What I Thought I Knew: A Memoir Read Online Free PDF Page B

from me. On the ultrasound screen I watched the sonographer enter measurements of the baby’s limbs and head. He cheerfully pointed out the baby’s penis on the screen, and produced an estimated due date.
    Two days later Dr. Slotkin called with the test results.
    “The fetus is genetically female but anatomically male.”
    “I don’t understand.”
    “She has a double X chromosome and male anatomy.”
    “. . . She’s a girl with a penis?”
    “Yes.”
    “Why? Why does . . . why does she have a penis?”
    “I don’t know. It’s very unusual.”
    The shock of carrying a girl with a penis tricked me momentarily into thinking I was hearing difficult news about an ordinary pregnancy. Then I remembered how bizarre every aspect of this pregnancy was.
    “Does this make it legal to get a late-term abortion?”
    “No. It’s not necessarily a health concern, so it doesn’t meet the state requirements for late-term abortion. I would like you to see Dr. Katzen, a pediatric urologist surgeon who has experience with ambiguous genitalia.”

The Surgeon
    Dr. Katzen proudly turned the pages of his portfolio. “Here are twins Jerome and Joshua.”
    Photo of two baby boys, as macho as two infants in blue onesies can be.
    “Turn the page. Jerome and Joshua are now . . . Jessica and Janice!”
    In this photo, the babies are now in pink dresses, looking très femme.
    Dr. Katzen looked across his desk to make sure Michael and I were suitably impressed. We nodded, speechless. Sketching on pink Post-it notes, he enthusiastically showed us how he could create a sexual metamorphosis with a scalpel and needle. He was a veritable Michelangelo of the pediatric operating table, a baby’s genitals his virgin slab of marble. He could cosmetically sculpt our baby’s two-inch penis into a compact little clitoris.
    “Won’t she lose sexual sensation?” I asked, my voice suddenly hoarse, a shudder running the length of my body. I grabbed Michael’s hand, which was cold and shaky. He didn’t want to be here. He was here because I’d asked him to come. “Can’t we just wait till our baby is born and see what happens?” he’d said, but I didn’t think I could handle any more surprises.
    On a blue Post-it, the surgeon drew a picture of the long nerve that runs the length of a penis. Then on a pink Post-it he drew that same two-and-a-half-inch nerve, neatly folded multiple times, to fit in her new, improved, half-inch clitoris. “By preserving the nerve, we are able to preserve sexual sensation and optimize adult sexual function.”
    “Wow, wow, wow!” I said, shuddering again, imagining how it must feel to have the nerve that transmits sexual sensation folded up and sewn into a teeny satchel, and I shuddered again when I imagined the doctor sneezing and missing just when he was adding the final trim.
    Dr. Katzen sketched some more, on gender-neutral yellow Post-its, to show us how he could create a functional vagina in our baby, should hers be missing.
    “Wow!” What else could I say to the surgeon who promised he could turn my baby’s penis into a clitoris, and fabricate a vagina into my vagina-less little girl.
    “Have you done many of these surgeries?” I ask.
    “No. Just a few. As many as any surgeon has. Genital ambiguity is extremely rare.”
    “Is surgery always recommended?” Michael asked.
    “The American Medical Association recommends corrective surgery for children with ambiguous genitalia.” Katzen’s face darkened. “However, the transgender activists are against it. They abhor the term normalcy . They say surgery robs them of their unique gender identity and diminishes sexual sensation. They think every child with ambiguous genitals should have the privilege of saying, ‘It’s my body, it’s not like anybody else’s body, and I like it the way it is.’ Which is total bullshit! How is a twelve-year-old boy without a penis going to feel when the other boys taunt him in the locker room? How will a teenage