I feel like it wasn’t too terribly long ago that I looked into your beautiful baby blue eyes and saw this new life in you that made me a mom. A little nose like mine and strawberry fuzz that covered your crown. You were magnificent and I knew that I too was reborn that day. You made me a momma, and in your little face I had found my truest love to date.
I was only 19, barely on my own path and I was suddenly diving headfirst into a world that previously had involved the occasional messy diaper and few other minor inconveniences that my babysitting jobs entailed. I had no experience with your tiniest of frames at 17 1/2″ and 6lb 8oz you were much like a baby doll i had once drug around as a small child.
I was just a baby myself, much like you are now, my sweet little love. I was freshly plucked from my fast life as a teenager and tossed into this world of Motherhood. I was grateful beyond measure for a family that a seasoned pro ready to spoil her first grandchild and a poppa who thought you hung the moon. Foe the first time, I saw how hard it was to be the mom. It was an appreciation I hadn’t known prior to your arrival.
Here we are, a mere 18 years later and I’m standing the shoes your Nana once wore, without her here pushing me on. I watch as your still tiny frame tries to accommodate your own little girl. I never thought about being a Nona, Mimi, Nana, or a Mamaw past that “one day” assumption. Yet here we stand. Footsteps that I didn’t wish for you to follow. A path that’s hard to tread at your young age.
Everything will be harder. It will, however, be clearer. You’ve already decided certain aspects of this little person’s life that will impact their life for the future. A name, a nickname, where you’ll live and all things you want, hope, and dream she will be. However, who she is will be shaped and determined by the paths we as the family who surrounds her chooses to take. As you know, my little love, children are most often along for the journey chosen by those who raise her.
I hope with your own journey in mind that you know this much is true. I am here. I am still your momma even as you become a momma yourself. I can still kiss the boo boo’s, but I can’t take the falls. I can hold you as you scream, but no matter my desire I can’t shoulder the pain. I can guide you, show you and teach you the lessons I’ve learned but I can’t transfer the experience. I can be like the grandmother that was taken from you 14 years ago, but I will never be Nana you knew, nor the momma you are now.
Life has thrown us a lot of punches. We’ve taken the hits and learned to fight back. You and I grew up together, myself as much as you. I was forced to walk this road down Motherhood lane much on my own. I haven’t been the mother you deserved, nor always the one you needed me to be, but I’ve been the best I knew how to be. You, my little love, will too. Mommin’ aint easy, but I’ll be here for you, with you, and loving you through it as long as I live. You’ve got this, my sweet little love! You’re as tough as a mother. I can’t wait to see the amazing person you’ve created and watch you become the momma you never knew you were destined to be. I’m proud to be your momma. Soon, you’ll understand just what a mother’s love truly means.
Holding back tears I asked, “DOES she have SOCKS?!” This was my BIG worry tonight as we walked through Walmart at 9:00pm on a rainy, random Wednesday night. College. My daughter is leaving for college…tomorrow and I’m worried about socks!? She is 18, dreams of being a psychologist, and the world is at her feet. Me, I’m the mom worried about if she will have socks as she goes out to show this world what striving for success and strength looks like!
I looked to the man who is my calm in the storm, casually walking a few steps ahead, he nonchalantly answers “yes.” I questioned him again. After all, I knew nearly every day, no matter how many pairs I buy, my girls are going to come steal my socks. In that moment he looked at me and calmly said “yes, your baby has socks.” I couldn’t hold back the tears any longer.
Why was I crying in Walmart over socks? I’m sure I looked and sounded ridiculous. I was irritated. I was emotional. I was thinking about 18 years of time that came and went far too fast. I was happy and I was scared. So I was worried about socks. Silly, I was a wreck…but why socks?
It’s ironic, that a little over 18 years ago I was in labor. In fact, I vividly recall getting “new mom” anxiety at the hospital about socks for my new baby girl. I was asking the same question then as I was this very night. Of all things I was worried my baby wouldn’t have socks!
My mom rushed out to buy socks for my sweet baby and her tiny feet. In addition, she bought clothes to fit her tiny frame. My first was so little. My beautiful red haired, blue eyed, baby girl was full term, but weighed 6’8 and measured 17 1/2” long. So small. My first baby girl of my threefold, and my first true love.
Looking on as moms do, I saw my oldest daughter, with her two little sisters bickering. I laughed and tried to let them do their typical back and forth banter. I played the pull mom every direction and make sure she pays attention to each child. I tried to remain patient and calm as I listened to each tell me their “needs” or “wants”. My anxiety was growing, but not due to worry about her or even the other two of my threefold. I was forgetting something. Had to be.
As the night passed on I noticed my emotional state was becoming so high that I was becoming overly anxious. All the needs, wants and reminders flying around for all three girls. Then the little fights. As my anxiety increased so did my oldest daughter’s. I could see her feeling like she was getting “more” than her younger siblings. In addition, I could see her insecurity surrounding money start to make her flustered. As a result, I saw firsthand, that she was feeling all the anxiety I was trying to push down. Instead of her knowing why, I saw her viewing herself as the cause of every bit of my increasing anxiety.
I got her nearly everything she has needed over these past couple of months. We only have a few last minute needs to tie up. Yet, she still felt like she was causing my anxiety. That wasn’t it. Not at all. I was proud and wanted nothing more than for her to feel confident as she began college. Yet, I felt like I was failing her as our anxiety climbed together.
What I didn’t tell my oldest is that I wasn’t anxious over buying what she needed, her sisters bickering, or even the growing list. I was missing something, but I couldn’t place what.
This feeling was unshakeable. Maybe I was just being a mom and scared. However, I’m not scared of her making the wrong choices, failing, or getting into trouble. I know her on a level that goes beyond a typical mother/daughter relationship. We talk about everything. Above all, even if I don’t want to hear the truth, she doesn’t lie to me in the way most teenagers do lie to their parents.
Finally it hit me, right in that Walmart aisle and with those socks sitting on sale. I didn’t forget to make sure her feet were covered in clean socks. She had her toothbrush and pj’s. This went beyond the superficial level of material needs. I was forgetting the person who once inhabited that tiny frame.
She was moving beyond her past. I no longer saw a scared girl with anxiety standing in the aisles going through the mental checklist she made a year ago of everything she needed. I saw the person who had worked hard to find her own voice again. I saw a woman who was funny, kind, and a genuinely good person standing worried about her abilities.
My daughter deserves all things good. I want this for her and every good thing in life. She has sacrificed more than many. Furthermore, my oldest daughter has been my coparent even if she didn’t ask for that responsibility. She endured the hardest circumstances in submissive silence to avoid making life harder for herself, her sisters and I when the abuse we all endured was aimed in her direction. She suffered and sacrificed her childhood, her teenage years, and her own blood, sweat and tears to help her younger sisters and I survive .
Her strength isn’t only in the survival it’s in the story she is writing in spite of the circumstances she was raised in. That strength is in her smile that is contagious. The confidence in her own abilities and the goals she has chased, regardless of the people along the way who tried to tell her every reason she would never reach them.
Her complete transparency, self awareness, genuine kindness, and inclusive nature all are part of the backbone of her identity. It’s takes bravery to walk through the fire, but it takes perseverance to walk through that fire and not allow your entire life to be consumed by the pain.
It’s takes courage to love with your entire heart and give of yourself to others, even though that love and gift has been taken advantage of since you were young. It takes commitment to make a plan and to speak it to others, but it’s the determination that carries you across the finish line. It takes fight to face your worst fears, but it takes ferocity to overcome those fears.
My daughter is just another girl to the world, but she is going to change the world of the people who have the honor to know her. My daughter is beautiful, smart, and talented. However, she is more than any pretty pictures or my bias words could convey. My oldest daughter is the smallest of my threefold. Nonetheless, at 4’11, the truth that she has learned is “dynamite comes in small packages…BOOM!” Get ready, because this girl of mine is about to blow up on your scene.
She is my daughter, my first love, and I’m so incredibly lucky she calls me mom. She definitely has more than just socks these days, she has a whole suit of armor that she forged in the fire of her past. That armor is her success story. The one she has written each day along the way and will continue to write until it reaches completion. I am just happy to be on the sidelines cheering her on and supporting her through this crazy train ride called life. To my threefold, to my first little love. You’ve got this! Together we’ve got each other, always. ☮️❤️😊~M
Mother’s Day. Mother’s day is bittersweet for me. I dread it every year, along with a few other choice dates that have very little significance to others. My mom passed away fourteen years ago. Every year, I am just as sad as I was that first Mother’s Day. Although, I have my threefold to celebrate with me on Mother’s Day, it’s just not the same anymore. I’m motherless on Mother’s Day, but I shouldn’t be.
I have so many regrets and at the same time, I feel cheated out of so much time. We should still have plenty of years left to spend with my mom. I was just at the beginning of this journey when I lost my mom. I never knew that losing a parent would leave me so lost too.
Gone Too Soon
My mother passed away at 48 years old, suddenly and completely unexpectedly. She left behind a family who would cling tight to one another in the months after her passing. However, that tight family would drift apart years later.
When my mom passed away, I was 23. I was 23, married, I had a four year old, and was 7 months pregnant with #2 of my threefold. I thought I was an adult, but honestly, I was still such a naive girl. My brother was 27, married and the dad of a two year old daughter. Then there was my dad, he was distraught, and unsure of how to be alone after losing the woman he had married over 25 years previously. We were all so incredibly lost in the aftermath of my mom’s death. In many ways, we still are.
It was too soon. It is unreal. As a result, I still to this day feel cheated due to how much my mom has missed. I still feel that sadness and pain I felt over a decade ago. Along the way, I’ve learned there is one saying that is so true: “no one on earth can ever replace your mother.”
The Truth About My Mother
My mother was not a saint. Although, it’s easier to glorify her now that she is gone. Furthermore, my mother and I did not have the relationship of a tv sitcome mother-daughter duo. We fought like crazy. At times, I wondered if she even liked me. In addition, I am sure that I said the words I hate you on more than one occasion. My mother and I had a love-hate relationship.That tulmultuous up and down relationship left me with many regrets and a tremendous amount of guilt after she died.
The Not So Pretty Side
My mom was never much on affection, she was overly concerned with her appearance, what others thought of her and was very much that mom. She loved shopping and other materialistic things that brought her very little joy. In addition, she was chronically depressed and anxious. She slept more than any person should ever need to and was only social if she had a few drinks. In addition, she was highly critical, petty, dramatic, and had the RBF that made you think she was pissy.
The Good Mom
On the other hand, my mother was generous. My mom opened her home to my friends in need. She often dontated to charities. She was a fierce protector of her children. She stood up to injustices and treated people with kindness. I watched her give money to the same homeless man on the corner everyday she saw him. I witnessed her pay for people’s groceries and the car behind us in the drive thru. She had so much good. She loved animals.
My mom wasn’t perfect, but I know she tried. However, I know my mother suffered from mental illness. I understand it much more now, than I ever could back then. As a result, that mental illness is one of the things that killed my mother and stole all of my time with her. If we would’ve known, we would’ve helped her before it was too late.
Life Goes On
I vividly remember those days after my mother’s death. Everything felt surreal. It seemed as if I was moving in slow motion. However, everyone around me was still moving at normal speed. It was like a nightmare that I was just waiting to wake up from, but never did. I wanted her back. I needed her. The truth is, I didn’t even know how much I would need her.
After her death, I couldn’t help but selfishly think about all the many moments I would need my mom and not have her by my side. I didn’t know at the time just how many of those days there would be ahead of me. Furthermore, I didn’t think about the many, many milestones she would miss in my life and the lives of her now five beautiful grandchildren. Although, each time we come across one of those milestones, I still find myself aching for her to be there with us.
Memories
Memories and old pictures are all we have left now of my mother. I hold tight to those. It’s not fair. Although, it’s not easy finding the way forward, somehow we keep going. It’s not easy being motherless on Mother’s Day. There is a piece of me that died when my mother did. However, I’m still not sure what piece I lost when we lost her.
I took the time I had with my mom before she died for granted. If I can offer one piece of advice it would be if your mother is still in your life make the call, go visit, send the flowers, and show her all the love and appreciation you have for her. After all, she won’t always be here and one day you’ll wonder if she knew how special she was to you. In the end, all you’ll have are the memories you made.
Happy Mother’s Day. ☮️❤️😊~M
Make me a happy mother and follow along on Facebook, TikTok, Instagram, Twitter, and Pinterest! It’s fine you can push all my button just like my kids do! I’m totally used to it! Support a mother and buy some merch from the stuff~n-~things shop 😂❤️~M
Today, people of the world, is my daughter’s 14th birthday. The second born of my threefold. Once upon a time this daughter of mine was an emmanese speaking, toddling, blonde haired, blue eyed beauty. She is my little love, my mini me, in nearly every way. Momma’s little M&M. There are so many things I hope my threefold learns on their journey. Today, I hope she celebrates, because it means her story isn’t over yet.
This child that I love with my whole heart, made me wonder for the longest time if she embodied the entire curse of threefold that my mother bestowed on me before she died. After all, Ms. Thing, was the one I was pregnant with when the curse was issued and 53 days after my mother’s death I had this beautiful baby girl, the deuce of my trio. I have realized, that she though challenging and a fierce force is only a piece of my threefold. Yet, very much a key piece, a piece that makes me, me.
The Deuce
My M&M as I’ve called her since before she was born has changed from that little toddling, pint sized, sassy, and bright eyed baby into this amazingly inspiring young woman. Not only has she transformed her style {at least 5 times} but she has transformed in ways that I was once scared I might not see. Today we celebrate that growth, both in maturity and soul .
Just from a year ago, I’ve seen this young child begin to become a young woman. I’ve seen a fighter, a person with fierce determination, and with a heart that loves without limit. In addition, I’ve witnessed her overcome obstacles, stomp stigma surrounding her mental illness and gain a new perspective on the world around us. This has been beautiful to watch.
The Struggle is Real
If you have followed my threefold for a while, then you are familiar with our struggles and battles over the past year. We are stronger than yesterday, but we still have so much to learn. All of us. It hasn’t been an easy road, but nevertheless we are moving forward. Together.
I am truly proud of my threefold for how they have grown over this year. After six hospitalizations for #2 over nearly 30 weeks, year to date, I’d say celebration is called for. I fought for her, but the key in us overcoming these battles is her continual fight for herself.
Celebrate!
Celebrate each day! Every day you have with your family, friends, tribe or network of supporters is another day to celebrate. Be kind. You never know the struggles someone else is facing behind closed doors. Speak up against abuse, it’s not ok in any form. Finally, choose to keep moving forward, because this is just a bump. Somewhere you’ll find the message in the mess! You’ve got this! Stay positive! ☮️❤️😊~M
Another emotional week is coming to a close for my threefold. ALL three are home. Hopefully for a long time! It’s been up and down around here. I’m just trying to ride the waves of emotion and be the support my threefold needs me to be. It is a hard job, this mom thing. I will be tending to broken hearts and broken promises for the foreseeable future. Being a teenage girl is hard too.
#1 experienced her first big love over the past year. Her boyfriend {we’ll call him ‘J’} and #1 have been together for about 16 months or so. This is her first long relationship. Many of her firsts happened with ‘J’. She has been in love and it’s been beautiful to watch that young love. I actually really like ‘J’ and know he has been a good support for #1 through a very tumultuous year.
Tonight though, ‘J’ called it quits with #1. Her devastation and complete breakdown was heartbreaking for me to witness. I watched and tried to calm my sweet little girl as she hyperventilated and cried uncontrollably. I wanted to hold her, but during panic attacks she has increased sensitivity to touch. instead I sat on the cold floor with her hushing calmly and telling her that she would be ok, even if she wasn’t ok in that moment, she would be. I felt helpless I wanted to fix it, but there are no magic words to mend a broken heart. Instead, I did the only thing I knew how to do. I tried to calm her insecurities and her feelings of worthlessness.
Instead of sitting on the floor we drove to the gas station down the road. We have chocolate. We have funny tv shows and movies and we have a little heartbreak hotel set up. My newly appointed adult daughter will be sleeping in her mom’s room tonight. She will be comforted with chocolate and inappropriate humor. We will ride the wave.
As I sit writing this little dramatic comedy in the making, I am stealing away my moment to cry knowing this pain will linger with her for a while. I know that the first love and the first heartbreak that usually comes with it will be forever etched in her memory. She is tough. My stick of dynamite in a tiny 4’10” body. She has grown so much and has a bright future ahead that is bound to include more love and more heartbreak. This love will be the beautiful high school story she tells one day to her own child when they experience that first love…and the heartbreak that will break hers to watch. I’m loving her through this one knowing that life goes on and that she won’t allow the heartbreak to break her completely. I’m staying positive because I know she’s got this. I’ve got her…and I’ve got this! ☮️❤️😊~M
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