This was arranged the day I got out of the hospital, and I put on a black suit and tie and sat stoically through her funeral.

The other reason why I was depressed, of course, was the loss of my manhood. In my darkest moments, I cursed myself for giving in to my wife's insane demands. But as I sat there while she was lovingly remembered in a church full of friends and family, I was reminded of the real reason she made me do this: to bring our child into the world. Was there something about me that told her that I'd be a good parent, capable of being a good father, and a good mother too?

One thing I didn't have to worry about was my financial situation. My wife's medical insurance had covered everything, and her company's life insurance policy was very generous. This, combined with my inheritance from my parents, enabled me to pay cash for a smart townhouse downtown, within walking distance of shopping and restaurants. So I busied myself with moving in, trying to forget about my losses as my body slowly began to change. I noticed when I tried to move some furniture that my muscles were getting weaker, the hair on my head seemed to be thicker, and my hips and chest began to swell. I was drifting along in this limbo state when Dr. Richardson's office called to schedule a follow-up appointment to see if my body was ready to carry a baby.

I hadn't put on a stitch of women's clothing since my wife died, and my hair was almost down to my shoulders. Was I really ready to go through with this? Probably not, but I was desperately searching for some meaning in my life, and after some serious soul-searching, I knew that I had to honor her last request.

All of her old clothing had been packed into boxes and stored in an extra room in my new townhouse. I took my time unpacking it, each outfit bringing back little memories of the wonderful times we'd spent together. After all of her skirts, tops and dresses were hung in the closet, her shoes laid out and her lingerie tucked into dresser drawers, I treated myself to a long, hot bubble bath, shaving away the faint traces of body hair which had grown back over the past few months. After I shampooed and dried my hair, I was able to pull it back with a scrunchie into a reasonable pony tail, and I took my time with my wife's old makeup, feminizing my face the way she'd taught me.

Then it was time to get dressed for my appointment with Dr. Richardson. My breasts were enlarging and my penis was shrinking, I noticed as I put on a bra and panties. I decided to wear something simple and casual, a khaki skirt and a girl's polo shirt with knee sox and flats. I had several hours to kill, so I walked downtown to a nearby hair salon and had them trim my shaggy hair into the bob that Nicole had recommended. I was sure that the ladies working at the salon would read me as a man, but if they did they kept it to themselves, and I even let one of them give me a manicure!

After I treated myself to a light lunch at a nearby restaurant - again being taken totally for a woman - I drove to the doctor's office. It occurred to me that my male driver's license would present a real problem if I were stopped or had an accident, but I was still a man underneath my female exterior, so I tried not to worry about it. I don't know if it was the hormones, or the loss of my manhood, but for the first time in my life I began feeling comfortable in women's clothing.

The doctor and Nicole greeted me with expressions of sympathy for my wife, and then we got down to business. Another blood sample was taken, and while Nicole went into the lab to analyze it, the doctor and I had a frank conversation. "If your hormone levels check out, we can implant an embryo in your uterus any time. Are you certain that you're ready to go through with this?"

"I honestly don't know what I'm certain of any more, doctor. Until this morning, I'd gone back to living as a man. For some reason I decided to dress up like this today, and I have to tell you that it feels very right to me now. I'm sure you could tell that my wife was putting some pressure on me, but she's gone now, and the decision is mine. I guess I'm trying to tell you that I want to have our baby."

Nicole returned with the results of my lab work. My testosterone levels were close to zero, and my estrogen levels were identical to a woman's. Genetically speaking I might still be a male, but chemically, my body was now female. I'd need to take maintenance doses of estrogen, almost like birth control pills which could be taken orally, and the doctor wrote me a prescription. I asked him when he could implant the embryo into my uterus.

"It's a simple procedure, only a very small incision is required, and we can do it here and send you home the same day. If you fast tomorrow morning, we can do it tomorrow afternoon."

* * *

And so began my pregnancy. I didn't feel anything for the first few days, other than some minor discomfort from the outpatient surgery. I declined to take any pain medication for it - my baby was going to be healthy and normal! My wife must have been smiling down at me from on high...

Then morning sickness hit me pretty hard, and I spent several days bedridden before it gradually eased off. For the first month or so, there was nothing noticeable happening, but then my tummy slowly started to swell as my baby began to grow and stretch out my womb. Frequent visits to Dr. Richardson and Nicole confirmed that everything was proceeding normally, and the first time I saw an ultrasound, I broke down and wept. My wife was going to get her girl!

Lots of light exercise was essential for a healthy pregnancy, and I took long walks every day. My feet began to swell up, but by now I'd started shopping for women's shoes and clothing of my own, including comfortable mary janes and maternity dresses. I discovered that I loved to wear leggings and tights, which were quite comfortable under my dresses as the weather started to turn cold. My baby was expected in February, and I spent hours creating a little nursery for her. Doctor Richardson and Nicole even surprised me with a baby shower!

By the end of January, I was as big as a house, and it was becoming increasingly uncomfortable to perform even the simplest household tasks. So I was relieved when Dr. Richardson told me that it was time to perform my C-section, but terrified too! Nicole (who had two children of her own, and had become like a sister to me) was wonderful, helping me to pack for my hospital stay and even driving me there.

Because I was in excellent health and there had been no complications, the doctor recommended regional anesthesia, which meant that I'd be awake and alert when my baby came into the world. When she did, I was overwhelmed with feelings of joy and sadness - sadness for my wife, who's crazy stubbornness had made this possible, and who would never get to meet her daughter. Not that my daughter would be without a mother: the first time she was presented with one of my breasts (which had grown amazingly during the last months of my pregnancy) she seized on the nipple like she was supposed to! I can't describe how wonderful it felt to breastfeed her, to feel my milk being drawn into her tiny body. The void in my life which had been caused by my wife's death had been instantly, completely filled by my baby girl, and I fell madly in love with her.

* * *

So that's how it all happened. My daughter is starting to fuss now, so I'm going to have to wrap this up and feed her again. You're probably wondering what my future holds? I've pretty much decided to go all the way with this womanhood thing, and to have the necessary surgery downstairs to complete my transformation. My daughter is going to grow up with both a father and a mother, but the fatherhood bit was completed a long time ago. My responsibilities as her mother are just beginning, and I think it's worth devoting the rest of my life to.