I am a grateful father

More importantly, parent

Through a gift that was God sent

Delivered by a mother

Time slips by without notice

Photos to remind my soul

Of a sacrifice untold

They grow from bud to lotus

And now my grey reminds me

Of broken bones and scraped knees

Diapers, prom, college degrees

Protect them to set them free

Now I sit to reminisce

Wishing I had done better

As my heart writes this letter

Of those early years I miss

My daughter is watercolor song

A blend of oil paint, chalk, and pencil

A free-form work without a stencil

A collage of talent, pure and strong

Her beauty draws you from the start

Deep chestnut hair to aqua eyes

Her humor takes you by surprise

I know, in life, she’ll leave her mark

Her passion flows from deep inside

Her portrait, brushstrokes from her heart

And all she does, a work of art

A masterpiece that gives me pride

Relative Trees

My son is strong, a young oak tree

His leaves move gently in the breeze

His shadow calms, puts me at ease

He is the tree I wish to be

My tree is rugged, rough, and torn

Life’s left it’s mark, my bark is worn

Leaves have fallen; my shade, forlorn

I’m not the tree that I was born

My son’s long branches reach the sky

Grows and flowers as birds come by

Watch in wonder and start to cry

As he bears fruit for passersby

My roots will keep his soil intact

And block the wind upon his back

And when the Man comes with His axe

I’ll be the one that He will hack

My son’s tree will live long and free

And he will bloom majestically

My stump will keep him company

Under his shade is where I’ll be

“Mommy,” you hear the child screaming for you as they continue to bang on the door. On the other side, the tears continue falling as you pray asking God for strength. Secretly, you hope they will eventually give up, but they don’t. Their crying only gets louder than yours. “Pull it together” you tell yourself as you look in the mirror, splash water on your face, and pull your hair pack. You finally open the door, and your child asks you “mommy why were you crying?” You reply, “mommy wasn’t crying” and just embrace them. The embrace brings comfort to you both, but inside you know it will not be long before you have another breakdown.

No one likes to talk about the challenges of parenting. Instead, we like to pretend like we have it all figured out. We are ashamed and embarrassed to admit that parenting is one of the most difficult, underappreciated, misunderstood jobs in the world. I am here to break the silence, and to speak on my challenges, and the challenges of those who have not yet (but one day will) be able to use their voice to reach an audience just like you.

How can you be emotionally available for someone when you are battling your own mental health? Having to attend to a crying, screaming child amid a panic attack is one of the hardest things to do. Or how about feeling the pressure of having to keep your child safe, but you cannot even protect yourself because you feel trapped in a violent relationship. How can you feel like you are doing “a good job” when you are on the verge of getting evicted or the lights are about to get cut off? How can you enjoy being a parent when your child has been diagnosed with a condition that consists of behavioral challenges, developmental delays, or even something life threatening? What happens when the truth whispers in your ear “you don’t enjoy being a mother.” I remember that night as if it were yesterday. I was sleeping on the porch following another episode of violence at the hands of his father. I felt like something was not right, so I went to the emergency room to find out I was pregnant. The love for our children is never the question. It is the circumstances that surround us that make it difficult to enjoy parenting.

No one likes to talk about challenges. Instead, we go on vacations, take pictures with matching outfits, and smile so no one sees through the dysfunction. Yet, none of that is real, and none of that can help someone who really needs it. My son has two more years before he graduates high school. I miss those nights when he would sneak into my bed with his million and one teddy bears. I miss him wanting to take pictures with me, and our holiday traditions. I miss the old us when it was just us. But those days are so far from me. Now, I am “bruh,” the lady who won’t stop yelling for him to take out the trash. The lady who sits in silence at the football games to ensure I do not embarrass him. He spends more time out with his friends than at home. I can only pray he makes the right decisions. But what happens when your teenage child finds every opportunity to remind you of your mistakes? What if the only person available to blame is you? How do you process angry and hurtful words? How do you forgive yourself?

How do you forgive yourself when your child is struggling with addiction, and you do not know how to help them? Or how do you forgive yourself when you continue to lose that very same battle and are unable to be what the parent they need and deserve? How do you forgive yourself when they told you they had been sexually abused but you never believed them? How do you try and raise a child to believe in God, when you lack faith yourself? How do you explain divorce to a child? How do you explain to your six-year-old child that we are moving because mommy needs a new start? How do you explain to a crying child that daddy won’t be back for months because he is helping to keep the world safe? How do you explain the death of a parent to a child?

I want you to know that I understand. I understand you on the days when it is the hardest. I understand you on the days you want to give up and on the days you feel alone. Do not give up! You are not alone. This is proof of it! There is no situation that is more difficult than the other. We are all trying to figure it out. It doesn’t matter if your child has graduated from the most prestigious college or has the most successful career. No parent is perfect, and we have all made mistakes along the way. I am here to tell you that it is okay. You are doing the best you can, with what you have (which just maybe you.) Please be gentle and kind to one another. Do not remind each other of past mistakes. Instead embrace one another. Share resources and words of encouragement. Pray for one another and create safe spaces to share the truths about the challenges of parenting. It takes a village to raise a child. I pray we all find our village of people who are willing to be there without casting judgement. Someone who will say “how can I help?” At different stages, our children require different things from us, and as they grow, we grow with them. May love forever bloom between you and your children.