On love and absence

I want to start this out by saying that I've been wanting this for a long time, and that I'm so VERY happy I've made it. I also want to say that I'm recovering quite well; I catch myself staring at myself in the bathroom, admiring even how well this has gone for me. At first, when the bandages came off last Friday, I wasn't sure. It looked hideous, a pale and strange attempt and forming genitalia. I had to take a minute of studying myself to see even what was supposed to be what. And some of it had to be explained by the nurse. I had to remind myself that many surgeries don't resemble their final product at first, and the complex nature of this particular surgery. Now, with each passing day my labia and clitoris shrink as the swelling fade. I can see the finished product much better, though it may be several more weeks before I am healed completely. And I am so very happy.

That all said, this has been so incredibly hard. I fell in love - HARD - with the woman of my dreams right before my trip. We had grown so incredibly close to each other in that short amount of time, that I knew our separation would be a trying moment. We both stood there at the airport, crying for as many minutes as security would let her park the car in a loading zone, before we finally stepped out. "I love you," was the last thing we said to each other.

I'm grateful for technology. It's let me write this blog. It's also let me call and e-mail her whenever i can. Yet it has its limits. We still cannot touch each other...we cannot hold each other like we want to, to fall asleep in each others' arms. It has given us so much, and yet it's becoming very clear that these weeks are the longest weeks of our lives. And we still have one more.

I love you, Elizabeth. I love you more than I can put into words. Just a little more, baby. We're almost there. I'm almost home. And absence makes the heart grow fonder. Stay strong, my sweet.