As far as families with a trans person in them go, mine is pretty damn lucky. Despite being out there in the news and on social media telling our story, we haven't encountered a whole lot of ignorance, discrimination or hate.

That is, until last week.

Last week saw the news of Lila Perry, a 17-year-old trans girl in Missouri who wanted to use the girls' washrooms and change rooms in her high school, only to painfully watch over 100 of her fellow students stage a walkout in protest. They were worried about the safety and comfort of cisgender girls with a "boy" in their midst.

I said something on Twitter in Lila's defense, which must have ruffled some extreme right wing feathers. Within hours, my feed was flooded with everything from simple disagreement (which is fine by me - I love a good discussion) to anti-LGBT slurs and name-calling (which is never fine.)

I was called names I won't repeat, and so was my child. I was told I would burn in hell. I was sent really hateful memes. I used the "block" and "mute" buttons liberally for several days until the chaos died down a little. It was pretty intense.

Meanwhile, a post I had written about our family for a large online publication went live. This isn't the first time we've told our story and certainly not the first time people have disagreed with our decision to support Alexis' transition. But I had a good feeling about this one. I assumed the readership was largely liberal and open-minded, so things should go fairly well.

In keeping with the week I was having, things did not go fairly well. It's nice when the universe aims for consistency.

To put it simply, we were torn to shreds several times over.

My daughter was repeatedly misgendered, called a "confused little boy" and "severely mentally ill," among other lovely comments.

Meanwhile, I was a terrible mother for supporting her, I should have taken her to get assessed to make sure she's really trans and not just looking for attention (?!), don't I understand biology at all, puberty blockers are too dangerous, and I'm screwing her up for life by following the latest overly-permissive parenting craze.

I'll admit it: while this shit doesn't normally bother me very much, having it all happen at once became overwhelming. I wanted to crawl in a hole where the Wi-Fi reception is horrible and never see the internet again. People are cruel, I hate the world, I just want to hug my kids, leave me alone and let's order a large pizza so you guys can watch me eat the whole thing.

And that's pretty much how I spent my weekend.

Look, I'm not stupid. I know this is a hot button issue. It's still very misunderstood, and by putting ourselves out there in the media, we become targets for hate and ignorance. We could have taken the quieter route, but we chose not to. This reaction is one of the consequences of that.

But if we want the world to be a safe and accepting place for Alexis, we need to help make it that way. This is why I write for publications, give interviews and do presentations. It's why I often shut up and just listen to a community that was largely mocked and silenced up until recently. I want to learn from them, and I want to take what I learn and teach it. This is important, life-saving stuff.

So I had my little pity party, thought about quitting this advocacy business and running off to an island with a large chocolate supply, had myself a really good cry or two, accepted hugs and love from family and friends, and then I got back up.

Here I am.

But if there's one thing I didn't do even once, it was question if supporting Alexis' transition is the right thing to do. And here's why.

If my child had been diagnosed with an illness like cancer or diabetes, and we followed the medical guidelines set out by professionals with years of experience in the treatment of said illness, how many people would tell us we were wrong for doing so - even if some of those treatments carry risks?

Very few, if any. Why? Because we know those treatments save lives.

My child was diagnosed with gender dysphoria. Look it up; it's a real thing.

Medical specialists who work extensively in the field of gender issues made that diagnosis.

The treatment my child receives (puberty blockers only at this time) is in line with the worldwide medical guidelines for the treatment of juvenile gender dysphoria.

Like most medical treatments, these do carry a certain amount of risk.

But not treating those children leads to the very real risk of self-harm. The suicide rate is astronomical in unsupported and untreated transgender youth and adults (estimated 20-30%). Trans people are much more likely to die when they do not get the help they need from their families and the medical community.

But despite all of these facts, people still feel the need to question the diagnosis, question the doctors, question the therapists, question the parents, and - worst of all - question, belittle and mock the children who are already dealing with so much.

So basically, if it's new to people and makes them uncomfortable, it's not real. Seems legit.

The recent data is clear as day, and it keeps coming in:

Emotionally and medically supporting transgender children SAVES LIVES.

Telling them they're confused, sending them to therapy to "fix them" and refusing them medical treatment TAKES LIVES.

Period.

If a child has type 1 diabetes, you give them insulin to keep them alive and happy.

If a child is transgender, you support them to live as the gender they identify as to keep them alive and happy. It's really that simple.

But until people stop seeing trans as a lifestyle choice, they will keep thinking they know more than the families and experts who support those children.

So to the naysayers who continue to tell us we're wrong, I say the following:

Having an opinion on something does NOT make you a medical expert.

Reading some internet articles does NOT make you a medical expert.

Having strong religious beliefs does NOT make you a medical expert.

And if you are not standing with trans people, their allies and the experts in this field, learning along with us and doing your best to understand, your opinion isn't going to be very valid to me. I will not let your views muddy the waters of the good we're trying to do here.

So you can keep shouting them at me, but they won't change my mind. Instead, I encourage you to listen to our stories, ask questions, ask for good resources, and learn something.

If you could stop trying to drown her out with hateful words, you would see my daughter has a lot to teach you.

So to those who object, thank you for reminding me that there is still so much work to do, and to take care of myself so I can do it. You have strengthened my resolve, and reminded me that I am one kick ass mom to one kick ass girl.

I owe you one.