I've been doing a lot of thinking about how to write this post over the past couple of weeks. That's part of the reason I haven't posted for a while--that coupled with overwhelming procrastination. I'm typically not someone who shares a lot about their past, and I would venture to say I've NEVER talked about this with strangers or casual acquaintances. That being said, I'm also a believer of the idea that God gives us challenges in our lives so that we can use them to help others.
This all leads up to what I'm grateful for today, I promise.
For the first ten years of my life, I lived with my biological mother. I stayed with my dad and "stepmom" (I use quotes, because stepmom doesn't even BEGIN to give her credit for the impact she has made on my life!) every other weekend, and for a few weeks in the summer. While I believe she truly did her best, raising three kids by herself on a very limited income, I don't think my mother knew how to be a mother. Or maybe just not the type of mother I needed or hoped for.
Honestly, I think she just didn't know what to do with me--and when I was ten, she called my dad and told him to come and get me. All she said to me when I walked into the room was "You got your wish. You move to your dad's on Friday."
The years following the move to my parents' house were filled with a lot of ups and downs for my mother and I. We would sometimes go months and even years without talking because of some spat or disagreement we had. Sometimes I was being a teenage brat, and sometimes she was angry because I wasn't allowing her to control me. As I type this, it's been over five years since I've seen or spoken to her.
Though I am sad about the events and circumstances I just wrote about, I have to talk about the amazing and wonderful thing that came out of it! When I was five, my dad married my MOM. She came fully equipped with three boys: one my age, and twins who are two years younger. The day they got married, my parents had two five-year-olds and two three-year-olds. I think they were nuts!
When I moved in with my parents at ten, my stepmom became my MOM. She was everything to me that my mother just wasn't capable of being. She was there for my first period, my first break-up, my first dance, birth control discussions, wedding dress shopping, and Lamaze class. She fought with me about make-up, curfews, my laziness, my grades, and survived the five minutes of rebellion during my senior year of high school. Most importantly though, my mom showed me how to be a mom.
There are certain things in "mommy land" that aren't all cupcakes and finger paints. Sometimes being a mom is hard. Sometimes it just plain stinks. Believe me, my mom has faced challenges and situations no parent is prepared for. But through it all, our mom has been our mom. She has loved us UNCONDITIONALLY. She has defended us RELENTLESSLY. She has supported us FIERCELY.
Through her challenges as a mom, I have learned how to mother my own children. Watching your mom put her arms around her drug-addicted child and loving him just as much as she loves the others shows you that conditional love wasn't an option for her. The fact that she didn't give birth to me meant nothing to her-- I was her daughter. Unconditionally.
My mom leads more with her actions than her words. She's not a mom who gives unwanted advice. I've always just tried to get it right the way she did, and hope that my kids feel the same way I felt as a young kid. Her words gave me confidence, and her hugs gave me security. They still do.
The other night, I was rocking Teensy to sleep. I sat there with her, and out of nowhere I began to sing a song my biological mother had rocked me to sleep with when I was a toddler. I started to wonder if she looked at me as a baby, and had the ability to love me the way I love my children. Did she love me more when she was married to my dad? If she had the same life I have, would she have been capable of loving me the way I needed to be loved?
As those things ran through my mind I began to think about how grateful I was to have this discussion with myself. It turned into tears, and a prayer, thanking God for the ability to love my children. I thanked him for the ability to forgive them quickly, and for the wisdom to use kind words even when I’m feeling blind rage on the inside. I thanked Him for providing me with a model to show me the right way to mother my precious babies. And for providing those babies with their Grandma—who is crazy in love with them too.
I don’t want people who read this to think that I was raised by a reprehensible human being. I’m sure if you talked to my biological mother, she would tell you a different side to the story, and would speak to you of being a single mom on a limited income, or one of eight kids whose parents were distant. I have compassion for her. I have forgiven her.
I have learned from her, too.
