Now A Grown Up

As a little girl, I played with baby dolls just like most girls. I would do their hair, even make clothes from old socks. During that time, I thought of how I would treat my children when I was older. How I would care for them, dress them and I even talked to them with such love.

I didn’t factor in a husband because you didn’t have one. You liked it that way. It was my normal, in turn it would be my children’s normal. Growing up in a fatherless home. Most Mother’s don’t have the option of deciding if the Father is involved, you did. You made sure that my Father had as little to do with our upbringing as possible aside from the financial assistance he provided.

When I got a little older, I abandoned my dolls. I would take a interest when they were new and pretty. But, once I was use to them, they laid in a pile with the rest I had forgotten. When I got older, I felt like you treated me this way. I was not new and shinny anymore; or even felt pretty. I had a younger sibling that took more than I even had and stole the light I once thought I had.

Memories are a funny thing. See, you are not my first memory. This you may not know. My first memory is of Nanny. Rocking me in her chair. All I remember is feeling safe and loved. I still think of that time quite often when I feel unloved. Before I became a Mother, all I wanted is for my children to feel this way about me. Just like the protection of Nanny’s arms around me I felt; the warmth of her spirit during a hug.

I confess to you that, while there are children who want to grow up and be just like their parents; I never wanted to be a Mother like the Mother you were to me. Confessing this may seem irrelevant now that I have a grown child and a teenager. To me, this is validation. My children see me as their safe place, their protector. As a single Mother, I did not take away their father’s. Instead I encouraged their involvement. I become the complete opposite of the Mother you where to me and I see it in my children.

As I have raised my children, I taught them life skills that I wasn’t taught. Nor did I observe you teaching the rest of my siblings. I taught them humility and how to love themselves. I taught boundaries for which growing up, we had none. That is a big generational curse that plagues many families. Especially Black families. That it something I had to learn for myself in my 30’s.

I am not confessing that I had a horrible Mother. I have learned from your mistakes and that has made me a better Mother. You see it. I believe that you respect me for it. The choices you made were not for your children, they were for yourself. As parents, we cannot be selfish. Our children did not ask to be here. We chose to birth them into this world. To this day, there are questions that I know that I will never get the answer to. Not because you don’t remember the past. It is because to this day you do not hold yourself accountable for your mistakes.

Parenthood, Motherhood especially is hard. We nurture from conception and during that time we dream of all of the things that the life inside of us will contribute to the world. I have to believe that you thought the same thing when you carried us. I have to believe that you just did not know how, or that you tried your best to raise us.

Ultimately, I am blessed. I could have been out on the streets. You could have kicked me out when I became a teenage Mom. You could have not cared at all. What I wished for, is for you to have shown us love more than you showed us spite. That you have hugged us instead of watching the tears.