Playing tag was one of my favorite childhood games. You must touch base in order to stay in the game, so eventually– there’s no hiding. For some odd reason, I loved to be the person who got tagged. It was the anticipation that led to being caught. Knowing you gave it all you got, and yet you still were chosen. An indescribable feeling.
“Mommie, Mommie, Mommie!” At 24, it’s still unreal that being a mother is my norm. I sometimes forget to eat and out of nowhere, “Mommie, what I’m about to eat though?” Sounds silly, but my God– I have to house you, clothe you, teach you, and feed you 24/7? How do I pick myself up and overcome my childhood trauma, life’s adversities, and whatever the hell else, if there’s a little one needing my assistance and energy at the same very time? Being a mother was on my to do list, but at 20 years old? Hell no. I’m still in undergrad, trying to break this one generational curse of higher education and you mean to tell me I couldn’t even break the generational curse of having a child at an early age? What the hell was I thinking about keeping a child? I had aspirations of becoming the next Miss Grambling, gone. I had aspirations to travel for internships, gone. And to top it all off— child’s dad, gone. How could I possibly have this child and give them what I so much desired. I HAVEN’T EVEN PROCESSED THE VOIDS I FELT AS A DAUGHTER.
Nevertheless, a game of tag & unfortunately.. I'm it.
Momma Lex, a nickname given in undergrad, had evolved. People didn’t know that this unintentional identity was a reason for simply— me. I actually enjoyed the name and apparently as much as I enjoyed taking phones when it was time to study. I was that motherly spirit in the friend group and to those I was close to. But could I really pull off pushing a child out of me and toting ‘it’ around campus, like my infamous hot pink Betsey Johnson backpack? If you know, you know.
Nine months. You can do this. Pfft. Laughable. Nine months has now turned into my name being called 9 times in 30 seconds, because the yellow crayon colored brown— after it was used to color over the brown tiger…. All while I try to take a quick 5 minute shower (to cry) alone because remember “you don’t ever let anyone see you cry”. Even if she’s 1 and cannot understand what is going on. Do you recall playing tag and hiding so well that you’re actually forgotten? Bingo. Motherhood 2.0. You begin to watch your friends grow, make decisions without a child, become financially free (because it’s only them and they don’t have to make executive decisions of diapers and baby food), party, study peacefully, nap longer, go to work without finding a babysitter, and just live life. Of course you are not upset because you have a child and responsibilities, and they do not– but you begin to feel left out and alone. Watching your friends live life effortlessly while you sit and wait on a miracle.
You had nine months to prepare for the change, and yet– it’s here and you’ve got nothing. The emotional battle of being a single mother, when all in life you just wanted a mother? When looking back and remembering the little girl I was, I knew I was missing a few things emotionally. A feel of protection, empathy, softness. I never seemed to feel safety until I became this girl that was needed for safety. I begin to realize, damn— this is coping. You are a mother to all because the child in you longed for this. Embodying characteristics you believed were missing out of your life, as early as 8 when you were stuck in the house watching a baby because the family was “on the porch being grown folk.” You were the protector, the shoulder to cry on, the supporter, the Momma Lex. You became your wildest dreams. And somehow, everyone saw that before you did.
The first year of being a mother came with PPD, abuse, and honestly too much to spill. BUT it also came with love. The unconditional love I felt was a PRICELESS feeling. I began the reconstruction of what I thought a mother should be. Oftentimes, I was confused and lost but it built me as a woman. The young lady I used to be would be proud of the woman I am today.
At first, I would show my “motherly instincts” as an input and that didn’t need to be said, trying to control every situation because controlling the situation to me was not being talked over, not being touched, and not being used. Though, meant well- the actions lacked boundaries. People took my ‘aggression’ as a rude demeanor when I was just blunt and not trying to be controlled. Because the child in me was. So how do I change that aggression and use it as a progression of an anti-aggression, but not show meekness to those who do not deserve it? Now, changing the view and ‘Tag’s’ rules. You’re it. You decide how the game goes now. My challenge began when I became a mother. How do I channel my aggression now as a mother and change my demeanor as a woman to become loved, respected, and desirable?
You never realize how much of a problem your childhood characteristics you grew into are a problem OR that they even became you. You don’t even have to be a mother. Growing into your womanhood, until you #1. Can’t be understood or #2. Can’t find a man and #3. You cannot accept your need for characteristic growth, you will not grow into the good of that specific characteristic. I truly believe that until you cannot excel, or have a stump in that excellent, there’s no desire to grow. Even then, the effort to grow comes from the want of anew.
Life's limitations come in the form of obstacles that you don’t necessarily see as limitations. Mine was a child. To the too aggressive woman that may have been raised without a mother or motherly spirit, I see you. Own your aggression, yet refocus it. Learn to listen up and see the problem that others see, there’s always a solution. Turn the characteristics that were grown in you, into characteristics that grew with you. I have accepted that my lack of a mother's feel has grown as my own characteristic as a mother. With the ability to welcome opinions and becoming a mother, I was able to see the growth that was needed. I was able to process the mother I needed to be and the woman I wanted to become.