The Transition Dream free porn video

The Transition Dream Life has a way of throwing you challenges, and such is usually the case with challenges you don't always have time to prepare and find yourself off guard; but for me those challenges are usually the easiest. I think best on my feet. The challenges that get the most are the ones that you know are coming up, looming out there on the horizon. Because you can see this coming and you know you're going to need to deal with it but you're not sure how. There's too many variables! If this happens then should I do this? If I do that then this could happen, then what would I do? Well maybe do this? No, because then that would happen. Then you're finally in the middle of that challenge stuck and at a loss on what to do probably because you?ve already considered and rejected the solution you would have had immediately had the challenge been a surprise. So it's sort of ironic, I guess. Maybe not ironic-ironic but ironic in an Alanis Morrissett kind of way. It seems like irony but it's just a stupid coincidence. Still a good song, though. See, my whole life has pretty much has been filled with those looming challenges so I?ve pretty much been from one stressed out situation to the next; that is up until about 10 years ago when I met my husband and somehow he was able to make all of those challenges vanish; he was probably the first sane thing in my life that just made sense and brought my life finally into focus and brought me down the path I'm now on. But, of course, even when I was first with him I had those pesky challenges. We're you to look at me you'd think nothing of me, there's your perfectly average, middle-class, suburban mom. She works out of the home, she's happily married, has a child and somehow even when she's running to the community mailbox in nothing more than pajama pants and a popular-culture T-Shirt advertised on a Facebook feed she looks great. How does she do it? Well, not to toot my own horn, but it's not that hard but it certainly was to get to this point. You see, I'm a transgendered female. That's right, I was born male and though I genetically still am male I?ve converted my life into a female one both physically and legally and I?ve lived like this for fifteen years now and I never thought my life could be as good as this. I was born to your average family in your average part of America but hardly lived an average life through my childhood, always feeling like something was wrong but was never able to quite put my finger on it. My fist challenge. I suppose it was sometime during grade school where I found myself wondering more and more if I should have been a girl. Naturally my child's mind had never thought of or heard of transgenderism so I never knew it was a thing, I just liked being around girls more; I seemed to relate to them more and found them easier to talk to, grade-school girls are usually fairly easy to get along with and accepting for boys so long as they're not the mean and dirty ones; which I certainly wasn't. While the boys in my class were playing kickball, softball or other boy games during recess I was always with the girls; content to play hopscotch, jump-rope and stuff like that; this got me plenty of ridicule from the boys. There were probably more times I went home crying than not. The usual taunts, sissy, girly-boy, and some strong pejoratives for what they thought I was. I felt like I was girl on the inside but there was always still that part of me saying, "No, you're a boy," so I didn't like to be called a girl or to have my boyhood challenged. Talking with my parents and teachers about this they mostly brushed it off as a phase I was going through and it'd it all change once I started going to middle school and onwards. Well, they were right things did change but not for the better. It's funny what can happen to a kid over a summer vacation from school, particularly when you go from grade school filled with recess, a single classroom and there being virtually no social barriers. But once you start switching classes, have multiple peers during different parts of the day and now a gym class you have to change clothes during also during this time, children begin finding more of their sexuality and the gender divides begin. Those girls who were happy to play with you at recess begin to see you as more and more of an outside as their interest in boys begins to change to a different focus and those boys who teased you on the playground have put away they small guns and now go with the nuclear option. I had some friends during this time in my life there's always girls willing to have an unthreatening boy around and not all boys in their teens are complete jerks but I always felt like an outside and as I began to go through puberty and all of the changes really started coming to my male body I began to feel less and less comfortable in my own skin. I'd look at myself in the mirror and I hated the look of my face, the feeling of my skin, all of my body hair and I especially hated that stuff between my legs. Now, as my sexuality started up I certainly found myself more attracted to boys than girls and by this point I knew what homosexuality was, so maybe I was gay" But that didn't seem to fit. If I was gay that meant I liked boys, right" Then why did I not like being me" Why did I not like the look of my body and why did I hate having boy parts? So, I was probably beyond your average moody teenager as nothing in my life at the time made sense and it seemed nothing could make me happy. My parents took me to doctors and to see therapists and they were able to offer me some help but I was never fully open with them about my true feelings because I couldn't rationalize them to myself, how could I tell other people about them" I never dated in high-school, never went to prom, but I was able to concentrate on my school work and do well enough to get a decent scholarship to a state school and my parents were financially set enough to help with whatever the scholarship couldn't or didn't so off I went to a school a couple hundred miles away from my parents. I'd visit them during long school weekends and during the holidays, of course, but I was largely on my own and in college things really began to change for me, as they do for most young people. I didn't experiment with drugs, but I did experiment with some sex and was always left unsatisfied. Oh, I orgasmed, but it still somehow didn't feel right to me; I probably only had sex on a couple different occasions but between my emotional confusion, my concentrating on my studies and the always present risk of sexually transmitted diseases I didn't do it too much. This was in the late 1990s so right about the time this crazy new thing called "the Internet" started coming around and everyone was blown away by it, at this point having a computer was common and I certainly had one and it had a modem in it but I was never sure what I could use it for. Some boys in my high school talked about dialing into things call "bulletin boards" but I never found them of any real interest and not worth the trouble. But this internet thing seemed to be really the thing was totally new and revolutionary with a world full of information at your fingertips and so I joined the on-line community and it was here I finally found out what I was. Or who I was. Information sites, chat rooms and message boards all about this thing called "transgenderism" and there I found hundreds upon hundreds of people who felt just like me! Always feeling they were in the wrong body. I introduced myself to a chat-room one night and for the first time I felt accepted as everyone was nice to me and didn't question me or insult me as I spoke of my gender and sexuality confusions; one night another member asked to speak with me in a private chat, and I accepted. She was a woman who was born a man and she told me how much of my life to this point had mirrored her own and she saw something of a kinship in me and wanted to help. She didn't have the benefit of the internet growing up and she found herself lost for a large part of her adulthood as she forced herself to live the role of her assigned sex. She married a woman, she had children but none of it made her happy. None of it made her feel like she was who she was supposed to be, a suicide attempt eventually led her to checking herself into a psychiatric ward for treatment. There the psychiatrists she spoke to managed to get her to break down and spill out her feelings every moment of her life feeling wrong, it was that psychiatrist who told her about transgenderism and that they could explore if it applied to her. She told me how it was a rough ride that destroyed virtually every relationship she had, even with her parents and family members, but she felt she needed to do these things in order to finally be happy. And while she couldn't fully transition without changing her name on her relationship, annulling her marriage in her state, her wife while angry at first became supportive and a close friend. She said she's lived life as a woman for nearly 20 years at that point and she was in her late 30s when all of this happened, she wasn't in any relationship now and she wasn't sure she'd ever be; but she didn't want me to suffer the same path she did and felt that the best way to give her life real meaning was to help me out and get me to start changing my path now, when I was young, and I had all of the opportunities in the world to do it. In a couple weeks I had spoken to a psychiatrist and she listened to my stories, and experiences over several sessions, she was always asking me a lot of questions relating to my identity, my sexuality and feelings, my wants, hopes and desires. And she felt like a close friend who I could open up to and spill my heart out. I don't know how long it was, many months certainly over a school year, before she agreed that I suffered from transgenderism and she wanted to help me begin to transition my life to something I'd be more comfortable in. It'd be a very tough ride, and I had legal battles ahead but we could begin small now and have me try and to start living as a woman and begin taking some male hormone blockers and female hormone pills. I'd have to see her very, very regularly as well as another doctor who specialized in gender disorders to monitor my transition. The hardest part of it all, that challenge, was discussing this all with my parents. They ended up being very supportive and always felt that somewhere in me there must have been something that needed to come out to make me happy and be the person I was meant to be. For being a conservative, religious, couple they were accepting and helpful. As parents should be. They said they'd help me in every way they could in order to help me to be happy, they had the money to help with medicines, surgeries and so forth so I needn't concern myself with any of that. They wanted to help. They wanted me happy. As I began living in a female role I finally started feeling happier, and more comfortable in my life. It took me a lot of maintenance, makeup, padding, shaving, to make the look even slightly passable before the hormone manipulators had their changes take a noticeable effect. I had finally felt like I was my real self as I looked in the mirror and saw a woman looking back at me, well, sort of. It did take some time before that look in the mirror became one I was truly satisfied with, some laser hair removal, some plastic surgery on my face; I was somewhat fortunate that I began my transitioning before my bones had fully fused. Hormones only do so much, so I did get implants to make me a cup-size appropriate for my body type and height. It wasn't long after I had healed from the breast surgery that I began really living my life as a woman and started dating again, this time I felt more comfortable with men being around me, having them touch me, and me touching them. The softness of my skin, the weight and feeling of my breasts, it all felt right. Well not everything. Getting the final vaginoplasty is naturally the one surgery that's the hardest to get. Most other surgeries can be reversed or undone, implants can be removed, you can have more facial reconstruction, hormones can be rearranged with medication. But that vaginoplasty? That's permanent. Now, I knew I wanted one because I knew this is who I was meant to be and I did not like having that thing down there, but the expense of the surgery and getting the doctors to sign off on it just takes time and confidence. I had a couple serious relationships with men in my early 20s and the hardest part for me was telling them I was transgender, which I tried to do early in the relationship or when things felt like they were getting serious. I passed, fully, by this point the surgeries, hormones and some dedicated exercise made me look like any other pretty 20-something woman, but I knew I had to be honest because a relationship can only go so far if you can't be fully physical. Or honest. Guys mostly responded with some show of grace and respect, but said that they didn't think they could handle such a relationship because there was always that barrier and I'm sure they felt an "ick factor" in getting kissy and squishy with someone they perceived to be a man especially whenever an unwanted part of me became hard to ignore. There was a guy I was really close to once and I thought we had really hit it off but we got into a huge fight once because it didn't seem to me he was there for me emotionally, 100%. Granted this was when I was starting to go through HRT so there could have been a lot going on in my mind as opposed to reality but it really did seem this guy only wanted a physical relationship with me. During our last big blow up I screamed at him, "You're just dating me because you want to get into my pants!" He sneered at me, looked me up and down, and said, "You have nothing in there I want!" I smacked him really hard, stormed out of his apartment and never went back. Left behind a good deal of personal items, but nothing I couldn't replace. He tried reconnecting with me on social media recently, I didn't accept. But when I met the guy who would become my husband everything just felt different, it was on our second or third date when I told him about myself, what I was, and how I hadn't gotten the "final" surgery yet. He looked at me, smiled, and without much of a break he said, "That's fine, I have the same feelings for you no matter what. We can continue to pursue this relationship, because I don't want to give it up. I feel the connection between us." We dated for quite some time, it seeming to get progressively more passionate with each date and each kiss. Never once did he make me feel like anything less than a pure woman. He made my heart flutter, my mind race and my non-existent ovaries crave for his seed, it's the one thing I wished I could do for him, bring him a child. One night we were making out pretty hot and heavily on the couch in his living room, this was often how we ended our nights but it could only ever go so far for obvious reasons. It was more of a block for me than it was for him, I was still uncomfortable being fully intimate with him and there were only a couple of ways he could penetrate me and I wasn't comfortable with one of those ways, so most nights would end with me giving him a blow job. He'd always said he felt bad because he got his satisfaction, but I wasn't getting mine. I assured him I was fine, I got my satisfaction in other ways, usually just satisfying him was enough but there were times I had to resort to finishing things off for myself in private after he had left. It wasn't something I relished doing, it was too much a reminder of what I wasn't. But he left me so on fire it sometimes couldn't be helped. During one of our little sessions we were going at it on my bed and I began to make my progress to begin my finishing move, he was naked and I only had on my gaffe, underwear and whatever bottoms I was wearing that day (shorts, skirt, jeans, whatever) as I started to make my way down he stopped me. "No, not tonight. We can't keep ignoring your needs." He pulled me back up to his level and began kissing me passionately as he rolled be onto my back and started kissing me deeply, he worked his way down my neck and to my breasts, giving me plenty attention to my nipples which just drove me purely wild. He continued his way down and he slid down the bottoms I had on "What are you doing?" I asked. "Trust me," he said. My heart was pounding and racing, I didn't know what to think. He pulled down my underwear and gaff, the male anatomy between my legs came loose and asserted themselves. The hormones I was on had made things down there fairly small and unimpressive, rarely would I get rock- hard like I would when I was purely male. Best I could manage was a semi. It didn't really bother me, even though it did make it hard for me to fully get mine when I tried for it. He began kissing my penis tenderly, stroking it gently with his hands, its own skin softened by my female hormones, and he began to go down on me. He gave me a blow job. I couldn't believe it. I'd never had one before, it wasn't something I ever even thought I wanted because I figured the only way to get one was to be in a homosexual relationship either as my male self or as female self. What straight guy is going to suck his girlfriend's dick? The perfect guy, is who. He gave me the best blow job ever which, I guess, means little since it was my first one but I couldn't see anyone before him doing anything different, he even swallowed whatever passed for my ineffective seed. I was flabbergasted and didn't know what to make of it, he'd later told me he just thought of it as my clit and treated it as such, even though I'm not sure you can deep-throat a woman's clit. He said he only thought of me as a woman so he didn't mind doing this and he didn't feel this spoke about his own sexuality. He wanted to please the woman he loved. After that night, our sexual activities really opened up and we became progressively more and more wild in bed he made me feel more and more comfortable with the male remains of my body as she showed himself more and more willing to let me use it in our night time sessions. He allowed me to penetrate him on occasion, as I had opened up to him I always wanted to try it and know what it felt like, we did 69s, frottage everything we could think of. We were intimate with each other in ways neither of us imagined we'd be with another person. When it finally came time to have my big surgery he was completely behind me and with me every moment he could be, he was at my side pre-op and post-op, loving and caring for me tenderly as I healed. When I was fully healed we were quick to want to give the new equipment a test-drive and as good as he made me felt when I had male equipment down there, he made me see fireworks when I was a woman down there. I know with the rearrangement of the sensitive areas down there, the loss of my ability to cum, and being penetrated made lots of things work differently, and I was more likely to be able to have multiple orgasms, I never dreamed what it'd all feel like. He continued to treat me like the woman I was meant to be and the woman I was. Going down on me and giving me the full female experience. I did now have to use a strap-on for him, he said that him being penetrated like that give him feelings he liked too given the internal sensitivity men have that cannot be accessed any other way. I thought no less of him. Plenty of heterosexual couples engaged in swapped roles during sex. With my surgeries out of the way I could now fully changed my gender on my birth-certificate to "female" and we could get married. That technically could have all happened before given the laws in our area only required a path/intent of a change in gender to actually change it legally and a Supreme Court decision allowing for same-sex marriages meant we could marry no matter what. But it was something I was firm on. I wanted to be female of the body 100% before I made that change and I only wanted to marry him as a female. My family accepted me and was supportive of me through my transition and were happy when I brought home to them a male fianc? who loved and supported me and knew who and what I was. His family was something else entirely, I met them over a Thanksgiving holiday when I still had my male parts. I stayed with him and his family that week as mine had taken a cruise and they didn't seem entirely accepting of me. He said he'd told them that he was dating someone but hadn't told them everything about me yet, knowing how they'd likely react. I wasn't happy since I wasn't 100% confident they wouldn't see through me and the holiday weekend didn't seem like the ideal time for this stuff to come out, but he told me he'd handle it. His parents were very welcoming to me at first but after spending a few hours with them that first night I sort-of felt them growing a bit colder or seemingly more suspicious of me, asking me more personal questions about my childhood and I swear their pronouns slipped a couple times. Nothing really came out that weekend but when we left after the holiday they felt "colder" towards me. I'd find out a couple days later from him that they'd spoken to him afterwards wanting to know more about me and, specifically, about him and his sexuality. They obviously didn't understand, and weren't too accepting but also sort-of took a "he's an adult, what can we do?" approach. By the time that Christmas came around I went home with him again mostly out of convenience to where his parents lived verses mine, we'd spend the holidays there over New Year's. I wasn't comfortable at all given that they now knew and weren't completely on board with me but he said he'd always have my back and would get them to accept me. I needed to be myself and show them my true self. His parents seemed to be putting on their best fa?ade but it wasn't holding up, I had gone to bed early one night that weekend and he stayed up with his folks, I could over hear them talking down the hall about me, his parents spoke very concerned for him and seemed to almost be making it a point to use male pronouns about me. He was quick to shut them down and insist upon them I was a woman and that's how saw me and how he felt about me he loved me and that wasn't changing. He told them they needed to see past their own prejudices and see the person in me and the person I showed myself to be. But he wasn't ending our relationship because they disapproved so they either needed to be nicer and accepting to me or get used to not seeing him that much anymore. It still took some more time after that, but by the next holiday season I think they'd grown to know me more and hear their son's feelings more and the more they saw me, the more we visited, they eventually did grow to see me for who I am. I love the relationship I have with my in-laws now, they truly do treat me as their daughter now. We got a house together in the suburbs and began our life together, sharing and working for something and wanting to stabilize our lives before pursuing the notion of children. We were in good enough careers that it didn't take long; but we did enjoy a couple years of child-free lives before we sought having children. We wrestled how we wanted to go about it. I had some of my own semen collected and stored before I began the route to not producing it; I don't know why saved it but I felt the need to, so we looked into ways to combine our semen into a surrogate ova and mother, at the time it was scientifically plausible and laws allowed for human experimentation when didn't want to go that route. It didn't feel right. We thought of going with a surrogate, we'd make one child with his sperm and eventually one with mine, but that didn't feel right to us either. Why create another child for the world to support when there's millions of them out there in need" So we adopted. We were lucky to live in a fairly liberal state that was okay with a transsexual being a guardian in an adoption and we both made good enough money, lived in a nice enough area and have a nice enough home that there was little to disqualify us from getting a child for adoption. We were asked for what we were looking for, it didn't feel right to be picking out a child like we were picking out a new car; so we said we were open to a child of any race or gender, we did prefer an infant. We met with a pregnant woman giving birth to a mixed-race girl, the father was almost completely out of the picture and couldn't be reached and she otherwise didn't have the means to support the child. She was personally against abortion so she felt this was the best route to go by. We accepted the agreement and would take her child home shortly after delivery, we told her if she wanted to be part of the child's life she could be as an aunt or other relative. She smiled and said she may consider our offer down the road, should the child ever question who her real parents were. The mother was also fully aware of situation and she thought it was a great thing for the two of us to do. To want to be parents and to be parents to a child in need of some rather than creating one from our own genetic material. We figure somewhere down the road we may still do that, but right now we felt we needed to do the world a favor and care for a child in need. We raised our daughter with all of the love and care in the world, giving her everything we could provide. We both had pretty good jobs and careers, a nice American upper-middle class lifestyle, so we had plenty to offer or child. The world around us wasn't 100% in our favor as it's pretty uncommon to see two Caucasian people with a mixed-race child and my gender identity only made things that much "worse" for want of a better word. I didn't necessarily go around advertising the story of my gender identity, but neither I nor my husband were ashamed of it and felt it was something we should hide from people. I guess there were still some "tells" with me and there were times we'd be asked and were always open and honest about it. By and large most people were understanding and thought it was great what we had, how found each other, and how my husband stood by me. We did have some detractors, however, a handful of neighbors who snubbed us and had their children snub our child. There's still a lot that needs to be done in our world about ignorance. But if you want to ignore me because who I am, fine. I have enough friends. But to take it out on my child is just disgusting. There came a time when our daughter, Alana, was getting old enough to realize and understand the differences in gender just as the other children her age were. It was the summer before she was to start the first-grade and we felt she should know my history, she had yet to hear any rumors or anything from her peers about me but the older she got the meaner kids tended to get, so we felt she should hear it from us instead of her classmates. We went to her bedroom as she was playing quietly by herself, knocked on the door jamb and I said, "Honey, mommy and daddy have something important to tell you, okay?" She smiled and said, "Okay!" and jumped up and trotted after us as we went into the living room. My husband and I had made ourselves some coffee to drink and set out a plate of some cookies and milk for her and told her to sit down with; we sat on the couch, closely, and holding one another she sat in a child's seat we brought out to her, allowing her to sit opposite us. I don't know why I was so nervous, I was just talking to a six-year-old child here, someone who loves me dearly and would never reject me; but I was still jittery. "What is it mommy and daddy?" she asked as she picked up one of the Oreos and began to twist the cookie apart to dunk the pieces in milk. I looked at her and clasped my hands together, looked into her eyes, and said, "Well, honey, daddy and I wanted to tell you something before you go to school next week; because you need to know this before someone else tells you." "I already know you and daddy didn't make me, mommy. You got me from someone who couldn't take care of me." We smiled and looked at her, my husband; "Yes, honey. But this is about something different." "What I wanted to tell you dear, is that mommy was born a boy." My heart was pounding as I awaited a response; I was sure what to expect her to do or say as my mind went all over the place. It felt like several minutes had passed before she responded but I'm sure it was instantaneous. "What do you mean mommy?" she asked with all of the innocence of a child. "Well, honey, mommy was born a boy. And as I grew up I began feeling more like I was a girl inside; so I went to see some doctors and they gave me some medicine that helped me to look more like a girl." "Did daddy know you were a boy?" My husband smiled and responded, "Yes, I did, dear. Your mommy told me on one of our first dates and I didn't care. Because when I saw her I saw a girl, and a girl I really loved. I saw the person she was and that's who I loved." "Do you have boy parts or girl parts, mommy?" We had taught her the basics of human anatomy and differences in sexes; nothing too complex or outside of her years. She didn't know specifically how babies were made, just that it has something to do with the differences between boys and girls between the legs. "Well, mommy was born with boy parts but when I was older I was able to get doctors to give me girl parts, a more girlish face and they gave me special medicine that helped me to look more like a girl. Here look at this?" I took her hand and guided her to feel the skin and hairs on my arm and then had her feel the same on my husband, "See, how daddy's arm sort of feels rough and his hair all prickly, and mommy's skin and hair is smooth and soft?" "Yeah." "Well the special medicine I took helped me to have skin like a girl instead of a boy." "Why did you want to be a girl mommy?" "It wasn't exactly like that, honey. I didn't want to be a girl, I knew I was a girl and I wanted by body to look like a girl's body. When I looked like a boy, I would wake up every day, look in a mirror and see someone who I didn't think was me." "How did you know?" "I just did honey, it's hard to explain. But sometimes when you look in a mirror and you look at your reflection you can just tell if you're looking at you or someone else, and I felt like I was looking at someone else. But when I was changed I started seeing me in the mirror." 'so, is that why you and daddy had to buy me?" I smiled a bit and looked at her. "Honey, we didn't buy you. We brought you home to be ours and to take care of you and love you. Don't think of it as being like when you buy a doll. But, yes, that's why we adopted you. Because they can make me look like a girl, but they can't make my insides work like a girl's, that's why I take special medicine otherwise my body would try turning me back into a boy." Which I knew wasn't strictly true, without my testicles there'd be no good source of testosterone so I'd more become a eunuch than male, but we needn't get that complicated with her. She seemed to be understanding it all. "Mommy, can I be a boy if I want to be?" My husband and I looked at one another and smiled again. "Well, honey, yes. But it's not about wanting to be a boy, you have to really feel like you're a boy. Do you feel like you're a boy?" She seemed to think about it for a moment and said, "Well, I guess not. I like playing with dollies and pretty colors. So I guess I'm a girl." My husband and I tried not to enforce gender stereotypes on her like "boy colors and girl colors, boy toys and girl toys," but I guess some things are just absorbed through the ether of society. "Well, then, you're probably a girl then. But if you felt like you were a boy and you really wanted it, like wanted more than you want anything else in the world. More than you want your favorite toy, or your favorite dinner, more than you want to be with your mommy and daddy. Then you could become a boy, and there are some boys out there who used to be girls." "Did you use to be a girl daddy?" My husband laughed. "No honey. I was born a boy." "Honey, we told you this because we didn't want kids at school telling you this. We wanted you to hear it from us. And not everyone is nice to people when they change themselves; so not everyone is nice to your mommy, so we want you to hear it from people who love you. And if anybody tries to make you feel bad about your mommy you tell them that you love your mommy and then don't talk to them anymore, okay?" She nodded. "And try and not to tell anyone, okay." "Is it a secret?" "No, not really. But we just don't tell people unless they ask or we think it is important for them to know. Okay?" "Okay." A moment passed. Our daughter got up and came over to be and gave me a big hug. "I'm glad you wanted to be a girl mommy, because you make a pretty mommy and I love you." I teared up a bit as I hugged her back. My husband gave her a soft hug to and a kiss on the cheek. After that talk things went along normally and it pretty much never came up again; it was also on that night that my husband and I decided to find a surrogate mother for his seed so he can have a biological child. "If we can arrange it, I want you to impregnate her naturally, I want you to feel a real woman, baby." Yes, I was his first. He shook his head and looked down at me. "You're all the real woman I need, honey. We can let the turkey baster impregnate the mother." I smiled and looked at him, I loved this man. And I'm happy to have found him, and to have such a great life filled with love and being the woman I was born to be.