I have been thinking about this post for a long time. I have wanted to get my thoughts out on paper. They have haunted me for long enough. This is very difficult for me to publish for others to read, but the purpose of this blog is to share my raw, real, personal thoughts and feeling for my kids to read when they are older. So I am going to be true to the vision I had for starting this. I want to warn. . .not a light subject and I am not going to hold back as to not hurt feelings. I am going to stand up for my feelings and be a bit selfish this time around!
When I picked Lyla up out of her crib this morning, she just smiled and hugged my neck so tight. She does this often, sometimes it is hard to break the tight hold she has to let her down. She just "talks" in my ear. It seems that she is telling me all about her night and how happy she is to see me. I just about cry every time she does it. I am so in love with my children. It is so hard to believe that other people could feel any differently. From the moment I became a mother, I became so defensive of my baby. I remember being in the hospital and having a HUGE meltdown because my "parents" showed up and wanted to see my child! I was only about 12 hours into motherhood and I was ready to kill to defend my child. . .literally. I was convinced that they were there to hurt him. I just knew it!! I think that was the first time Allen saw me go insane. I just couldn't let them be around him. I WOULDN'T LET IT HAPPEN!! He was my gift and not their punching bag! They would never be allowed to hurt him like they did me!!! I would rather die! So, I freaked out a bit more than I should have, I know! lol I couldn't calm down. My point in telling that was that the moment I became a mother, I was given such a job of protecting my child. I had such a feeling of purpose. As the years past and the children came, I understood even more my position of defender and nurturer of my babies.
I heard the Kelli Pickler song "I Wonder" and it really got me thinking this morning. I have been carrying such a heavy burden for years, well almost my whole life if I am being honest! I have such a hard time understanding how my mother could ever treat me as she did. How could you carry a child in your womb for 9 months and then birth her and nurse her, and not feel such a deep, internal, uncontrollable love? I just can't comprehend. (Speaking just of my Mother/Daughter relationship with Lyla) From the moment I found out I was pregnant, I had such a deep bond with each of my babies. I loved them before I had a name for them. When I found out I was pregnant with my fourth, I had such an undeniable feeling. The bond was so different, but just as strong as the previous three. It took four months of wondering before we found out it was a girl. I remember lying on the table and just crying uncontrollably. Allen was in shock of course and I was just scared. How would I love a girl? How would I treat her? Would I hate her as my mother hated me? I wasn't happy in those first few days. I was scared out of my mind! I told Allen I was crying because I was so happy, but I was lying. I was scared that I would be just like my mother. I just assumed I would be full of hate and anger, mean and spiteful and completely detrimental to her. Would I tell her the same things she told me? Would I try to break her and kill her spirit? I was so uncontrollably terrified! I thought it was a destiny I was headed for. I cried to myself for many nights. I hid my thoughts and feelings from everyone because I knew no one would understand. How could they understand? I knew I was going to be just like my mother. When you're a child and your mother looks at you and says, "I wish I believed in abortions!" it has a tendency to kill your spirit.
I would look in the mirror and all I would see was her face looking back. I would just stand and cry. Out of all my sisters, I look the most like her and it is haunting. The only thing she gave me was baggage and her bone structure. What a nasty combination! I just couldn't handle it. I struggled with my pregnancy and when it came to naming the baby, I couldn't. I actually took the suggestion of a friend and named her Lyla. I loved the name, but the only "lyla" I ever heard of was from a soap opera that my mother used to watch everyday. She would avoid making us dinner to watch this crap. I struggled with the name for months, but knew that it fit. I did not have a middle name until after she was born. Everyone added their thoughts and said "Jannelle" would be so pretty. I just about gagged! I would NEVER give my daughter a name that I hated and that came from "her'! NEVER!! I finally opened up to Grandma about my feelings on the middle name and she said something that changed my thoughts. She told me," Honey, it's not the name your mother gave you anymore. It is the name of the woman you have become. You should be proud to pass something so special along to your daughter. You can start fresh and show Lyla how to embrace love and generational gifts." (I love that woman. She has taught me so much about myself and showed me how to find inner strength.)
So long story short, I took Grandma's advice and gave my daughter my name. It fits her. She is so much like me. I am so honored that the Lord saw fit to bless me with a daughter. What a gift. I think through all this I have found comfort in the knowing that it was not me. I didn't do this to my mother. I wasn't born for her just to abuse and hate. I was born and endured all those years of terrible conditions, so that I could come out of it to raise my daughter with love! Pure love, unconditional love, free love with no strings attached! Isn't that just a wonderful gift and cycle! I had to endure all that hell so that I would learn that love it so precious and I am able to give it freely to my children.
Sometimes I wonder if she ever thinks about me. If she ever wonders how I turned out and how I am doing emotionally. I wonder if she ever realized that she almost killed me and if she cries at night knowing that she will never have my children as grandchildren. I wonder if she is sad that she was never there for me through school, or when I got married and if she missed being there by my side during the births of my children. As a young mother, these are things that I am already looking forward to with my children. These are the moments that one should cherish in their life. I wonder at times, if she would even recognize the woman I've become. Would she even care? I think at times that I should get answers to these questions, but the honest truth. . .they would be disappointing answers. They would probably just tear me down and break me. She didn't care when I was a toddler, why would she care when I am 27? So each day I hug my daughter a little tighter and laugh a bit more. I try so hard not to let my sons see me so hurt, but I also want them to know how loved and special they are. I will never lie to my children about my life before becoming their mother. I suppose my childhood will one day become a very difficult conversation with them. I will have to explain to them what I endured and how I survived. I am afraid they will see me differently. I am afraid many people will see me differently after reading some of my posts. I just refuse to "live in that fear." I am who I am. I'm extremely blessed and proud to be delivered. I will never take my family for granted. I suppose that is another lesson I was to learn throughout all this. . .
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