Every mother’s day I get a deep longing inside to give thanks to my mother, but, sadly, the one I had wasn’t much of a mom. I didn’t grow up with a real mother most of my life, which really hurt me in more ways than one.
Why she left me I’ll never know because the story she told me, many years later, and the story my dad told me, are both believable.
I couldn’t wait for my dad to find another woman to marry, so she could become my mother. When the relationship didn’t work out, I was very disappointed. I didn’t dare express my desires to my dad, he would have yelled at me, so I kept my longings to myself.
My childhood was spent moving from one foster home to another. It hurt me deeply to see the other children with their mothers. I envied the time they spent together. It made me cry. I couldn’t understand why my parents separated; I was only 3 or 4 years old at the time.
Wherever I went, I saw mothers with their children. After awhile, I couldn’t bare to look, or listen, and retreated to my room, alone, with an unfulfilled longing to be held by my own mother, and told, “I love you.”
Seeing families together still hurts me to see, so I stay away from them. As much as I tried, I couldn’t become part of the families I lived with. With each new home I’d be put into, I’d hope this would be the one that’d really accept me.
I never did feel like I belonged to any of them, though the last place I lived in had a wonderful woman who made me feel wanted. She was the only one though, the rest of the family wasn’t happy with me at all.
Not having a mother, especially during the major changes in a girl’s life, is very painful. What little I learned of what to expect, came from others. When I asked her about something important about being female, she’d say a few words, but not give any real information.
I felt as if I were in her way, and I shouldn’t have asked those questions, but who else could I ask? Certainly not the other girls. Of all the foster moms I had,
I loved that woman dearly, and kept in touch with her for awhile after I left.
My first major life change was traumatic, and there was no one to comfort me. As would be a repeated scenario throughout my life, I was given only the bare basics, and then sent on my way, to figure out the rest of it, alone. The mother I should’ve had wasn’t there for me, and no one could take her place.
It was the same sad story throughout my life. At least I had a little bit of help during my first marriage, when I got pregnant. At that time, I had a few friends, and had access to a few agencies willing to help me, but none of them could take the place of having a mother to talk to.
Now as I enter midlife and the next big change, there’s no one to guide me through it. Once again I find myself walking an unknown path, alone. There’s no mother, grandmother, sister, or friend to advise, comfort me, and help ease me through this change.
Despite all this, I managed to survive, but it sure would be nice to have had a mother to look up to.
What kind of relationship did you have with your mother? Let us know. Email us at nathasha@audacitymagazine.com