‘My husband became a woman – I love her, but miss him’

Stephanie Hayton, 54, was happy with her family life, then her hubby made a confession that turned everything upside down

Plonking ourselves down, my husband David and I flicked open our books. ‘That’s brilliant,’ he said, pointing at my science-fiction novel. ‘No spoilers!’ I laughed. I loved how David was shy and geeky like me, with a wide smile beneath his mop of brown hair.

We loved to read side by side as we got lost in tales of robots and Martians. We were studying physics at university and David told me I was his perfect woman. ‘Beautiful and a scientist,’ he’d say. In January 1992, when we were studying for our PhDs, I was delighted when David proposed.

We had a traditional wedding and invited 150 guests. It was a perfect day. We both wanted children and had a daughter and two sons together. David worked as a science teacher in Birmingham where we lived, and I soon became a teacher too.

But when we’d been married 18 years, in 2011, I noticed a change in David. He seemed to have something weighing on his mind. Then, one day, he sat me down and said, ‘I feel like I’m a woman born in a man’s body.’ His words sent my head into a spin. I listened numb with shock, then my thoughts immediately turned. to our children who were all under the age of 14. Focusing on them was the only way I could cope with this bombshell David had dropped on our otherwise normal, traditional family life.

But as the months went by, David became distracted and stopped looking after himself. He was bedraggled and on edge, while I was walking on eggshells. Over a year after his confession, we were both stuck in a tense sort of limbo. Something had to give and then David began feeling suicidal. I was desperately worried about him, but I was exhausted too, trying to keep life safe and stable for our three kids.

We went for marriage guidance, but the counsellor seemed as clueless as us about what to do. Then David made a life-changing decision – to begin living as Debbie. He circled a day on the calendar, then began letting his hair grow for when he became she. We explained to the kids what was going to happen. ‘It’s OK to keep calling Debbie Dad,’ we told them. Then we told everyone else. Everyone seemed to take it in their stride, but my own feelings were in turmoil.

David joined online trans chat groups and the message was that if I loved him, I’d understand. I was even told to take David shopping for women’s clothes. David got support from our understanding friends and community. It felt like I had no say, yet I still loved the person I married and didn’t want to leave. Most of all, I didn’t want my kids to have to go through a divorce.

So, David became Debbie and began living as a woman, changing his name on all official documents. I felt like I was goodbye to my husband, even though it was the same person beside me. At least our PhDs meant we didn’t have to worry about being Mr or Mrs – we’re both Dr – and Debbie was happy to use ‘he’ and ‘him’ when describing her life as David.

One Sunday, I went to church with Debbie for the first time. People were mostly welcoming, if bit confused about what to say.

‘Gay marriage is OK now,’ someone said cheerfully. ‘Actually, I’m not gay,’ I replied. Debbie wasn’t my wife. She just wasn’t my husband anymore. So I settled on calling her my spouse. Because one thing hadn’t changed – we were still married.

But after months of our world being turned upside down, I was tired of everything revolving around Debbie’s identity. ‘What about me?’ I demanded. ‘If you want a family, you can’t just do what you want.’ I threatened to leave and it was a wake-up call for Debbie. ‘I’m sorry,’ Debbie said. ‘I don’t want to lose you.’

After that she made an effort to listen to what I wanted too. The big conversation was about when she’d have gender-reassignment surgery. I said I wasn’t ready for that and neither were the children, so she agreed to wait. We both went to see a psychiatrist to discuss how this surgery would affect the kids – that was my biggest worry. ‘Children don’t have an interest in their parents’ genitals,’ the doctor said, putting my mind at rest. So on Valentine’s Day, 2016, in our 23rd year of marriage, Debbie went to hospital for surgery, both excited and scared at the prospect of reshaping her genitals. My feelings were more complicated as I tapped out the simple truth. Hope it all goes OK, I wrote. After four hours of surgery, Debbie woke up with a changed body. Eventually, my phone pinged with a text from her that read: Hiya. I love you.

She was discharged a few days later but the day she came home, I took her to A&E – her bladder was blocked so her groin became swollen and she couldn’t pee. When she recovered, Debbie was much happier and I started coming to terms with how my relationship had changed forever. I grieved for David, but I was married to Debbie now.

Soon, our silver wedding anniversary was looming. ‘We have to celebrate it,’ I told Debbie. ‘Absolutely,’ she agreed. So we ordered some cakes and drinks, and invited all our friends to the party. Debbie looked well, topping up everyone’s glasses as we enjoyed a relaxed day together.

In my wedding photos from 25 years earlier, I was standing beside David. Now I was celebrating our big anniversary with Debbie and I still loved her. When I vowed at the altar to stay wed until death us do part, I meant it.

Eight years later, I’m used to people assuming we’re a gay couple when they see us together. I’m not attracted to women, so our relationship is no longer an intimate one. Debbie is still the best friend that I married, though – the other parent to our children.

But I miss husband my sometimes. And when Debbie wrote a book about her life called Transsexual Apostate, she asked me to write the last chapter, which seemed fitting really. Despite everything, we have managed to build a happy ending.

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Stephanie Hayton

As told to Sharon Wright and Lucy Laing.

* This piece was first published by Bella on 10 September 2024: ‘My husband became a woman – I love her, but miss him’.