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If You Can't Say Something Nice Then Don't Say Anything At All

To my daughters who feel I wasn't a good mother and have nothing good to say about the way, I raised them. Maybe try looking back again.

By Crystal RaePublished 2 years ago 12 min read
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I had no idea becoming a mother would hurt so bad

I will never forget the day I found out my life was going to forever change. It was the day before my 17th birthday. I had run away from home to live with my boyfriend and I was sleeping all the time. I thought it was probably the onset of depression and I had gone to see a doctor. As part of the routine physical check-up, I had to do a pregnancy test. Much to my surprise and my doctors... it came back positive. The good news was I wasn't depressed. The bad news was I was still a young kid myself and I was carrying a child. I remember feeling so scared of all the things that could possibly go wrong prior to childbirth. I wanted to ensure I was doing everything by the book to prevent any types of issues for him or her. My goal was for whatever I was going to have to be healthy. I read articles and books about anything and everything pertaining to babies before they are born. What to eat, what not to eat, what exercises to do, and what kinds of music to play would help in making my baby smart.

I should have been reading about how to deal with the emotions tied to raising a child and what it would feel like when you realized they would never have anything good to say about how you raised them or all the things you did for them.

Apparently, nothing I ever did was right!

My daughter was to be born on Easter in 1996. She was stubborn and decided she didn't want to come into the world until she was forced to do so. Several weeks into April, I was induced into labor and a few hours later I was holding a crying brown-haired, blue-eyed baby girl. The nurses had to use a glue to put a ribbon on her head as she had barely any hair. She was healthy and beautiful. The perfect little girl. Her father had to work that day and even though I was induced so the time and date were set... he didn't feel it was big enough of an event to request the day off. So I gave birth to our child all by myself. Not something any new parent should have to do alone. I remember feeling scared and uncertain as to what to expect. I knew that child birth was painful and yet there are no words to accurately describe the pain. It is beyond the word painful. It truly should have its own word made up for it. Because it is not something that can be described and yet once the baby is born... the pain is gone. At least at that level.

I think it is different to be a mom than a dad. For a mom, they get to feel the child growing inside of them. They have to change how they eat, sleep and there is no more doing anything outside of responsible. For a dad, nothing really changes except for the sentences they use. They now get to tell their family and friends that they are going to have a child.

When I went home from the hospital, I made a decision to move back in with my mom and her new husband. I still had a few months of high school left and I knew I was going to need as much help as I could get. My mom agreed to let my boyfriend move in with me so that we could be a family. This would be short-lived as he still only cared about drugs and drinking. He had no desire to be a dad or provide any kind of support. Not emotionally, physically or financially. I don't even know how many nights I cried myself to sleep. I was exhausted and not certain what next steps to follow. I just wanted him to be an involved dad and act like he did when we first began dating. I felt like I was doing everything alone.

Newsflash... because I was!

I was set to graduate in a month and I was excited to be done with school. I had received a scholarship to go to college but I knew there was no way I could support my daughter if I went to college as I had to work to make sure she had everything she needed. She was my only focus. It was no longer about me or my goals or dreams. My life was now all about that little girl. I remember her crying in the middle of the night and feeling so incredibly tired. I wasn't sure how I was going to make it to school and keep up with her nightly feedings. As I laid her down on the baby changing table, I remember her smiling at me. It was a moment I will never forget. I was so freaking tired and yet, this little girl was so happy. I couldn't help but feel a sense of pride and knowing that no matter what happened in life... she would be by my side.

By the time I was 23 years old, I had three children and was engaged to be married. No, not to the guy at the beginning of this story. That guy had to leave town due to death threats from local drug dealers. Great person, eh? The man I was about to marry had a past that included drugs and alcohol but had changed his ways and was now a mentor to troubled teens. He was a public speaker at events that shared the negatives of drugs and drinking. I felt inspired by him. He was much older than me... but I guess that is part of my "daddy issues". Ha!

Our world and happy family was ripped apart when his daughter from a relationship prior to us getting married, was killed in a car accident. She was an inexperienced driver and she turned the car into the lane of a semi-truck. The driver of the semi-truck hit her head-on. Such a tragic ending and loss. She was a beautiful girl on the inside and out. She had a presence about her that made everyone that knew her, deeply love her. All pews were filled and there were still so many people standing at her funeral. It was like being at the funeral of a celebrity. Just another example of how many people loved and adored her. When my husband received the call to tell him of the horrible accident... I watched the color drain from his eyes. It was not something he was able to handle nor was he willing to seek help to try and get through it all. So after being together close to 13 years... I made a choice to end our marriage.

It sounded like the best option for my children and me. He turned to the bottle and I couldn't deal with the drunken rants and verbal abuse. Once the divorce was final, I moved into a trailer close to their school. This would make it easier for me to continue my career and not have to worry about how they were going to get to and from school every day. I truly felt like I did most of the work in raising the children. It wasn't until I was living on my own that I was able to see how much he actually had done to help me. My career was thriving and that meant more hours on the job. The children not only had school but sports and other activities that required my presence. I was stretching myself so thin to ensure I didn't let my children down and was still a rockstar manager of a team of 22 employees. Let's not forget there were still dinners to cook, laundry to wash and fold and homework to make sure got done. Instead of reaching out to family and friends to ask for help... I reached out for a bottle. The same thing that destroyed my marriage was about to destroy the relationship I had with my children and the job I had worked so hard to get. I just wanted to reach the point of sleep that would shut down my mind. The one that didn't leave me feeling like a failure or questioning everything about how I was raising my children. They also didn't understand why mom and dad we no longer living together or still together period.

My drinking forced my children to grow up much faster than they should have. They were now responsible for cooking their own dinners, doing their own laundry, and making sure all their homework was done. Their mom was usually blackout drunk or passed out when they needed her most.

Yep, I was that mom!

It took me years to forgive myself for that time period in my life. When I say years, I mean, a good ten-plus years. Anytime my children would tell a story, there would be a slam against me for being drunk or passed out. They thought it was good humor, and I felt nothing but guilt and began to hate myself. The more I tried to work through the emotions around all of it, the more I hated who I was. I saw no good in me.

Now my children are grown and have their own children. I am a proud Nana to 6 awesome grandchildren or "littles" as I call them. They think I am super cool and I can do no wrong in their eyes. I love that! What I don't love is my oldest has decided to reconnect with her bio dad. He is having medical issues from all the years of hard-core drinking and is in need of a liver transplant.

When I got married, I wanted all my children to have the same last name as me. So my husband adopted my girls. This meant the bio dad had to either willingly sign away his rights or I had to take him to court to fight for my daughter's last names to be changed. Good ol' bio dad willingly signed his rights away when he found out he would no longer be responsible for child support. Not the debt owed or any future payments. He was not a part of her life anyway, so it's not like I was asking him to do anything in the extreme. I also was very honest with my daughter regarding her bio dad and even let his family have all the time they wanted with her. I wasn't that mom who kept her away or hid the truth from her. It was all out in the open.

My daughter had never wanted to get to know her bio dad or was willing to return any of his requests to meet with her as she became an adult. I told her I would support any decision she made, and I stand true to that statement even now.

I just had no idea how much it was going to hurt me!

With the news of him dying and needing a liver, she reached out and now has a relationship with him and his wife. I think that is awesome of her and I hope he stays this time. What is not awesome, is since this new relationship has formed... I am the odd man out! I am no longer invited to family events and all I hear about is how horrible of a mom I was. How I forced her to grow up faster than she should have...

Yeah, I did... and I am sorry for that!

But why am I being held to the memory of a few years when there are 23 other years I was not. Why do I not hear about the homemade cupcakes I made for her 16th birthday that looked like owls because she loved owls so much? Why do you not hear about the five stores I had to go to to ensure she had the prom dress she dreamed of. Why don't I hear about the midnight trips to watch the Paranormal movies with all of her friends or how many animals I took in because she found strays and couldn't stand not caring for them. Why do I not hear these types of stories???

Why am I the bad guy in every way when there was so much good I did for them?

The hours I spent behind the scenes to make sure I could afford the name-brand shoes they wanted for Christmas, or how many nights I didn't sleep because I was baking for the PTA function or decorating for a special themed birthday party? How many times did I let friends stay over, or how many wanted to come to play at our house when I made up the game red neck vollyball? Instead, I am being shut out and slandered for the years I tapped out. Yet, the person who tapped out the entire 25 years is now the hero and is being praised as her dad?

Does anyone else see the problem with that?

I have never claimed to be mom of the year. I knew there was so much more I could have done. Things I could have said differently or things I should have not done but its in the past and I can't change that. I did the best I could with the tools I had. Just as they are doing now with their own children. I had no clue I would be sitting home alone crying at night because of choices I made ten-plus years ago. Don't I get an award or honorable mention for all the times I was there? What about the strength you have, your fierce independence, or the laughter you share, or the beauty you shine? The good things in you from me... what about all those things?

Maybe it's you who needs to think about how you are treating your mom in the now and stop living in the past. One day your children are going to have the same things to say to you... no matter how right you think you got it. It is not going to ever be enough or what they needed.

I prayed my children would be healthy... now I pray they use their healthy heart and start caring about the things they say and do.

I am not just a mom, I am a person and the things being said are hurting me.

Regardless of the things I did or didn't do...

No one deserves to feel this way!

children
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About the Creator

Crystal Rae

My heart bleeds black and white for you to read like an open book... so don't be shy... take a look!

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