There are all kind of mothers, some are outstanding and others fail miserably. As a teenager I had sworn off, "the curse" of having children, I vowed to have puppies. After the trauma of Sherie's custody case, I had reached bottom, the lowest level of self-loathing. I was horrible at finding anyone to love. Within a relationship I disappeared, lost in compromising my needs, talents and resources to please a man. Ultimately, the ''Independence'' that my mother instilled within me, would break free; the "rose colored glasses" that filtered out the truth, would fade and the real person would be revealed. Nice people are not always so nice, with time they can become the epitome of evil. Sometimes, I would wise up early enough to still have a little dignity and money in the bank. When being a trophy, used and abused got old, I started getting rid of some really good guys before they could hurt me a "preemptive strike." Relationships hurt, at least that is what I learned from my parents.
If I had only received, Gary Chapman's Five Languages of Love as a gift for my 16th birthday my relationships would have been far better. My mother and stepfather gave love and received love with expensive gifts. Christmas at our house was great, loads of gifts and money to buy whatever Santa did not bring. They used gifts to express love and control. As a child, I do not recall ever wanting something that could not be purchased. Love was an investment of money and when I did not respect their authority they took back the gifts. I never felt spoiled, I worked hard and deserved every dollar they gave me. I desperately wanted, words of affirmation and a hug to feel loved. Instead, I learned that love was conditional. I was more of a possession; a beautiful doll to dress-up and show-off, how well my parents could provide for our family. My perception of a loving relationship was warped, it was predicated in fear. How could my mom's rage be reconciled with her love for me? It took years of therapy to understand, why I felt unloved and how to fix myself so people would want to love me.
Realizing that my self-perception was the problem in finding a loving relationship, I stopped looking outward. I denied myself any relationship that I did not control. I resolved that I could be a good mom, at least I knew how not to treat a child. So, I was 26, single and wanted to have a baby. Looking back, what I did was selfish, I was not financially in a position to care for a child, but I could not see any downside to becoming a single parent. My child would not be a mistake, I desperately wanted to love someone. My mother considered me to be a mistake, I don't even know who my father is, or if he even knows I exists. The only father I had known was "Satan Incarnate," so having a father was not a good thing. Life would certainly be better for my child without a father. At least, he would not grow up in a constant state of fear. I knew, I could be a great mom, I had so much love to give. My mother had "set the bar low," I was sure, I could do a much better job at being a mom. (Notice how self absorbed "I" was; I,I,I,I...I...I...I was the center of my universe. I was all about ME, Me, me.)
After 30 hours of labor, three hospitals in the middle of the night then an emergency C-section; my son was born. I was exhausted, but so in love with him. The next day my mom showed up with nothing good to say, she was successfully at making feel horrible. I guess she thought I was expecting her to raise him. Having her babysit or financially supporting us was not even on my "radar." There was no plan. I went home to no job, very little experience with infants, no help from his father, no help from anyone. In desperation, I prayed a simple prayer, "God if you will make my life better, I will teach my child to love you." I had given up on God, I had blasphemed against his very existence. For the past decade, I had traded eternal life for what money could buy. I was not a bad person, I helped friends and strangers. I never thought about heaven or hell. I considered myself to be a 'Good' person in complete denial of where I would spend eternity. I was now bargaining with God, feeling so defeated, if there was a God, I was sure he had disowned me.
I made a very bad mistake having a relationship with my son's father, Khairy. He was very controlling and left me thousands of dollars in debt. I owed my mother money, that she had loaned him for his business. So when my son, Saber was 6 months old she moved in my tiny one bedroom apartment for a year until I had paid her back with free room and board. I was very surprised to see her because we had not spoken since her visit at the hospital. I was terrified when she move in; Father Babcock, my rock was in heaven. What would happen to the little self-esteem I had left, if she verbally tormented me daily? Fortunately, she worked long hours and spent the rest of her time with friends enjoying Dallas' night life. Her time living with us was unusually normal, not great but bearable . She was very generous, helping me find a better apartment and purchasing furniture for Saber's room, the living room and a dinette table. Definitely, the most expensive birthday gifts ever bestowed upon Saber or myself. She worked hard helping me "make ready" a new apartment for a reduced deposit. I was very grateful for her help and told her this many times. The very fact that we lived together for over a year and I was not committed to an institution is proof that God was with me.
When Saber was born, I was reborn. Not reborn in the spiritual Evangelical Christian sense of the word, but I started my life over. I changed everything about myself. I was no longer me, I became mom. I made new caring Christian friends at the church of St. Francis. Friends who did not judge me, they never asked about my past. Complete strangers cared for me, cared what happened to me, loved me without condemnation. Slowly, God was making my life a little better. Slowly, I started to love God and want him in my life. True to my word I gave my son over to God. I found amazing God-parents and had Saber baptized. I attended church when my job permitted. Saber stayed with his God-parents and went to church, when I had to work weekends. These Christians, were kind to us; they were the reflection of Christ that I wanted to see when I looked at myself in the mirror.
St. Francis once said,"Preach the gospel. Use words if you have too." This is exactly what I needed to reconcile my soul to God. I do not believe in accidents. God had a purpose for my life before my mother conceived me. He knew what it would take to show me how much he loved me. It was no accident that I was sent to St. Francis church as a disillusioned believer physically and spiritually devastated. People make mistakes, God does not. I was sent to love parents who in their own distorted way loved me very much. However, if they were not my family, I'm sure I would not like them, neither would I love them. I pray that my transgressions against my family and my God are forgivable. We do not get to choose our family, thankfully we do get to choose our God. I am thankful that my shallow cry to God was heard. I'm amazed that God pursued me, that I was worth the cost. I'm overwhelmed by what he was willing to sacrifice so that I could love him, so that he could love me. I'm grateful that he allowed me the privilege of becoming a mom and that by doing so I can now comprehend how unconditionally he loves us. I have raised my children to love the Lord not to fulfill a promise made in desperation, but because his love and wisdom are the greatest treasure I could ever teach them.
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