Mother's Day

This is actually a pretty tough day for me. I know amazing mothers - I celebrate all of them today, as well as my own, but it is complicated. My mother was undiagnosed bi-polar, a survivor of parental abuse herself, and a young wife and mother with two babies in two years. She needed help and support from her new husband, who was working very hard to care for his new family. I was an unplanned and difficult pregnancy. When I was born my mother was hospitalized for six months - probably a combination of bipolar and postpartum disorder - no-one ever told me, but that is what I have pieced together. 

As my mother was singled out for abuse, so I was I. I didn't meet her until I was six months old, and by that time I had attached and bonded with my father and grandmother. She irrationally saw me as a rival for my father's attention and resented me and as I grew, abused me - emotionally and physically. When I was about five I heard the words "I wish I had gotten rid of you when I had the chance.". My five-year-old understanding just knew she didn't want me - as I grew up and learned what that really meant the words took on more. It's the baseline of what I fight against every day - not being loved or loveable by your own mother. A big piece in the Deborah puzzle.

I have long since forgiven her - I feel a lot of sympathy for her own pain and lack of support when she needed it. Unfortunately, there isn't much of a relationship to build off of. I do my best - I sent a card, made a painting of her cat, chipped in for the bouquet. I also called. Got voicemail. My family doesn't go anywhere, especially now. This is the new thing. My calls are screened and not answered. My dad will send me a sheepish email later saying how much my call meant. I'm a voicemail child. 

Even so, I try to remember some good things about my mother - here are a few:

Mom
I remember you as very beautiful with black shiny hair and sparkly brown eyes.
I remember the delicious things you used to bake and cook.
I remember how much you love cats and how our cat Newton was your best friend.
I remember how you once laughed when my pony and I fell into a mud puddle.
I remember I was once given the Winnie the Pooh bear instead of my sister, who got Piglet. (I couldn't believe I got the Pooh)
I remember your sadness.
I remember your retreat into loneliness.
I saw your pain.
I wanted you to love me but you couldn't.
I love you anyway.