Just A Recap
In 1991, I started a new life. On a Monday, it was a rainy football night, I gave birth to a 4 pounds 6-ounce baby boy. I was 15 years old. After the nurses swaddled him in a blanket and placed him in my arms, I began to cry. I was filled with this intense, overwhelming feeling of love. It was amazing. In those immediate minutes after giving birth and seeing my son for the first time, I was in love. As I cried, I told him that I love him and that I was going to be the best mother for him. As I continued to cry and say these things, I made up my mind that I would not become a victim of my circumstance. I was told numerous times that I wouldn't graduate high school. I did. I was told that I would not go to college. I did. (which is another story for another time.) I was told chances and opportunities wouldn't be the same for me. They were. I was told I wouldn't have many options because I had a child. Well, perspective is as perspective does. The thoughts and negativity of others brought me to shame. There were many times when I held my head low. I often doubted who I was and who I was to become. I’d get those looks and stares that people give when they are judging you. I caught glimpses of the dismissive eye rolls. To my credit, and what the haters didn't know, I had (and have) a village - my family and friends. I also had will and determination. I knew I was destined to be greater than my circumstance. My son changed my life. He changed my thinking. He changed some of my actions. Just as I was blessed with my son, I was blessed with a daughter. At 18 years old, I became a mother of two. This was not intentional on my behalf, but it was God’s plan. Again, I did not hold my head down for long. I had my village. Just as they were there for me at 15, they were there for me now. This little bundle of joy was everything. I knew I would be raising the best little girl ever. Let me tell you! She was the cutest, cuddliest, and plumpest little bundle of joy. As an adult, she’s petite and cuter and more brilliant. She’s still my baby. My son and my daughter have a sister. Yes, a third child. My unicorn. She is a magical and mystical creature. She’s independent and somewhat complex, intelligent, and talented. She’s the epitome of “doing her own thing”. She is a brave, wild, and free spirit in the most positive sense of it. She is kind and loving and my spirit animal. She can do just about anything she sets her mind to. My God sister says she is inhabited by a spirit that knew she would be going places. It’s 2021, I am 45 years old now. I don’t envy anyone who chose to live their lives in a “different order”. The spiritual force that reconciled my dealings when I was a teenager knew my order. He knew what, why, who, and when. I became a vessel that brought forth life at the right time. My children are great forces as well. They are a brightness in the lives of so many. Trust me, if you know them, you know. They have done, are doing, and will continue to do amazing things. One of them is probably teaching your child. Did I mention they are educated? I am not bragging nor boasting about my children. I speak highly of them, as a proud mother should, when given the chance. If I don’t, I would burst at the seams holding all this love and joy and excitement in. They are not perfect. They have flaws. But why talk about what doesn’t matter? Lol! I truly love and adore my children. They prompted me to be who I am today. They produced purpose in me. They are my gifts, and I am grateful to God for allowing me to be their Mah, Momma, Mommy, and Mother. Disclaimer: Part of this story is from a speech I presented. I changed it a bit to make it more enjoyable. Some of this may be familiar to you, but it really is about what I love most, my children.