It is not a secret that I have a child. It is also not a secret that I love this child with every breath that I have in me. Before I had her, I had worried that I might not carry a child well, due to a procedure I'd had done for cervical dysplasia. For those that have no idea what that is, it is the development abnormal cells on the outside of the cervix. I won't go into what they have to do to remove them, but suffice it to say that it can cause difficulties with carrying children to term. This pregnancy; however, went beautifully well, which made me extremely happy.
It was always one of my fondest desires to have a child. I did not have much of a childhood, for a variety of reasons. I won't deny that one of the reasons I wanted a child, was so that I could prove that I could be the mother mine never was to me. I wanted to prove that I could give her all of the love I'd never felt but had needed. I wanted to protect her the way I never had been. Suffice it to say I wanted (and still want) her to have everything I didn't. But I also don't want her to turn out to be a complete and utter brat like so many other children out there. I will make sure that she has the necessary structure she needs and I will change as I have to for this.
As I watch her grow, she constantly amazes me. Even when I'm infuriated by something she's done, or frustrated with trying to figure out how to get her to understand something, she is the brightest part of everything. She makes me smile and my heart swells with my love for her. I often wonder what she will be like when she's older, what kind of a person she will be, what kind of choices she will make. I can see the whole world open for her and I now better comprehend the phrase, "the world is your oyster." I only wish I could have seen that years ago for myself. I don't regret where I am now, but sometimes I wonder what choices I would have made differently if I had the knowledge then that I do now.
There are times when she says the most unexpected things (which all children do). Some of these times she will say something and it's like someone took me and put my brain in a toddler's head. For example, many times when I get home from work, she'll ask me why I came home, like she expected me not to. I'll look at her and ask her if she wanted me to and when she says yes, then I tell her, "well, there ya go!" and then she flings her arms around me and gives me a hug. It's like she's always expecting I'll just leave one day and not come back. Or, in the mornings when I'm getting ready for work, it's a HUGE deal for her, that she get her hugs and kisses before I leave. Many mornings she gets anxious, as if she's expecting me to just ignore her and leave without her getting them. The difference between us is that I'll do my damndest never to go away unless I die, in which case I won't have much of a choice. I hope she NEVER has to experience that and that I die when she is MUCH older. And I will always make sure to the best of my ability that she gets her time before I walk out the door.
I read something somewhere that they did a study on children that had lost a parent. They said that the effects of the amount of support the children had during that time greatly impacted them essentially for the rest of their lives. I know that one of my parents did not die until I was older, but my parents divorced when I was three. I ended up with my father and my mother, for all intents and purposes, left the scene. There were times shortly after where she'd say she'd come get me, I'd get ready to go, and then nothing. No Mommy showing up to say she loved me, no reassurances I was still wanted. I remember standing on my grandmother's couch, looking out the window for her, and crying, saying that I hated my mother and never wanted to see her again. My mother is still around, but there is a distance between us, a chasm. I don't know that there will ever be a bridge built over it. I'm not going to hold my breath waiting for it. I have never called anyone else mother, and I never will, but I don't have that matriarchal feeling towards her. It's more like she's my equal, like a friend that was once close but you've grown apart from them over time, so they become an acquaintance rather than a friend, than my mother.
I can tell you that even now, almost 30 years later, it still has an impact on my self-perception. I have been able to overcome some of it, but not all. Since my parents divorced, I have not felt like my mother has been there for me. Not really and truly. When I discussed this with her, the response I got was that she was young and stupid. I was never given an, "I'm sorry. I loved you and wanted you and still do. I'm sorry I hurt you." I don't believe I ever will get this either. I realized a while back, that this was something I had been searching for. So when my little one gets clingy because of separation anxiety, as little ones tend to, I give her that one-on-one time to reassure her and let her know that I'm here for her, I want her, and I will always love her. It doesn't take long, but the length of time doesn't matter, only that it is done.
Anyway, I see how much my little one is just like me and it only makes me love her more. She is going to be a smart, funny, sweet-hearted, gorgeous bundle of pain-in-my ass when she gets older and I can't wait to enjoy every moment of it.
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