Is there a way to know?

Sometimes I think to myself that it's easy to judge what makes a good or bad mom. On the train, you hear a mom call her daughter a "little bitch" and it makes you cringe. Mom smacks little boy across his face for wanting candy and you remember Katt Williams say "He's 2 years old, he's supposed to want Skittles, you simple bitch"-easy judgments in my book. I revoke their mommy card immediately and maybe that's wrong, but maybe it's not. But forget about the easy stuff. Forget about the things we see that we make jokes about, or report on our status updates, or share via text message. What about all that isn't seen, but is felt like hot coal? What about the interactions that no one would ever know or hear about without our disclosure-the ones that actually in essence cement the foundation of our beings. It's not dramatic, let's face it a parent can make or break a lot of who and what we are. At one end of the ring, we strive to be everything that parent was not and at the other end of the ring, we look in the mirror and realize that the 'enemy' sits firmly in the middle of our chests. Some of our worse habits can be traced back up the gene pool with ease as we simultaneously praise ourselves for not being "as" selfish, ignorant, and flawed as Mommy or Daddy Dearest.

I look at my son and I wonder what mistakes I will make, what mistakes I've already made, and whether I'll ever do some really great stuff in his life. I joke that every kid needs something to talk about in therapy, but who really wants to be the focus of that conversation? Not I said the cat; especially when week after week I find myself bashing one parent or the other in my own therapy sessions. I've struggled with whether or not therapy is self-indulgent. After all when was the last time a woman of color got a minute, let alone 45, to talk about all that is wrong without having to find the solutions for someone else's problems? Don't worry, I'll wait. I've spent so much of my short life taking care of other people that talking about situations where I've REALLY been wronged or people FAILED to take care of me is HARD. Hating my stepfather or my real father and talking about the reasons is difficult, but stepping up to the plate to swing at my mother has been the hardest conversation I've ever had to have.

If I had to put it in simple terms, my stepfather abused me, my biological father neglected me, and my mom just failed to act. She never came up to the plate for me or my siblings. She never fought back. She never did right by us. She always chose him or maybe worse, maybe she always chose herself. She didn't want to be a single mom. She didn't want to be on public assistance forever. She didn't want us to grow up without fathers. These days she talks about divorcing my stepfather and all I keep thinking is "well that's a day late and a dollar short". I battle chronic depression, my sister has anxiety attacks, my youngest sister has an eating disorder, and well my younger brothers (who are still in middle & high school) are early in their visual dysfunction. One dabbled in the usual acting out behaviors, smoking weed, drinking, truancy and the other has decided that stealing and lying is okay as long as he gets what he wants. Ask him why he does certain things and at 12, he'll answer, "Cuz I want attention. Just some attention". I can pat my parents on the back for making sure we all, at least, valued education and hard work. But I can also provide them with a big "F*ck you" for being selfish bastards.

Yesterday I told my mother, "I've decided to eliminate people from my life that don't contribute positively to it and refuse entry to new people who won't contribute positively". Silence on the phone. Hmmm, let's guess what mommy is thinking. #1) She's thinking I'm talking about my stepfather (she's mostly right) & #2) She thinks I'm talking about her (guilt sure is a motherf*cker when you're actually wrong). I ask her why she's quiet and she answers as only she can, "Oh no, nothing. I respect your opinion, it's just that you sound bitter and I don't think you'll always feel that way". Hmmm, no shit Sherlock, you let our father abuse us for years and yet you want us to still come around and play nice. Even though, he's still a selfish alcoholic. He still hasn't apologized to anyone for the years of misery. And he has yet to make any attempt to become a different man.

Me on the other hand-I fight like hell to keep my head above water so I'm not on antidepressants. My sister's anxiety attacks have become more frequent. And I just saw my youngest sister who is once again so thin her eyes look black as if she's been punched. I asked her about it and she looks at me with obvious pain and says "You know, good weeks, bad weeks. It's a bad couple of weeks, I've just been thinking alot".

F*ck you dad for being an abusive, remorseless prick & f*ck you mom for being a coward.

"I don't think you'll always feel that way"

Guess what? I don't know what later will feel like or look like, but I know today and today you suck. And i like to think that my son will NEVER think of me in this way, but is there a way to know? Will I choose my needs over his? Will I ever choose a man over my baby? Will I sit back and watch evil and misery chip away at my little boy's soul? I once heard in a clinical training that trauma slowly destroys a child's ability to dream. Little by little, that child will begin to limit what they believe they can do in life, what they believe can happen, what they believe people are capable of. Would I let my son lose that faith? Would I help him lose it? I think to myself, "Hell no, I know better", but is there a way to know?

Could my mom have ever dreamed at 16 that she would still sleep with a man who hurt her daughter even after she knew?

Could my mom ever dream as a child that she would be punched like a man in front of her kids by her husband?

Could she dream that she would then wake up the next day and make him breakfast?

Could she dream that her oldest daughter would eventually be her protector?

Could she dream of just how much it broke her spirit to be that?

Empathy would ask me to put myself in her shoes and understand her fears, her concerns, her limitations. But Anacaona would say I would never wear those shoes so why bother? I love my mother in the most painful of ways, but I'm ashamed of her weakness. Growing up I thought my mom was so strong to put up a brave front for the world when she suffered so much. It took me years to identify that strength as "fear". Fear of change, fear of loneliness, fear of the unknown. And shit we're all scared of some/all of these things, but it does not freeze us all. Why couldn't my mother do better? Simply do better. Simply love better. Choose better. Be better.

I could run circles around the possible reasons and grow dizzy from the possibilities, but aside from all the clinical excuses, is there a real way to know? What could anyone tell me now to heal? To forget? To be.

And if I knew any more, any deeper, would I be any different? Is there a way to know?

Mom meets blog

I would like to write a post about mommyhood. I've been thinking about what I would write and have even rewritten it in my head a couple of times. The only problem is that I'm too tired to write/type it. I know that if I start, it will be longer than I expect and frankly I don't have it in me. So I'll just share the first few things that come to mind before I fall asleep on the keyboard:

1. My son shits alot...I think he got it from his momma lol-It's better than him being constipated...except that middle of the night shitty diaper changes have led to shit on my finger or hand on more than one occasion...shit that I haven't noticed until I crash back into the bed and...well you let your imagination run with that-
2. My breasts hurt-I love breast feeding Joseph and I hate breastfeeding Joseph. More to come another day.
3. If you see me on the news and my identity is revealed, it will be because my boyfriend has gone missing and I am the main suspect. My motive: Once again, the baby will not go to sleep until 6 or 7 am. My boyfriend, on the other hand, has no problem drifting off into that good sleep. I decide to "take him out" as revenge.
   
4. If I don't go outside at least once a week, I think I will LITERALLY go crazy, not figuratively, I WILL START TALKING TO MYSELF MORE THAN I WOULD PRE BABY AND IN A WAY THAT MAKES PEOPLE UNCOMFORTABLE AND PRONE TO STRAPPING OTHERS ONTO BEDS.
5. I love being a mother already. The journey has just begun and I know that it is a thankless job and I know that it will make me cry on more than one occasion and I know that my life will not be mine anymore and I know that this will piss me off sometimes and I know

that i wouldn't have it any other way.

Drum roll please.......................................

Hello blogworld,

I'm officially home now with my beautiful baby boy Joseph Ajani *last name withheld for privacy lol* . He was born on October 3rd at 3:16 am--8 pounds 11.2 ounces and 19.5 inches. I would say it was a typical labor which means that in one word it would be described as OUCH! lol Unfortunately, I did have some physical complications as a result of pushing (separated a pelvic bone/cartilage area) and will be needing physical therapy for a few months to get back to walking like a normal human being-no worries I'm already recovering well :-) Anyway, I look forward to writing a new post about labor, delivery, and a new baby...but that will not be happening anytime soon I don't think lol

Anyway, thanks for all the well wishes and prayers! I will try my best to upload a pic of my gorgeous boy (it's true...he's amazingly beautiful...I guess I shouldn't have expected any less given the gene pool LOL)

love,
Anacaona

Edit: Obviously I added a pic lol.

I'm off to have a baby

send me your prayers, wish me luck, offer good vibes, whatever works lol

He's pushing too hard

my father...not my baby's father-he's doing very well and getting obviously nervous day by day lol-

but my biological father-the sperm donor who's never been a part of my life-is just so damn confusing. I mean it's hard for us to have phone conversations longer than 10 minutes, he's canceled plans on me more times than I care to remember, and he just really blows in the father category. I'm trying to understand in my head that he will probably be a solid acquaintance at best, but it's hard because I want him to be better than that. I want him to be more. Yet for my sanity I realize that I can't even pay too much attention to the whole thing.

Now the weird/uncomfortable/frustrating part is that he is trying so hard to connect me with his children. Like make us all a big, happy family-even sent me a letter saying as much (mind you-he sent me a letter from one borough of New York to the next, but hasn't even been able to make time or use the energy to physically see me-yeah that sh*t pisses me off). He gave my number to my younger "brothers and sisters" and gave me their number and he sent me some of their pics and a letter saying how he wants us to be close.

WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?

Now, i need, no scratch that, would like people to understand that this is not about my so called siblings. I don't have anything against them-they're all younger than me and I suppose one day it would be nice to talk to them and maybe be friends or something. But, right now, I'm trying to establish a relationship with a man who is my so-called father. I never called him and said I want to get to know your other children...I want to get to know YOU...eventually that will mean your children, but it doesn't mean NOW. He doesn't even live with them-what the fuck are we supposed to talk about? What it's like to not have him in our lives-he's been definitely more involved with them than me, but he's still missing from their lives right now, so I guess that could be a bonding option. Except that I don't want to bond over that.

Sometimes, it's so hard because he'll say something like, "Do you have your brother's number?" or "Has your sister called you?" and I want to yell at him, "Yes, all my brothers and sisters, who I grew up with have my number and call me, I call them, and we see each other, now who are you talking about?" And sometimes I think that's cold or selfish and other times I really don't care. If they call me, I definitely talk to them (it's only been once, but it was cute and awkward because the youngest called me, she's 10 or 11, i'm 23, it would have been weird no matter what lol), but I'm not making an effort and it's not personal. It's just not my life and not what i'm looking for right now.

Then to make the experience that much more frustrating is that the fact that he feels the need to give me advice-unsolicited and borderline useless-but it pisses me off nonetheless. For example, so people can see that I'm not crazy (or that I am whatever)-here's a sample, real convo we had recently:

Sperm Donor(SD): So, where's your boyfriend?
Me: He's not home right now.
SD: He's never home.
Me: He's home alot, but for some reason when you call, he isn't usually home.
SD: And you don't get mad or anything.
Me: No, what do I need to get mad about. I talk to him on the phone. He knows when I'm home and I know when he's coming home.
SD: That's good, I guess. Your mom was like that with me too. She never bothered me when I'd get home late. She would even ask me if I wanted something to eat or wanted her to turn on the shower.
Me: (Stifling the urge to tell him everything I know about that-how mom knew he was a cheating dog, how he was older than her and so she didn't really know how to approach him about his behavior, how she felt like she bent over backwards to gain his love which proved fruitless, how she believes he took advantage of her eagerness to please him-but I stifle it and say instead...) Yeah, I don't fight about things like that. If I didn't trust him I wouldn't be with him. I don't feel the need to spend time with someone I don't trust and also have to fit time into my life to argue with that person.
SD: That's good...but you gotta be smart too. Let him know that some things aren't acceptable and that he has to be a grown man-he's got a baby coming.

PAUSE

Now-I was able to wrap up the convo very quickly before I went through the phone and choked him, BUT

who the fuck gave him the indication that I wasn't smart enough to know when a man was pulling the wool over my eyes-who said that my boyfriend and I hadn't established what is and is not acceptable in our relationship-who said my boyfriend was not a grown man or that anyone else could insult him except for me...

See? why is this man worrying his little head over giving me unsolicited, irrelevant advice instead of worrying about what a bad father he's been and how he is scoring no points right now either? Or does he think that this is what a father should do? Because I guess the problem is that he's not my father and he isn't going to be. No matter how many times he leaves me a voicemail and says, "Hi __, this is F, your father" or writes a letter signed, F, your father-he is not my father and will not be my father. I guess the truth is that it is becoming more and more evident, that my FATHER, my DAD, with all his flaws and challenges, lives in Connecticut, is married to my mom, and is the father of the siblings that I grew up with. And I could post a long rambling post about his flaws too, but at the end of the day-I love him, he loves me, he sucks, and sometimes I'm a bitch-and I'm okay with that.

I am afraid of you

afraid of what i don't know
and what i might find out
afraid of continuing to tread lightly over questions of the past
afraid to go any deeper and learn the truth

i'm afraid to acknowledge the traces of an addicted past
your voice quite telling in the secrets it holds
the phrasings and questions of a person who's hustled for far too long
having hustled and been hustled, you're obviously a pro
afraid you're hustling me right now
hustling a connection
hustling caring
hustling love

afraid to look at you
and see me
afraid to look at you
and not see me
feel lost still with an unknown past
ancestors, heritage, stories, and anecdotes that explain a real part of me
currently on hiatus

i'm afraid of getting comfortable with a stranger
so inextricably a part of my life
afraid of the blood that runs through my veins
with it's love, hate, rage, and pain
afraid to discuss what's better left unsaid
addiction
abandonment
rehab
jail
sickness
death
of you, by you
of others close to you
What pain do you carry?
Do we have any common threads?
Can we see each other's scars?
Do we ever really want to?

i'm afraid of you
can't call it the unknown
because i have an idea
can't call it fear
as i push harder towards it
anxiety is not the word
doesn't fully explain

i'm afraid of you
and all that that may mean
i'm afraid of you
and what disappointment may come
i'm afraid of you
and finding your place in my puzzle
i'm afraid of you

the secret being...
i'm afraid i want to love you and be loved by you

So that's why I always get those looks...

You Are 24% Lady

You tend to make up your rules of etiquette, throwing all conventions aside. And while you try to be a lady (sometimes), your behavior is often quite shocking.

Are You A Lady?

I remember one of my younger sisters saying to me a few months ago, "That is not lady like, you don't act like a lady" (mind you, she's 18, what the hell does she know about...anything lol) and I said why not? She responds, "You curse too much, that's not lady like". What do I say? "Well, fuck that then, fuck being a lady, i'm a woman and I'm damn good at it".

But, alas, I see she's partially right-i'm only 24% lady. Feels mighty good to me though...

"You can't disappoint me because I don't love you"

Such a simple, direct pronouncement by one of the main characters in We Were the Mulvaneys (Joyce Carol Oates, 1996) and the character, Marianne, meant it with everything she had. There was no love lost, no hard feelings, nothing, just a matter of fact. So true that she didn't even say it to the other character, Marianne simply thought it to herself and externally laughed softly. When I read it, I thought it was perfect, another good line in a good book.

Unfortunately, I can say now from experience that it's not true. People that you don't love can disappoint you and I don't know that it will always hurt less than disappointment from someone you love. Perhaps there's more patience when someone you love does it, yes maybe the initial anger and sadness is stronger, but eventually you let it go because you love them. Not so much for someone you don't love. In my last post, I talked about trying to create a relationship with my real father (aka the sperm donor). I've promised myself that I wouldn't push too hard, I would let it ebb and flow any way it wants. So i've called a couple of times and he's called a couple of times. Not too shabby I'd say. Anyway, my birthday was this past Friday (yes I'm officially 23 and hotter than ever as one guy said to me today, "You are a beautiful pregnant woman, you sure are." I knew that already but random reassurance is nice sometimes lol)...ANYWAY, getting back to the point, my "F" called the Thursday before and said, "I know your birthday is tomorrow and I was thinking maybe we can get together on Sunday before I go to work". I was not expecting the call or the invitation, but I received both happily. We agreed to meet Sunday around 6 or 7 in Manhattan for dinner. He told me to call on Saturday to finalize plans, location, exact time, etc. So I did, got the voicemail left a message...and did it again around 4:30 or so today. And, well I got stood up--

And more than stood up, i got disappointed and I don't love him. I got disappointed and not in a way that happens when your friend cancels plans at the last minute, but disappointed in the way that happens when you tried to pretend that you didn't care about said 'date', yet went to do your eyebrows and got your hair done, and even put on a new outfit, why??? Because it did mean that much, because part of you was willing to take all anxiety and suck it up to face your 'maker' (not to be confused with your Maker-spiritual being who created you lol), because no matter what would have been said on that date, you wanted him to walk away thinking "she is amazing and I suck for having missed out on her life all these years". Because you can pretend that you don't care that he was around, but you did, even if it was just a little, because it left confusion in your heart and mind that you didn't even talk to anyone about for YEARS. Because you wonder...every so once in a while...what life would have been like with him-good, bad, ugly or indifferent.

In his defense, he finally called around 8pm, but I refused to answer the call and instead made plans with a friend (who also knew about the 'date') to go out for an appetizer and some ice cream. He rambled for a minute and a half and for those of you who have ever left and/or received a voicemail, a minute and a half is a loooong message. He explained that he worked later than usual, fell asleep, so on and so forth, apologized profusely and asked to reschedule with another day. It made me feel better to know that I hadn't been totally blown off, but at the same time I"m still disappointed. Part of me wants to call him and say, "You don't have many opportunities to screw up, you're 0 for 23 already", part of me wants to say, "Go to hell cuz I can't add emotional instability to my life, I'm fucking pregnant and imbalanced already!" and part of me wants to honestly say, "Dude, there may not be much you can do that will not disappoint me, so you might as well start now". There's truth in all of them and illogical thought processes too. I know that I will give him another chance, but I can't bring myself to call him, not tonight, maybe not tomorrow and if he asks if I was upset, I will say yes, because I'm not the lying or pretending type. But I will give him another chance and I'll know that it's possible that he will disappoint me...

and I don't even love him.

P.S. *shouts to UNO's and Cold Stone Creamery for eventually making it a good Sunday night for me :-)*

Being the oldest

is not easy at all.

I'm not going to pretend that i wasn't a parentified child in every sense of the word, from sharing in adult responsibilities to being a disciplinarian to being a mediator between my parents (which is quite dysfunctional-i think we could all agree). I think it happens when you're the oldest and your mother is only barely 16 years older than you. I used to joke around and say that my mom and I grew up together, but the sad part is that it's not really a joke, nor is it a lie. My mom and I grew up together, maybe in some ways, this was good. I learned to be quite independent, yet family oriented, a multi tasker, yet focused. And in some ways, it was bad, I was supposed to be a little girl, not a small adult and when it came time to go to college, the transition was harder because I thought i was doing something wrong, not because I would just miss my family like most people. I thought i was disappointing everyone, even when i knew they were proud, but who was going to make sure mom and dad's fights weren't too outrageous? Who was going to make sure my sisters weren't dating boys that were scuzz buckets? Were my brothers ever doing their hw or had the play station sucked their brains out? What if we couldn't pay the light...again? No meat, for a month? Would my sisters chip in for bills and groceries? Not what I wanted to think about starting my college freshmen year, yet I wouldn't change the experience if I could. It's me or at least it was.

For a few years now, I've slowly but surely broken out of that mold, slowly, but surely, given my family back to its rightful leaders (as flawed and as beautiful as they may be)-my parents. My mom even eventually told me that she didn't realize how much i did for my family and how much more she needed to do as a mother until i went to school and she realized that my siblings wanted to talk to me more than her. Mind you, my mother is a beautiful person, who i can honestly say was never part of my abusive past, actively at least. But she just has her flaws as we all do and so i appreciated this admission more than words could say. I think that conversation helped my transition along, though I realize today it's not quite over.

My younger sister (i have two after me and then two brothers-we are 22, 19, 18, 14, and 10)-so the 19 year old (who will be 20 in October) has decided to join the Navy. That's right, drop out of college where she was studying education and then biomolecular sciences, and then became undecided has signed up to be a 'sailor chick'. I could try to find the right terms, but it doesn't really matter in the context. She told me of this decision about two weeks ago and boy, did i blow my top for a million and one reasons. Funny enough, it was not long before i realized that out of everyone in my family, i was once again, angrier, more frustrated, and confused than anyone else. Everyone else had their concerns (or not), but no one seemed to be taking it as badly. And then my boyfriend, who alternates between being my wise, perfect other half to being someone i could potentially go to jail for killing (mildly kidding), simply said to me, "Maybe this is exactly what your sister needs, you don't know, you don't know everything, some people might think your life choices are stupid and you still make them".

And i lost all the air in my argument...just like that...gone. And funny enough, when she told me today that she had taken her physical already, I simply said, "Are you sure this is what you want to do?" and when she told me yes, I just supported her. I reiterated my concerns, but listened to her thoughts and let her know that I was proud of her and supported her. We'll see how this goes, but I'll just say that it's not just my sis who's growing up, I am too, and I feel better about it.