Where does one start on the journey of unpacking their life's story {so far}? I am starting this series for two reasons: first is to be true to myself, and second is to be true to those who care to know the truth. It is not really a place to complain or be negative, it is more a place to unload some of the luggage I have picked up on my journey so far, and hopefully a place to set it down and walk away from it.
Just like when I have something that is troubling my mind, sometimes it helps to give pain a voice in order to truly release it. Not everything in my life is painful, I am truly blessed in so many ways; I will share that as well. So are you ready to learn the real story of my life?
A Rough Start
I can't imagine the thoughts that were going through my mother's mind as she discovered she was pregnant with me. I think about what was on my mind at 20, and it definitely was not children or marriage. Having been married a short amount of time, to a man she was likely more pressured to marry than actually wanted to, I can only imagine the fear and the turmoil of her innermost thoughts.
From what I know of my mother's details of her pregnancy with me, I feel lucky to have not been aborted. I remember her telling me that she got pregnant "on birth control." While that may have been true, that disclosure has created a level of brokenness in my heart that only now, as a mother myself, I have begun to recognize.
I was not wanted.
I do not believe she loved my father, and I do not believe he loved her either. That may seem freakishly harsh or hard to stomach, but society in general was still largely supportive of marrying people because procreation had happened, whether accidentally or on purpose. What a healthy way to start a lifelong commitment!
Despite knowing that I was an accident, and not of the joyfully received "oh well" kind, I was brought into this world, via c-section, on a warm summer morning, September 1st 1981. I was handed off to two adults who were ill-prepared to take care of me; too young, too naive and too selfish to be given the divine privilege of raising a child.
I was their second-born.
I have no memories of my parents being together, just a few old photographs lost in the fray. Shortly after my little sister was born, things went in their marriage went from ugly to worse. Their divorce came swiftly and the back-and-forth between both homes began. I believe my parents were divorced by the time I was 2. My mom became a single parent to three young daughters by age 22.
I cannot judge her decisions or properly weigh them in my mind, everything I feel toward my childhood is locked within a child's perspective. It makes processing what I've been through difficult and sometimes seemingly impossible. I was brought into this world under the weight of darkness and struggle, and maybe I was loved to some degree by those who conceived me.
But, I've learned a thing or two about love.
Love is a willful choice. Love is a commitment. Love is not an emotional response based on favorable circumstances. What I've learned about love, I've learned from my deepest love: God. And, I'm still learning. Despite coming into the world an accident, burdened by the heavy pain in my mother's heart, I know without a doubt I was meant to be here. I know that my mother chose life, and despite what her deepest fears were, she still carried me and delivered me.
I am grateful to have been born, though from time to time in my life I have wished otherwise. I am not sure I will ever fully understand my beginning in life. I may never know in my heart whether I was truly loved by my biological parents the way Jerry and I love our daughter.
Yet, I choose to love them regardless.
