July 3, 2012

things that make my hair gray

Sitting on the couch together watching TV like we do every evening, Lovie pops her head up and asks for more milk, smiles big, and lays her head full of tight curls back on my chest. I rub the beads between my fingers and tell her she’s got to get up for a minute so I can fulfill her request. She sits up and I leave her there on the couch, alone, completely trusting that I’ll return.  
 
I’m her provider of food and clothes, rest and shelter, love and guidance; I'm her Mama. When she sees something new, she always asks, “Mama! Did you see it?” When she sings to a song on the radio, she demands, "Sing, Mama!" When I cuss at another driver on the road, she scolds, "Mama!"
 
She's my world, the air I breathe. My life.
 
I remember updating my Facebook account days after first being home with her to include a quote: "This is what it's all about."
 
I meant her.
 
She's the reason I was put here on the earth…the reason I lived the shitty times…the reason I kept going. This became clear the moment she was placed in my arms.
 
I imagine that every parent feels this way, right? I mean…they must.



My mom was barely 18 when she had my sister. The first four years of my sister's life was spent with my grandparents. After my mom met and married my dad, my sister moved in with them and my dad adopted her. My parents then had my brother, and years later, me. We lived the American Dream in a suburban bungalow. When I was 9, my parents split and my mother morphed into a partyer. I became the parent while both my siblings escaped by joining the armed forces as soon as legally possible.
 
By her mid-20s, my sister had her first two kids. When they were pre-teens, she left them with her soon to be ex-husband, seeing the kids when it was convenient for her. Years passed and she remarried and had a third child whom she left when he was 11. She still has a relationship with all of her children (and a grandbaby), but, again, she’s flying solo these days.
 
My brother was a daddy by 23. Several years later, his wife left the boy with my brother and the two became inseparable. About eight years later when the boy started becoming rebellious, my brother allowed him to live with his ex-wife. My brother then moved thousands of miles away and it’s been years since he’s even talked to the boy, now 20.
  

I know these lives are theirs and not mine, yet I still can’t help but wonder if I will follow this same path. I pray daily that it stops with me.
 
It must stop with me, I think as I sit back down next to my lovebug. “Thanks, Mama!” she beams, taking the sippy cup from my hand and laying her head full of curls back on my chest.



21 comments:

  1. It has already stopped. You waited. At some level involuntarily, you waited. You fought for that little girl before she was ever born. You will never take her or her love for granted. I think elsewhere you have said that you had to leave your nephew, as in not-your-choice, and that it was one of the hardest things you've ever done. (I never knew his Dad left him, too. Wow.)

    You siblings, your mother, they reproduced young. Immature. They never really grew up. You did grow. You grew and you watched. You are not your mother. You are not you sister. You are not your brother. You will not ever leave your Lovie. Not until you leave this life. I have never met you, and yet I am sure.

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    1. Wow. I'm in tears now. Deep down I know what you say is the Truth. I know it. I do. But there are times when I just can't help but wonder, you know? But thank you SO SO much for your compassion and your trust in me. Wow.

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  2. It is has clearly stopped with you. The deep, true love that you have for your daughter is so evident. My mom (who I am very close to and speak to every day) was raised by abusive alcoholics. They hurt her in every way, including the most unimaginable. She was surrounded by alcoholism, drugs and poor parenting with her siblings and their children. But she stopped the cycle. She raised two great kids (if I do say so myself :) and continues to be a wonderful presence in our lives. Their lives - and your history - do not have to be your reality, or your daughter's future. Thank you for sharing your story!

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    1. Thank you for sharing that with me. So glad your mom had the strength to prevail.

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  3. I think by acknowledging what happened to you and your vow to yourself to never let it happen to your daughter will ensure your success. You obviously love her a great deal - you love her more than your freedom, more than partying, more than any wordly possession and that will be your gurantee and hers that she will always have her mother.

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  4. Just want to say - awareness of your family's history and your will to change it are unstoppable. Either one might not be enough, but both together - you will succeed.

    Also, I just want to say I know what you mean - when she finally came, I thought - yes. This.

    Thanks for sharing!

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  5. I always am amazed when I read of struggle, and by God Christina it seems you have struggled! You made it through all the crap and from my perspective, that Lovie is your reward. And honestly, could it be anything better?

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  6. It has stopped with you. All your struggles, everything you endured brought you to your life now..the different path, the other choices...the ones you make each day where you put Lovie first.

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  7. It has stopped with you. Self-realization is a powerful, but woefully underestimated super power and you, my friend, have it in spades. Ellen

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  8. I don't know you but I don't see you leaving that precious child. You obviously love her more than anything in the world.

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  9. I agree with everyone. It has already stopped with you, just by you being aware and wanting it to stop. Congrats to you, mama.

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  10. Yes you are her life and she is yours. You have your own journey together and it will take the shape of no one's but your own.

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  11. I have to agree with all the previous commenters in that you've already broken the cycle. When it's time for your daughter to be a parent, she'll already be starting from a higher level thanks to you.

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  12. In recognizing it for what it is, you have already stopped it. We are doomed to repeat the patterns of which we are ignorant and you sound like you are completely aware of where this comes from and why it has happened with your siblings. That little girl is your world. You have nothing to worry about ;)

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  13. I think you've got this one, too. I think the moment you realize that your child is your heart walking around outside your body, you never want to leave them. At least that's how I feel about mine. You have made a choice, one that fits you completely and you and Lovie are going to grow together and be a wonderful family.

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  14. A moving story, Christina. Awareness as everyone has said is the key. One of my sisters has given birth to 6 children by 3 men. She gave them all away. She's had a minimal relationship with one, the only one I know, who now has 2 of her own. I certainly know how frustrating it is to watch that happen through the years. We all think about those kids, a part of our family, whom we'll never know. It's clear that will not happen to you. The cycle has been broken!

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  15. You are doing an incredible job. I think that all of us who read your stories often know that.
    I know that it has stopped with you. :-)

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  16. The fact that you recognize what you don't want is huge. That is the first step of stopping the cycle. From all that I've read of your blog, I can't imagine for a minute that they cycle would continue with you. I understand the fear though of becoming what our parents were. Great post.

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  17. My heart hurts for Joey (right?) and all those kids. I have an uncle who has somehow managed to reproduce with (at least) 3 women who all gave their kids away at some point. My mom & aunts have always stepped up, taking them in when needed... it's one of those things where you see the situation for what it is, and decide how YOU are going to act from there.

    You're smart enough not to follow a shitty example.

    I have absolutely no doubts about you and your family. From what you've written about your husband, your life-changing little girl... trust me (and the rest of your readers here) that you're a strong woman who will fight for what Lovie deserves.

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  18. This post starts so beautiful and made me think (again) if I made a wrong decision having no kids.
    Oh, boy, the rest... fingers crossed you three stay a happy family, it´s a good thing, I thankfully know.

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