If you had any shred of decency left in you
You’d stay away from my boo
To that little boy
I’m the only one that’s true
If I could flip it all back
Spin it all around and let you see
Literally the little me…..
Nurturing, loving, carrying him through
When not everyone else was always onboard too
I’m the only thing and woman he’s ever really known

Now he’s sitting here looking at me full grown
What you tried to protect your whole life, sits there looking at you like you’ve just ripped out a knife
What I tried to avoid his whole little life
Will he ever understand that all mommy every wanted was to make a good man?
Can’t he please just understand?
This precious seed turns around and now questions me, how dare he?
I can’t explain it all, I don’t know how I could
If I could lay it all out right here, right now trust me I would
Let it all go for good
Let you see all my choices weren’t always the smartest
But always out of love and always for good

I guess protection is a strange thing
You want to take them under your wing
You don’t realize how much you cling
Well, here we are young man, here I stand
This is all of me, still standing, still fighting
Always will
At least I will try
I hope one day you understand

Love Always,
Your “Teen” Mom

Clear the road- I am 16!!
Happy birthday, my sweet boy.
This is when I legally run out of excuses to get you that driver’s permit. This is when I nervously let go of your last little finger , only to grasp and firmly shake your hand in friendship🤝 This is when many transitions happen. This is when some of it makes sense to you but a lot more does not. This is when the world suddenly looks weirder, scarier, cooler, exciting, fun,crazy and different for you, all at the same time. Then is when we may agree to disagree on a lot. Remember, nobody has it all figured out entirely, neither have I, neither will you.
But I promise to try and understand..I promise to stay onboard, face the tides and ride the unending high and low waves of life side by side with you forever and ever and ever.
Love,
Amma

“Mom. Mom. MOM!” Dawson yelled.
Why did he insist on calling me from upstairs? Was I the only one with legs in this house? I started up the staircase, muttering as I climbed. I reached the top and found Dawson sitting on his bed meticulously inspecting a sweatshirt in his hands.
“What do you want?” He looked up, clearly as annoyed as I was though not for the same reason.
“Mom, why didn’t you try harder to get this stain out of my sweatshirt?” I strained to see what he was pointing to. He shoved the sweatshirt inches from nose and still the spot was barely visible.
“Did you try all of the stain removing products?” He demanded more than questioned. I resisted glancing at the clock on the wall which would inevitably announce how late this ridiculous conversation was making us. The cats circled his unmade bed, meowing for their breakfast. He’d put on a t-shirt but was still wearing pajama bottoms and hadn’t brushed his hair by the looks of it. All those unfinished tasks yet to be ticked off the morning list caused a nervous twitch at the corner of my eye. I called upon my inner yoga-mom, took a deep breath, exhaled.
“You did not tell me it had a stain when you threw it in the wash, so I washed it. That set the stain making it nearly impossible to remove. When I finally noticed the stain, I treated it several times and re-washed it, still to no avail.”
His eyes widened; he dropped his sweatshirt on the bed. “So, you’re just going to give up?” His voice cracked.
I scanned his face certain he must be pulling a fast one on me. His tight expression revealed otherwise. But instead of conjuring feelings of motherly compassion, I lost my temper altogether.
“Dawson, half my life is likely over. I am not going to spend what precious moments I have remaining scrubbing a stain out of a six-dollar sweatshirt. You’re young. If you want to scrub that stain, have at it. Knock yourself out. But I’m done. Now get ready.”
The drive to school was mostly silent and I had a chance to calm down and see the incident for what it really was, a vehicle to channel emotions he was feeling but hadn’t the words to express. We were both having a hard time accepting this next step, but we’d agreed on it. This was the last day Dawson would attend high school. At least for the year, I was officially withdrawing him.
I pulled into my usual designated handicapped parking spot and unlocked the doors. Dawson cast an accusatory look at me because of course I was breaking the law. But for like three minutes, I reasoned. He snatched his pencil, an eraser, and a protein bar, from the stash in the glove compartment, grabbed the car door handle.
“Hey, babe,” I reached across the seat, laid my hand on his shoulder, “The stain will fade over time. All stains do.” He smiled back at me.
“Love you, too Mom.”
I drove to the district office as if to a graveside, with a heavy heart. I walked slowly up the steps and straight to the receptionist’s desk.
“Hi, I’m here to withdraw my son from school.”
She looked at me with a confused expression. “So, you want to take him out of school?”
I nodded.
“Do you want to homeschool him?” she asked.
“Oh god, no.” She raised her eyebrows, and I was immediately embarrassed by my response. I explained I wanted to fill out paperwork to withdraw him from school, take him out, nothing else. She picked up the phone to call someone upstairs with more authority. It only took a few moments for the woman from upstairs to make it downstairs. She listened to my story, nodded.
“Yes, I’ll get the paperwork for you.”
It was involuntary, the tear that rolled down my nose and landed right where I needed to sign my name.
The woman with more authority leaned into me, patted my shoulder. “He can always come back,” she assured.
I thanked her for her kindness. I wondered if she could feel my failure. I wondered if she knew this was my second son to drop out, that I couldn’t inspire even one of my children to finish school. I thanked both women and made my way back to the car.
Inside the silent vehicle, I leaned onto the steering wheel. Rested my head for a moment. I closed my eyes and just breathed. Dawson never did have a decent day in school, especially once his father left. Every day had been a constant struggle with his tears, anxiety, and the effects of his obsessive-compulsive disorder. For my part, I’d simply tried everything I could. I threatened, bargained, bribed, begged and finally yesterday, I agreed to let him drop out. It was going to happen in less than six months when he turned eighteen anyway. Why prolong the inevitable.
Was I giving up? Maybe. For sure I was being forced to give up on my dreams and expectations for what I believed his life should be. And I’d have to learn to live with the stain it would leave on my mom-heart. But I reminded myself that it would fade over time. All stains do.

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.

I loved you before you saw me, before our eyes locked, when we shared a heartbeat. I dreamed of you. I imagined what you would look like when I held you in my arms for the first time. I never realized that I would have to break our bond so that you could thrive.
You see, I had a monster that followed me. He broke my heart and he broke my bones.
My spirit was the last to go when he attacked my beautiful dreams of raising you with your brothers and sister. The very thought of the monster finding us, and involving you, drove a sword deep into my chest and pierced my heart. Your innocence had to be protected. I searched my soul and found you a promising Mother and Father.
I knew they would protect you, that they would teach you to be the best man there ever is/ was. I trusted them to love you, and to honor our precious bond. Things turned out so terribly wrong for me. I’m deeply grateful that everything is amazing for you. Except that my heart broke into a thousand mini pieces the day that I had to say goodbye to you. In the rain, as they wheeled me out of the hospital holding your car seat so close to my heart your beautiful eyes locked onto mine. I felt so ashamed. I loved you so much my beautiful Son. I handed you over to your the wonderful man that was to become your Father. I believe in that moment, I felt my heart snap. You started to cry, and suddenly everything I thought I was doing that was right felt so terribly wrong. I think that it was the breaking of what had been our bond. I never saw you again. They had to move far away, and they told me that they would let me be a part of your life, but you still do not know me. I only receive pictures of you on Christmas, and sometimes your birthday. I never quite understood how a heart could be broken by a situation, yet coming to a realization of the situation being a blessing in disguise would make it whole again.
That will make no sense at all to many, all that matters is that I know what I am saying. It’s not an “adoption” they are your guardians, yet they are your Mother, and Father to me. However; You are still my Son too. I don’t want to confuse you so I stay far away. I open your pictures when I receive them, and I pray. I hope that one day, you will understand that they needed you, and WE needed them. I am kind of your mother, I love you more that you will ever know. I just hope our bond is strong enough that you will not be harmed by my decision to give you the world while mine was quaking and crumbling with fear and unstableness. They gave you everything that I could not. I love you…

Never in a million years would I have ever thought it would be YOU.
To bring my heart so much pain like throwing salt on an open wound
You were my why and one of the most special gifts from God that I truly admired.
Wanting the best life for you gave me reason to work harder.
I wanted to be the mother to you that I always longed for and
what was once a blessing now seems like a curse
Oh, how I never thought the tables would turn.
Though I will always love you my heart resembles a broken glass and
Though pain and disappointment has cut me so deep
I just cover it up with a mask.
How could you say you love me yet cause me so much pain
I’m constantly worried and praying for you.
while you’re out without a care in the world dancing in the rain
When you sit back and reflect on your life
All of your happiest moments were due to MY sacrifice.
Now I’m lucky if you would even consider my advice
You have transformed from my baby, my first love
To a person that’s intentionally toxic in my life and
As I try to figure out what caused this change I have yet to figure out why
But as much as you have hurt me
I cant find it in my heart not to love you
Just know my objective was always to the best mom I could ever be to you
But with the results I see I count it as a mission failed
But I know God can change anything.
So in the meantime, I’m waiting for him to prevail.