Dear Lord

Dear Lord,

I’m tired.

I’m tired of people complaining about being “stuck” at home with their kids, when I would love nothing more than to get a little more time with mine.

Lord I’m tired of hearing that people feel their social lives have been inconvenienced by this virus, when they would have gone out just to take selfies and pictures of food and what was going on around them completely losing the experience anyway as we have lost what it truly means to be social.

Dear Lord I’m tired of hearing that there is nothing to do and people are bored. Bordem can be a blessing. I’m sure bordem spurred the creation of the light bulb, telephone, computer, and so many other things we now take for granted everyday.

Dear Lord, let people realize this virus doesn’t discriminate. It doesn’t care if you are rich or poor, famous or not, it doesnt care about race, religion or orientation.

Dear Lord, help people that are getting frustrated with being sent home from work or moved away from in public for coughing and sneezing realize that the person that pushed them away may have an immunocompromised child, parent or spouse at home and it is nothing person, but rather they are terrified at the thought of having to have to send their loved one to be with you.

Dear Lord, these are times like we have never seen and we need to protect ourselves and one another, give us the wisdom to do so.

Amen.

Why my child isn’t on social media

For the millionth time I’ve been asked why we don’t post pictures of our son on social media. The simple answer is, it’s his choice when and if he has on online presence or not, not mine or my husband.

Just because he’s our child doesn’t make him our property, and one day he may not be happy to learn I assaulted my timeline, feed or whatever each platform calls it with his little face and happenings.

Quite frankly if someone wants to see pictures or know what he is up to they are more than welcome to request them or even better make time to see him in person.

I grew up in a time where we didn’t have social media and I was just fine not having pictures forever in cyberspace sprinkled with likes and hearts.

I often ask people that don’t get feelings on my child and social media how they would feel if I followed them around, took pictures of them and posted to my social media without asking. They almost always say it would be rude and creepy…case in point.

I know many people relish in posting pictures of their children but for us it just isn’t an option.

The letter of the day is F, for Firece

I’ve sat with myself many times since my mother’s passing just trying to feel something about it. Anything at all. I’ve heard it all, that’s still your mother….she had issues, you have to forgive. But the simple answer to everything thrown at me is toxic is toxic, and not only that but everyone has a choice to be better each day. She woke up everyday choosing to stay the same, and as a result of her own choosing, I feel the way I feel right now. Even if one day I wake up in hysterics at her loss…which I doubt, today I don’t feel that way.

This isn’t me being some spoiled brat that didn’t get their way, this is me being an adult that had a steamer trunk of neglect and abuse at the hands of a mother that likely only had a kid to ensure a way to get money without having to work, because for much of my life she didn’t work. She lived off government benefits, scams and whatever she was given by my father which was a lot.

I’m not saying her death didn’t stir anything, it did, just not grief or anything close to it. What it did stir, was a desire to be above and beyond anything I ever thought I could be. To be an inspiration because heck I already beat the odds so why be complacent now? It insipired a desire for us to figure out how to have our second baby. Heck and why not, I received the most amazing complement while discussing the whole situation, “You are a fierce mom”. For all the mothers out there you know we second guess EVERYTHING and ANYTHING we do, so being called fierce…heck yes it lit a fire.

It inspired a desire to perhaps start a business again…I had one before, and yes it did fail but I learned from the mistakes I made the first time around so who knows the next may thrive. And even if it doesn’t I will have shown my son I am not afraid to at least try and neither should he.

It’s amazing how an event followed by a five word sentence can inspire so much.

So thanks for the compliment, I will continue to be fierce…in all areas of me life.

Distant memories

I remember my junior high school graduation very well and not for the pride I felt but rather for the cluster fuck of events that preceeded and followed it.

My mother had a lot of self hate…I mean A LOT she didn’t like to acknowledge any of her African American roots. She prefered to identify as Dominican, however if she knew her history Dominicans are of African decendant too but you couldn’t tell her that. She would relax my hair constantly to keep it straight and tell me not to tell anyone it was relaxed.

Well about two or three months before graduation she saw an infomercial for this hair product called Rio if you look it up there was a big lawsuit and well yeah the company is no longer in business. This product was supposed to take all the curl out of hair like mine…so she bought it mixed it according to directions and slapped it in my hair. She figured it would be better than the constant relaxing she was doing since this promised less damge as it was supposed to be all natural, so natural you could eat it! so therefore she would be able to keep up the lie that my hair grew out of my head straight without questions about the obvious chemical damage.

When she rinsed this awful crap out of my head I knew I was headed for disaster. My hair felt like it was sticking to itself in clumps. She washed, conditioned and blow dried my hair cursing the whole time. For the next few weeks my hair broke off until I had a pixie type hair style. I didn’t go to school for a few days while I tried to figure out the best way to handle this catastrophe as it got worse and worse, when I did go back to school I wore hats. It getting to a point that I realized that I was going to have more graduation cap than hair. I was mortified. I went to the dollar store and bought clips and ribbons trying to trying to make the best of this hair that not only was short and damaged but I couldn’t get it to do anything but lay on my head as if i had gelled it down. When graduation came I did have more hair than cap. I tried to act unphased although I was so embarrassed.

On graduation day I left my things with my parents since we weren’t supposed to have anything on stage with us and I walked across the stage, took my diploma and smiled big. I looked into the crowd and saw the seats that my parents had been occupying were now empty and I turned to the door just in time to watch them step out. No biggie they probably went for a cigarette they wouldn’t leave.

Graduation over and my friends are all asking me to go to dinner with them and their families, I politely decline and say I’m going to find my parents…this is before cellphones so I literally walk my school grounds looking for them, they had everything including my bus pass, did they really leave!? We lived 4 miles away! I stood in front of my school for an hour before giving in. I had no money and no bus pass so I started walking home. I was so angry why would they leave? They couldnt wait and we all gonhome together? Why didn’t I just go with friends and get food…but then again i had no money. As I walked people were congratulating me on my graduation, and as I was so used to doing I put on a big fake smile said thank you and kept moving.

I made it a whole two miles before my feet were aching and I begged a bus driver to let me go the rest of the way, he gave me a hard time so I started to get off the bus when someone offered to pay my fare. I thanked them and sat quietly with my head down the whole trip. I just couldn’t believe they left me and took all of my things.

When I got home my mother was there alone she was already drunk and probably high, I asked where my father was she just said “the city”. I went in my room picked out a book lay on my bed and read. I was about 3/4 of the way through the book when I realized my father still wasnt home, he always came home, not like my mom. I was so worried but my mother didn’t seem to be.

We found out the next day he had been arrested for possession with intent to sell. He would be lucky. No jail time, probation and and counseling. This would be the beginning of him getting clean. Thank God.

Cleaning up messes

If there was one thing my mother was a pro at it was making everyone around her feel responsible for her shortcomings. Even in death she has people blaming themselves for her passing when she was well aware of the the consequences of her actions, she was an adult and she lived by the sword if I can be brutally honest.

My mother never owned a thing she did in life, even though she made hers and everyone else’s misery with her actions. She always had a way to put it on someone else, it was always someone else’s fault or problem and like clockwork they would come to me for answers. In many cases I was still a kid having to deal with adult issues, fight adult battles and getting thrown under the figurative bus for her to save herself.

I am so damaged as a result of the things I have been through with her, I’ve always had to fix her issues. Always left to clean up the mess, andin reality I still am. I’m left to reassure people there is nothing they could have done differently, no she wouldn’t have if you just… it never ceases, well at least it didn’t, but this will pass just as she did, as cold as that must sound. This is the last of the messes that I will have to clean up, the last band-aid I will have to affix and then I can finally move on and heal without looking over my shoulder wondering whats next and when the next thing is coming.

One thing I can take from this the realization that all that I have endured has made me a much better mother to my own child, who thank God won’t ever be left to clean up my mess, wont have to fix what I broke, and will never be used as a pawn.

The price tag on having a family…

Before I say anything at all, I want to start by saying yes, I know I said I wouldnt be greedy in a previous post, but is it greedy to love being a parent so much you want to do it again?

But of course as always it’s the treatment…we exhausted our insurance coverage for fertility treatments so its all out of pocket from here on out and that thought is stressful, and life always gets in the way, you save some something takes some or all of it, you save again and it’s something else.

I have heard it all “well if you can’t afford the treatment how can you afford a kid”🙄. Ummm….well. My child has never cost $5,000.00 in one shot so that argument is ludacris. Well if you cant get pregnant maybe that’s Gods way of saying you shouldn’t have kids🤬. My son is so loved, so cared for and well beyond his peer is milestones, learning and skills so….hmmm guess that argument is off as well. People including his doctor have complemented our parenting, how well adjusted and how smart our son is.

I guess my point is why is fertility treatment so expensive. I mean the hormone imbalance I have is the cause my infertility, and that requires treatment so in theory isn’t that part of my treatment because that is part of my medical condition? Makes sense to me but unfortunately thats not how it works. How it’s looked at is it’s elective procedure…not necessary so either go broke trying or don’t have kids. And yes I’m not dense ….science costs.

I am so grateful to the team of doctors that made my little boy possible, because he is my and my husbands everything always and they deserve to be paid for the amazing work they do I won’t ever deny that, but I would so love to not have to feel like there is a price tag on having a family, including an emotional one especially when its so easy for most. When the biggest complaint I hear from my very fertile counterparts is it took them 3 months!

It took us 5 years, countless needles, countless pills, countless blood tests, countless ultrasounds, 2 miscarriages and 2 ectopic pregnacies to have one completely amazing little boy. We fought. Hopefully we will get to fight again because staring into his little face was amazing and though it was a long hard fight we would do everything all over again.

The Call (Language Warning)

There is a call every child of an addict that

refuses to get clean knows that they will get one day. The one that starts with a detective introducing themselves….at that point you know one of two things happened, an arrest or a death…which is it? What mess are you going to have to clean up…yet again? The list mounts as they ramble on and give you the notification that they themselves have been dreading since walking on to the scene and the one you have been expecting for a lifetime.

Well my call came a few weeks ago. It was a death….overdose…..a number of pills….you can call the medical examiner at… would you like her things shipped to you? Did you hear me? Are you still there? Oh yes sorry thanks what was that number okay got it, have a good evening. Are you sure you are okay? Yes, she was an addict not really a surprise. Thanks again. Well if you need to talk, my number is….you can call anytime really….I know this must be a shock. Thank you I appreciate that, but no it really is not a shock, have a good evening, thanks.

This was the moment of truth, was I going to fall apart, be torn with emotion for a woman I once thought loved me but was damaged, but by her own lips her own words I learned and I quote “ I don’t give a fuck about you and I don’t give a fuck what you think about me”. Were my eyes going to well with tears at the thought of the loss of the woman that gave birth to me but then so callously neglected me?

Nope there is nothing, well not nothing really, there is a sense of peace that I have never felt before, and I am free. No more wondering what is next. No more worrying my child would become a victim of fraud or lies as I had so many times. Not having to worry about any more identity theft at least at the hands of her. In reality this was not a loss, you cannot mourn a person that was never truly there. In addition, in fact I had already mourned…I mourned the mother I wish I had but was never blessed with….but however you look at it this is a new chapter in life one with less heartache, less pain and far less disappointment.

Back yet again….

Well I took a bit of a hiatus…okay it’s been a few years I know but I’m back and still have 12 followers so let’s get ready for a bumpy ride…so much good bad and indifferent has happened in the last few years. Not to mention there are still many of my life experiences to discuss.

Glad to be back, I’m going to try to be better about posting more often than I have in the past.

Look out for my posts!

Just rambling…

It’s been an amazing few months to say the least. I got engaged and twenty five days later was married. But with all joy comes sadness we experienced 2 additional loses. 2 miscarriages early in the pregnancies however devastating nonetheless, it seems to me that we will never have our little family. I am not greedy; one child would be a blessing. And in all reality I wouldn’t even push it, if we were blessed with another after than great but if not we would have our one. My now husband has been amazing, he really does keep me grounded when we experience these loses.

One thing I am learning is that I am not the avid blogger I thought I would be as when something happens I retreat rather than throw my feelings out to my readers. I hope that you continue to read what I do post and not hold that against me.

I have much I would love to share from how I grew up to how I am currently living and I will get to it, just not rapid fire, I wish I had the energy for it to be otherwise but since I don’t the least I can do is be honest about it. I guess I have always been that way even with journaling I would say you know what not writing that makes it way to real and I would rather forget.

A part of me would like to blog about what my husband and I will soon be going through which is IVF. That is our last ditch effort to have our family and if it doesn’t work we have exhausted our options but I don’t know if chronicling a possible failure would be good for my health but we will see. You see the thing is I am losing faith that anything will work for us, losing faith that I will ever carry a baby to full term, that I will be able to look in my husband’s face when he sees our child for the first time and see a look of wonder, it isn’t a good feeling, in fact it frightens me.

All I have ever wanted is to be a mother and if I fail at that? Well I don’t want to think about that. I know I know everyone says oh but adoption…but adoptions can be forty thousand dollars plus, IVF has to work, it just has to we don’t have the funds to hand over to someone to adopt a child and then properly care for it as it deserves.

I had a friend tell me I should start a kickstarter or gofundme to pay for the cost of adoption or additional IVF cycles, but I have seen couples do just that and be attacked for asking for money for a child, people always saying well if you don’t have the money for this how would you care for them, and I don’t want to put myself or my husband through such judgement.

If all goes according to plan we will be starting our IVF cycle in April. I am hoping and praying this leads to our miracle baby and I can stop wondering what I have done so wrong in life to be deprived of being a mother. We shall see.

The greatest battle….

We all know we battle everyday to make things happen,to achieve  even what we think it’s impossible we still fight struggle wrestle and come through on the other side brush ourselves off and thrive. But what about when as much as we fight we end up back where we started. That is where I find myself. Once again mourning a baby that I will never know. Another birthday that will never come and memories that will never me made.
I find myself at a loss why does this keep happening.  Why is it so easy for some and for others it’s the battle of a lifetime.
I won’t give up by all means I’m a firm believer that if a dream in your heart then it will come to fruition. So I can’t lose sight of that I won’t.   But it doesn’t make it any easier. And those who have never been where you are give you the I’m so sorry look and make comments that are supposed  to help but cut like a knife.  I have emotional scars you wouldn’t believe from supposed helpful words and comments. But such is life and such is my life. 
Don’t get me wrong I’m not feeling sorry for myself but rather I can’t stop asking why.  I can’t stop asking why the woman that neglects her children is having one more, or why the addict down the street  has 5?
But I am still breathing and there is still time. It will come one day.