A Motherless Mother

        I was given an assignment by my therapist to write a juxtaposition essay on the mother figures I grew up with and the mother I am today. What is a mother? Mother: (n) a woman in relation to her child, (v) bring up a child with care and affection, (v) give birth to. My mother gave birth to me but she did not provide me with the essentials necessary to raise a happy, healthy child. Saying that means I’m admitting this to myself for the first time and it feels like a dagger in my heart.
        I was nervous to write this knowing it would bring up heavy emotions. I absolutely love going to therapy and it’s the best investment I’ve ever made in myself. When I began writing this letter it all came pouring out onto the paper and I realized by the end of it something monumental for me. I TRULY DO LOVE MYSELF AND I FINALLY BELIEVE THAT I AM A GREAT MOTHER. 31 years it’s taken me to come to the first realization and 5 years it’s taken me to come to the second. My mama always said, “Better late than never.” and in this context, I couldn’t agree more.
        I want to be clear that I did not write this letter to bring up any bad feelings for my loved ones that I’ve mentioned in the essay. I kept names out of it to respect them. I don’t want to hurt any feelings but this is my story and if you played a role in it, you’re part of my healing process too. My wish is that we can all find our happiness and be free. ♥️

Growing up without a positive mother figure and the mother it has shaped me into today.

Every child needs a mother. I often wonder if growing up with a mother who was an addict, in and out of my life, made it harder on me than if I were to have no mother at all. The constant worrying if she was alive, the time spent waiting by the house phone on Wednesdays to see if she would at least call on her day to have me, the wishing I could have her all to myself when I watched her mother her boyfriend’s kids, and more than anything, the constant yearning for her love and attention. I wondered why she wanted to be a mom to both of her ex’s kids instead of using her time to be a mother to my brother and I. It broke my heart. Most girls experience their first heartbreak from their first crush… my first heartbreak was my mother and even in death, she’s the biggest heartache of my life. I could have never told her this when she was alive because I did everything in my power to never hurt her and to protect her from hurt that men caused her and our family too. I’ve never defended anyone more.

         In my early years of life, I spent a lot of time with my paternal grandparents because my dad was raising me as a single father while having full custody of me. He needed help from his parents with childcare so my Grandma and Grandpa stepped up to the plate and made sure that we didn’t go without. I’m forever grateful for them. My dad and I would go to Michigan some summers to be with our family when I was around 4 or 5 years old; those are my earliest memories of my childhood with my dad’s side of the family. When I was 3 I remember vividly when my dad and I moved into our house on Plata Circle. My maternal grandmother and Aunt, helped out a lot with taking care of me as well from what I am told by my family but I have no memories of being with them until I was about 6 or 7 years old. My earliest memory is of my mom when I was 2 years old. We went to her friend’s house and my mom was wearing a light blue tank top with white boxers that had light blue polka dots on them. I remember it so clearly. Why do our memories work this way? Where did all the memories go of the time I actually spent with my mom? I would trade hundreds of memories just to have a few with her to hold onto. Instead, I “know” my childhood from seeing old photographs.

During these years of my childhood I experienced betrayal after betrayal from every woman I called family and had as a role model to look up to. The first person to betray my trust was my mother. She chose men over me, their children and her friends too. She lied to me about men and using drugs. It wasn't until she passed away that I learned the magnitude of her addiction and her lifestyle. The second betrayal came from my Aunt, when she physically abused me by slapping and punching me on two separate occasions, ages 9 and 15. It went on to condoning stealing from me and attempting to prosecute me as well. Lastly, she kicked me out of our family home while I was pregnant with nowhere to go. All the rage from years of these fights being swept under the rug came pouring out. Mixing my anger with grief and heartbreak following my grandmother’s death, lead to 3 more years of no communication with Aunt until my mom died. The third betrayal came from my Grandmother, my mother’s mother. Through the turmoil that went on between my Aunt and I, my Grandmother always chose her side knowing damn well that it was wrong. Now that she is gone, I really regret never being able to ask her why she would do that to her granddaughter? It still breaks my heart. It seems like all of my family forgot that I was the little girl needing her mom and needing that role fulfilled desperately. They were so busy being hurt and angry at my mom for her choices that they took it out on me. The fourth betrayal was from my now ex-stepmom who stole my identity when I was 17 and again when I was in my early 20’s. You don’t do that to anyone, let alone someone you claim to love and call family. I couldn’t prosecute her because if I did, my little brother and sister would lose their mother. I couldn’t make them feel a pain I knew too well. I chose to let my stepmom get away with what she did to me. I didn’t like her from the day I met her and never could respect her as a person. In the 17 years that my dad was with her, we never deeply bonded, I never called her mom and I always wished my dad had never met her. The fifth and last betrayal from family was another Aunt. From stories and photos, I know that we enjoyed each other when I was little but we have clashed ever since. When I was a teenager spending summers in Michigan we would argue and she would involve my grandparents and my dad, ultimately having them take her side. When I was 24 we got into a fight over family reunion t-shirts going up in cost by $3 because she thought I was lying and planning to keep the money for myself. Even with proof from the vendor she didn’t believe me and while it hurt my feelings, it made me furious that my own blood would question my character in such a way. It’s been 7 years… she didn’t call me when my son was born or when my mother died. Even as I’m writing this and reliving it all in my mind, I am blown away. HOW THE HELL DOES FAMILY TREAT EACH OTHER THIS WAY?!

I was 25 years old when I got pregnant and I vowed to my baby that I would never let him see or experience the things that I had growing up. I was 26 when I gave birth and the second he was placed on my chest I realized what my purpose in life was. I was born to be his mama. Nothing and no one would come before him or between us. He would never see his dad and I arguing or have to hear any of my family yelling. He would never have to wonder where I was or if he was important enough for me to be there for him. He would never be exposed to drugs or any men in and out of my life. He would get to have dates with his mama and experience trips with both of his parents. He would get to have family traditions and never feel lonely or torn between two families. He would not only hear “I love you more than life itself” but he would know it deep in his soul without a doubt in his mind, I am 5 years into this motherhood journey and all of the things I vowed to do for the emotional and physical well-being of my son, I have done. I am proud of the mother I am!

The experiences I had with all of the mother figures in my life shaped me into the mother I am today. I overcame so much adversity and during that process, I learned what I will and what I will not do as a mother and as a person in general. I spent my entire young adult years being broken, angry, sad, mean, vengeful, jealous, heartbroken and lost. I didn’t have the tools or guidance to work through all of the heavy emotions on my own or the knowledge to know better than to behave and treat people the way I did. I was 25 and pregnant when I decided to change because I wanted to be a person my son could be proud of and more than anything, I wanted to be a person that I could be proud of. At this point in my life, I am realizing through hard work in therapy that my mother, Aunts, ex-stepmom and Grandmother were all doing the best they knew how to with the tools they were given in their upbringing. This sheds light on how imperative it is to break the cycle of “doing as you’re taught” because we are capable of growth and learning to be better people and better parents. We need to remeber that it is our responsibility as parents to our babies to raise them in a way that they won't have to recover from their childhood. There’s no excuse for staying stagnant and not evolving into your best, most kind self. I always wanted to love myself and I finally am learning how to. My determination to be my best self will never fade away.

- A motherless mother


       I am like my mother in so many ways. When I laugh I can hear her, when I walk I can feel her, when I look in the mirror I can see her, when I go to sleep at night it’s just like she used to. Were those learned behaviors I picked up on or were they woven into my soul from the womb? There’s no way to know but I’ll take those bits of magic and cherish them forever. I didn’t get near as much time with her as I wish I had but I am thankful for her presence in my world. After all, she helped me become the mother I am today and for that, I am forever grateful.