A little over fourteen years ago, I heard the news: "You are pregnant!" I was ecstatic that I was charged with rearing a child. A girl child. I began practicing my parenting skills long before I ever conceived. Yes, I received on-the-job training, whilst caring for my nephews, my niece, and/or my friends’ children. It was only fair for me to think that I was a self-proclaimed "professional" mother. Ha! Self-reflection is simply the best reflection. As the summer of 2000 was drawing to an end, my new life as a mommy was just about to launch. My boyfriend, turned husband, and I were fervent to welcome our little bundle of joy into the world. Our world was perfect. We were ready; hospital bag packed, Lamaze classes completed, cradle assembled, and all of her little clothes smelled like Dreft detergent. However, three weeks before my scheduled due date, my tenacious and beautiful daughter, decided that her time was NOW and there was no time to waste.
The first phone call was made to my mom, around midnight, to let her know that my water was leaking. Shortly, after the call, reality hit and my excitement quickly turned to anxiousness. I had a million questions going on in my head, not to mention my heart was pumping a trillion beats per minute. Can I really be a good mom? What if the name we chose did not fit her face, or her personality? Wait! My mom is not here! She is not scheduled to come for another three weeks; can I do this in her absence? Where is my “mommy" handbook? The tiny voice in my head said, “Settle down and do not forget to breathe.” My mom instructed me to call the hospital, explain the current situation, and then call her back. I followed directives only to arrive at the hospital, in premature labor, just past 2 a.m.. Sixteen hours after “the leak,” my life’s course changed, forever.
It was love at first sight! I was head-over-heels in love with this tiny little person. It was a love that I cannot explain; a love that stimulated my maternal instincts. My baby was perfect, she was healthy, she was beautiful, and she was mine. Her name was a suitable match for her face and her divine nature. She was the tangible meaning of God’s love for us; she mattered to me, and I would protect her at all cost.
Years passed and she grew, she grew up as a valiant and radiant young lady. She was so full of compassion, love, and discernment. She was not as trusting with people as I had been in my youth, thank God for righting that wrong. She was wired to analyze a situation before stepping into it; that is a gift, a gift that should be enhanced and cultivated. How could I do that? How could I possibly develop and cultivate another life when I had been broken, battered, and bruised?
2012, (if you’ve read any of my other blogs, then you will know that was a tough year for us) rolled around and I, as a parent, lost focus. I was not as attentive to my daughter as I had been in the years past. I loosened my reigns because I was knee-deep in my own “sheep.” My daughter was faced with making a choice of living with her daddy or her mommy. Her family was torn and she was stuck in the middle. My God, how would we possibly rebound from this tragedy? After all, I was the person that vowed to protect her, at all cost, but I had simply betrayed her trust. I had walked out on her to plan my new life.
Could I have ruined her because I was being selfish with my desires? She had never known any other life. It had always been the three of us. Could she, or better yet, would she ever trust me again? What if I left her to think "the" split was her fault. Maybe, just maybe, she thought she could have done something differently to keep her family together. What she did not realize was her mommy, me, with my whole heart, felt as though I was making the best decision. The best decision for both of us; a sole decision that I would later come to regret.
I have heard all of my life, “you do not stay because of the kids.” “Live your life and the kids will adapt.” My precious baby girl was going to be a statistic of this “disposable” society, all because I was looking for a worldly happiness that did not exist. If I did not get a grip on chasing “life’s happiness,” her perception of life, relationships, love, and trust would be skewed. My attempt to justify my actions were along the lines of: “I’m tired of sacrificing my happiness,” or “I have already given up all of me, what is left to give?” I never stopped for one moment to think of my daughter’s feelings, her emotions, her needs, her expectations, or her future womanhood/motherhood. The one thing I NEVER said was “God, give me the wisdom, strength, and tools to keep my family together.” Without hesitation, I packed my bags and moved four states away to start a new chapter in my book of life.
Roughly, two weeks after I sought my new beginning, I was in transit back to Texas to attend my daughter’s final dance recital of the season. Prior to my return, the interaction between my husband and I were screaming bouts, often ending with harsh words, or abrupt hang-ups. Man, if I could not function; how on earth could I expect my “preteen” daughter too? The truth is a hard pill to swallow, especially when you know you are wrong. My truth of me not leaving in an adult-like manner and playing the victim to my circumstances, was there waiting for my return, in the form of my family. That is right; I had to face my impromptu wrong way of leaving.
Now, that I am fully aware that God is always in control, even when we are disobedient and crass. When I said I was tired, He said “take a break.” When I said I could not take another step, He said “they are already ordered and I will carry you.” When I said I cannot put another ounce of effort into it, He said “finally, you have hit bottom and I can take control; Rest!”
It would not be for another few months, after I returned to my home in Texas, that I would have a spiritual encounter with God. My encounter would be powerful enough for me to humble myself and ask my daughter for forgiveness. I would not realize until the weakest point of my life, that God would show Himself true by allowing my daughter to grab my hand and say, “Oh mommy, I forgave you, when you left and before you came back.” There is a different sense of confidence building in children when a parent is big enough or small enough to ask a child for forgiveness. It puts the ball back in their court and gives them the authority to make a decision to be forgiving.
For the last two years of my life, I have been in the process of rebuilding a relationship with a resilient and God-fearing young woman. I will say, I respect her faith. I can say she is a bigger woman than most women that I see. Her voice is loud and it does matter. The calling on her life is huge because she is destined for greatness. She is so full of love, compassion, and empathy. She may bend but she will not break; her spiritual foundation has been laid and her purpose has been planned.
I made up my mind long before I became a mother, that I would not pass on my noticeable flaws to any of the children that I bear. My daughter has taught me the first and second rules of life: 1. how to love and 2.how to forgive. The old folks used to say, “children are to be seen and not heard,” and the new folks say, “children are to be seen AND heard.” The old way of parenting has led us to a new generation of non-parents; there simply has to be balance. But as for me and my house, we will serve the Lord all the days of our lives and when He speaks, we listen. We are no longer individuals operating as such; we are a well-tuned, well-oiled machine operating as a unit. When one of us has something to say we hold a family meeting and we talk through it. Our previous methodology of individual thinking allowed us to be divided and conquered; our joy came the morning that our sensitivity to God’s will was revealed in our lives.
In this blog, I had to be brutally honest with myself. It was imperative that I got my head out of the clouds or I would have dragged my kid through MY mud. She would have been a casualty because of my lack of direction. Personally, I know so many parents that operate out of a state of frustration, hurt, pain or repetitive previous generational/cultural behaviors. Those parents do not realize, their children are just as hurt, confused, and indecisive; why would they be any different? Three of my favorite “P” words are: Perception. Perseverance. Purpose. Your life’s purpose will dictate your child’s perception of how life should be. Their perception will shape their ability to persevere in the midst of adversity.
If you are looking for the “correct” way to raise children in a fallen world, you must look within yourself, assess your life, and check your spiritual temperature. Place realistic expectations upon your child(ren), stop expecting them to be something that you are not capable of displaying or being; but do encourage them to be better than you, encourage them to be bigger than you; encourage them to be more excellent than you. Remember, the only way to break a generational stronghold is to keep the Word of God in your mouth, as well as, change what the previous generation instilled. Children are "typically" a reflection of their parents mental, spiritual, and physical state. What does your child’s reflection say about you; better yet, what does your reflection say about you as a parent? If the reflection is smoke in mirrors or unpleasant to look at, then I suggest you do the following: Be the change. Be the light. Be the platform to life. ~jess
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