Married Life, Motherhood, Parenthood

Peace of Mind~

I stopped fighting myself recently. I thought I’d missed out on something. Some party or concert I was trying to get to that motherhood was pulling me from.

I used to go out alot. So many excursions became a normalcy. There was no reason for me to mourn the lost of the single life, I technically haven’t been single in over 7 years.

I thought I was having a mid life crisis after having the baby. Welcome to Postpartum
Depression with a side of Post Traumatic Slave Syndrome with a garnish of Persistent Depression Disorder. My husband said he never met someone who constantly said “I need to find myself.” until he met me. He still doesn’t completely understand what I mean by that. I used to write so much poetry that I’d perform it all over NYC. In those poems were writings of being lost. Constantly, I would write about being lost. Lost in love, lost in life, lost in a mixed up bag of bullshit. When you write a particular fate into your existence, you can easily become that. I skimmed through my older writings to find something that explained me to a tee. It read “I came with a brokenness that I had been working on mending throughout my entire life. I had moments where I was healed and then other moments were the wound would be reopened to be bruised & hurt all over again. “Who were we to ourselves first?” was a question that I forgot to ask myself but it would eventually find its way back to me soon.”

So here I am again. Asking myself if I did everything I could do to be a good role model to the children. Wondering, am I enough for my husband? I have been neglecting myself the entire time just by pondering about the well being of others. It seems simple to comprehend as I write it but it’s not as simple as it seems.

The new normalcy of my country is an extremely triggering one as a Black Female. In my shoes in 2017, I saw manhood come crumbling down. It’s no longer just about wondering if my husband will make it back home to me everyday. It becomes about teaching my little man child the importance of survival, respect & boundaries. I watched women reclaim their time as men became rapists AND victims. I had to explain to my teenager why it was imperative that she comprehend how her body can be perceived to older men while still teaching her to live free. I had to watch large sums of people fake being shocked about sexual harassment in the world when many of them condoned it or just turned an eye from what they encountered. As if it wasn’t blatantly there. Quietly escaping each thought of being misled, I held my son & vowed to teach him better. I stare at my husband sometimes & wonder how he loves me so much. My pent up frustration leads to less affection for him but he loves me none the less. Where I won’t kiss him, I’ll replace it with a meal. Where I won’t touch him, I’ll replace it with a smile. When I won’t speak to him, I’ll replace it with my ears to hear his woes instead. I push past my shortcomings for him. He is the guiding force that helps me create amazing children. We do it together. Yet I know I stumble over my pain on the way. And my knees have scars that have healed yet left horrible marks that cut deep within my soul. So I get lost.

Lost in those emotions & unanswered past notions is where my soul roams. It hurts alot to be that Black. Unapologetically. My skin may not be of the darkest hue but my lips, nose and eyes can get no bigger. My features say more & it’s like my ancestors are screaming at me to do better this time because I sometimes don’t hear their whispers. So I look to my babies & then back at myself & I say… “Jwa. Be You. Unapologetically You. And the children will be their best selves because of it.”

I dedicate this writing to my friend, Jennifer Lawrence-Love, Erica Garner and the 12 people who lost their lives plus the 4 in critical condition from the Bronx fire on Dec 29. This last week of fatalities & mistakes has been an eye opener into not allowing stress to run my world. When you allow your fears to take a front seat in your life, it tends to kill u slowly from the inside. A Jay Z quote resonates for me going forth into the life I have left and that’s “I Will Not Lose!”

Who you gonna be today?

Married Life, Motherhood, Parenthood


Sometimes I look at old pictures of myself & I get a little sad. Thinking about the freedom or smooth skin I took for granted at times. Replaced with this new body with fat in different places & brand new stretch marks that appear as though aliens landed on me while my baby was incubated inside. Mother’s Day was last weekend and I’ve chosen to learn how to disappear for next year. My plan was to leave all weekend and never give myself a chance to be disappointed. I have a 5 month old baby boy that is exclusively breastfed so that option became null and void quicker than I cared for. Even with my backups of frozen milk, I felt an uneasiness about using my last 3 bags for needed time spent alone. I haven’t had a moment to just be free with my thoughts in months. Each day begins with how & what to do to create the best possible living scenario for my husband & children on every aspect. I hate that my mind won’t ease up. I hate that I feel overwhelmed with ideals of pleasing others at all times. It begins to feel self depreciating.

You don’t get to choose your family. The best thing that you can do to be happy in the life you’ve been given is to raise your kids right. Problem is, you don’t get to choose your kids either. In some supernatural, spiritual realm, I do believe that we have chosen each path & life lived. Regardless of whether I feel I had a choice in the souls surrounding me, it’s clear that they would have been put there either way for a larger meaning.

I got two spiritual readings including a Reiki session while pregnant with Baby Light. All signs proved him to have chosen me & vice versa. It was said that he & I had been together in past lives. We had chosen each other again for this one.

I got alot of Mother’s Day texts from friends & family this year. Many people were congratulating me on Baby Light. I reminded anyone who suggested this was my first Mother’s Day that it technically was my 2nd considering I have been caring for my 15 yr old stepchild for 2 years now. My husband refers to Mother’s Day as a Hallmark holiday. My stepchild has trauma caused from the biological mother.

Every year thus far, Mother’s Day has been terrible. I’m not a huge person on gifts & such. I just like the idea of acknowledgement on a job well done. I could tell weeks in advance I was going to be disappointed so I planned on leaving the house alone. Since that didn’t happen, the day began with it’s normal disappointments. I awoke to a text message from the child asking for something (I didn’t want to be asked for anything). The text message inevitably got to saying Happy Mother’s Day but was watered down by the consistent need for something. My husband awoke and watched Netflix for an hour and a half while I breastfed the baby & tried to lure the little one back to sleep. The hubby never said Happy Mother’s Day. Instead, he asked “What do you want?” I replied “To just leave.” Finally I got the baby to sleep & tried to leave for the shower I rarely get to take.

Twenty mins later amidst a screaming baby, I had Baby Light back in my arms wishing I had put on deodorant before grabbing him. My husband looked at me with his concerned eyes. No comprehension of what was wrong. I planned on just running away possibly coming back in 12 hours, turning off my phone to escape everything. Not enough frozen milk for that plan to work though.

I just never knew. Everyone tells you how difficult your children can be but stepchildren… Stepchildren come with a different type of story. You get this person who you vow to take care of because they belong to your spouse but they come with their own baggage. They come with their own problems. They have their own growing pains that they’ve partly created & partly been inherited. What do you do when everything you’ve done to help them gets looked upon as failure or just isn’t acknowledged? What do you do when there are no longer any words of “thank you” or “hello”?

I stayed home for Mother’s Day & endured another day that didn’t look any different than the disappointment I face in my home everyday. And that’s the thing with mothers, there’s no break. Even in the midst of a breakdown, it’s seen as a failing moment. I told myself that I’d just keep pushing forward anyway. I never know what to expect from my children. I can only hope that one day it’ll all make sense & my work wasn’t in vain. I have my own soul searching to do through my parents’ journey. Putting myself in the shoes of the child, I comprehend the effects that those two people have on me. No stepparent can ever compare to the type of love & pain a child endures from their parents in my point of view. It’s deep seeded issues & unconditional love flow through like lava. No matter how much one may try to write off the psychological, emotional, physical & mental effects that are inherited from parents, it’ll keep coming up until it’s addressed & understood. As much as I comprehend this, it doesn’t make a difference in my household if my husband & stepchild don’t. It becomes a continuing cycle of the same song. “All around the world, the same song.” – Digital Underground. I sing songs to myself to find an easier coping method.

“Sometimes, wish I knew life with no pain, yeah
Wish I held the keys to this game
Sometimes, I pretend cuz I’m afraid to be, afriad to be” – Bilal

Who u gonna be today?

Married Life, Motherhood, Parenthood

Torrential Downpours…

The day that I found out I was pregnant was April Fool’s day. I kinda wasn’t interested in finding out for awhile because although we were trying to conceive, we were so broke that I often couldn’t comprehend why I even was bothering. We’d gotten married a year before & married life didn’t look “shit!” like I thought it would. Let’s sum up what happened within two months of being married so you feel my pain.

Five days before my wedding I was terminated from my (somewhat) comfy job as a restaurant manager where I’d been for 6 yrs. They let me go a day after my work anniversary. In between tears to my now ex bosses, I asked if I would still be receiving my vacation pay considering I actually made it to my anniversary. They gave it to me although I knew I had earned it regardless. (Although they later on tried to take it back!) My wedding was supposed to be this amazing event that I created without a wedding planner or caterer. It was a 4/20 Hip Hop Wedding. Since it was during cherry blossom season I decided I wanted to get married underneath the Cherry Blossom Trees in Eastside Park ( the park I grew up in as a child). Plus it had been a childhood dream of mine to be married there. The only way I believed it wouldn’t happen was if there was a torrential downpour. The night before the wedding forecasts showed there would be a torrential downpour 😳😳😳……………………… So as I prepared to go to my reception venue to have the wedding there (as a backup plan), I arrived that morning to a flooded building! I don’t even want to discuss how when I went the day before to set up, there were 2 parties going on (one had a blowup jungle gym) along with a woodshop class happening in my area! My venue promised me I’d have it a day earlier to setup. The woodshop class happened throughout my wedding by the way! We set up while being soaked and many of the guests never arrived. Anywho that story is for another day. After the wedding ( because I never hired a caterer or a planner) we had to break the entire venue all the way back down and return products and such everywhere. We had almost 200 people attend. We weren’t done until 5am returning everything. The next day we were supposed to fly out to Vegas for our honeymoon. We missed our flight which happened to be the last flight of the night ( causing a $250 fee to change flights). I cried myself to sleep that night. We flew out the next morning and had an amazing 3 wk stay in an awesome town with awesome people! But what was going to happen when I came back home? My mind wouldn’t let me commit to just having a good time. I needed to file for unemployment with a 3 hour time difference & try to figure my way out of a jam I felt like I created. Thank God for husbands & particularly mine. He kept me calm throughout the entire experience & made me remember why I loved him each step of the way.
When we got back home we had 3 wks to move out of our apartment. We lived there for 3 years & planned on moving into my mother’s house so we could inevitably take it over once she retired in a year. We also wanted to have a bigger space for my husband’s daughter Robyn. Initially I never wanted to do so much all at once. Moving 3 wks after a honeymoon sounded insane but considering I had no job & my lease was up I had all the time in the world to get this done. We ended up moving out with no one to help us move a single piece of furniture. A one day job took us three and it rained on our heads the entire time. After we moved into our new home (my home from my teenage years) my stepdaughter graduated from 8th grade three weeks later & basically never returned to her mother’s home. I officially became a stepmother. And there you have the two months that came in the case of a torrential downpour.

I’d lived my life so care free most of the time. I never had to be too concerned with anyone other than my happiness. I’ve always been able to fumble backwards into the sheer terror of being an actual adult. It’s like once you have children you don’t get that luxury anymore. It doesn’t matter what age they come to you as. Your responsibility becomes all about them & less about you.

The first month of highschool was tough for Robyn & a huge adjustment for me. In the first week Robyn decided to tell us that they wanted their major changed from medical arts to graphic arts. The challenges of all the newness going on for me, this child & my husband was beyond overbearing. Not to mention we lived with my mother only a doorstep away. Was this the life I signed up for? Was this how it was going to be for me now? I had a 13 yr old child going on 14 who at times seemed like they were going on 10! How could I raise someone else’s child? I barely could comprehend myself.

I stopped taking my birth control a month before my wedding. It wasn’t on purpose though. Somehow I changed my insurance coverage to a plan that made my pills cost $427 for a pack of 3. I damned near almost shit my pants at the price and began crying. This was 3 months before my wedding. I couldn’t even begin to fathom where the money would come from to pay it. So I stopped taking my pills. Once we got a child in the house I had to question if I wanted another. As pleasant as my stepchild was, this was no walk in the park. Life became cleaning up after a child that was larger than me! It meant extra dishes. Never having a meal that completely belonged to myself. Opening a box of cereal to see a quarter bowl of wackness. Drips of milk left in cartons for my despair. One egg left in a carton for my breakfast. Filthy rooms that reeked of a new smelling sweat. Extra laundry. Sharing all my toiletries including my shaving supplies, my hair supplies, my special soap I bought at that festival that I wanted to use for a special occasion!! Did I want to share my life this way!?!?!? I’d like to say Hell to the MFn NO!!! You take everything about a partner when you marry them though. But could I deny my husband what we both agreed upon wanting?? Another child to start from scratch with. I couldn’t choose the sex of the child??? Hmmmmm. After much hesitation I decided that if I were going to have a child that I needed to start working on it no matter the consequences. No matter the financial struggles, no matter the costs! I wasn’t getting any younger. That was November of 2015 by March I was pregnant. In the words of the Wu-Tang Clan, “Life as a shorty shouldn’t be so rough.” I had 9 months to figure out what I would do to support this seed I was growing. I needed to figure out how to survive.

April Fool’s bitch! U pregnant today! This was the first April Fool’s day I stayed offline. No need in tricking people into me being pregnant when I really was. The entire time since we’d gotten married people began keeping tabs on my vagina & it’s occupancy specifically in my uterus. I wasn’t here for it in 2016. I was about go “Ghost” on social media because this was about to be the adjustment of a lifetime! And this baby growing in my belly had better been a boy because I definitely didn’t need an extra period in the house!😳😳 I began drinking a ton of akaline water & praying for a boy! A year later I’m sitting here trying to adjust to this little person that’s completely attached to me. As much as I’d like a break, I’m still memorized by this little creation. I guess torrential downpours can be something that pushes you into a new state of Light per se. And this year April Fool’s day is still null and void because I’m still trying to catch my breath.

Who you gonna be today?

Married Life, Motherhood, Parenthood

Ya Best Protect Ya Breast!!!

Protect ya breast

I love The Wu-Tang Clan & any quality material from my Hip Hop culture that’ll help me explain everyday life to my kids. That’s right! Kids! (Do yourself a favor & listen to A Tribe Called Quest’s song Kids… You’ll thank me later.) I currently have two children that are at two COMPLETELY different stages in life. I have a 15 yr old stepdaughter and of course my 8 wk old son. At first when I began showing that I was pregnant, people used to be so happy for me & tell me how I had a built in babysitter. That shit is so damn far from the truth at this particular point in my life that I’d like to just jump out a window for every time I heard someone say it to me last year. Ohhhhhhhh my young, intuitive, growing into a young adult, who hasn’t even fully developed their frontal lobe, yet swears they can comprehend their life so well, as to explain it to me to make me think I know nothing, child! Yup. Hmmm mmm. Throughout my posts I will refer to Robyn as… a plural, using they & their instead of her or she out of respect for their identity. My teenager identifies as a Genderless Pansexual. 😳 We’ll discuss that further on a later date. Initially when Robyn told me that they didn’t want to identify as a she or even a he yet would rather the plural use of they, I almost lost my damned mind! I’m a writer for crying out loud! It’s one thing to comprehend a person as a gender but when they choose neither yet want both!πŸ˜’ NO!!!! U have to choose one. Right? Right? RIGHT!!!??? Welp. My comprehension of it all is that we have moved into a hypersensitive time where having a backbone isn’t completely necessary. I know I sound old saying this but gone are the days where u could curse someone out about anything without it turning into a “triggered” situation. Sending a person off the deep end has become easier with social media. You can hide behind the worldwide web while you troll people to death, LITERALLY! So I guess with that type of power, our kids “would” become hypersensitive. Walking around with mounds of anxiety, insecurities & medications. It’s the new world order. I’ve consistently tried to explain to my teenager that the reason most kids are stupid is because their parents are stupid. Broken people raise broken people. It becomes a vicious cycle of pain that can be quite difficult to move away from. You can almost say that the pain is somewhat inherited down to the next generation. It kind of looks like what the effects of slavery are to my people of color in America & the islands. Perseverance is key though. There can be alot of that if you’re strong minded.

But back to the subject at hand. It’s 8:50am on a Saturday morning & I haven’t slept all night. My baby boy took some shut eye while I made myself believe that my stories (these blogs) were worth sharing with the world. Robyn has woken him up with her clatter of movement while the chores are done. I’ve reverted back to the bedroom with a wide eyed baby. He lays latched to breast as I type away hoping he’ll eventually break free. And when that happens… My nipples… My nipples will get to belong to me again for anywhere between 10 mins to 3 hours. I wanna cry!!!! I just keep singing “You best protect ya breast!” in my best Raekwon the Chef voice. My body just isn’t mine anymore. Breastfeeding is a completely undervalued art that no one can understand until they go through it. This child is literally ripping the moisture from my soul!!!! He legitimately leaves my lips so chapped that they sometimes bleed. I’m so tired that the last thing I’m thinking about is putting on any form of chapstick because it may break out his sensitive baby skin if I kiss him. So I just use his diaper ointment as lip balm. Luckily the hippie in me tends to buy alot of organic products so his ointment is completely edible. It’s made with nothing but different oils. It’s called “Nature’s Baby Organics” made by a concerned mother about having pure, natural things for her baby. But no amount of oil is going to bring back the sanity that’s being sucked out of me with each feeding. No one mentions how your body turns into your baby’s milk computer. He cries & my nipples immediately hurt like hell! I feed & my uterus starts to contract like ouch! Too many times I’m left holding my head just to pull my hand away and see flakes of dryness fall from my forehead! I scratch my head to dandruff galore! He’s sucking the life OUT of me. Yet I guess if it’s that platinum elixir that’s going to make sure he doesn’t get sick & give him all the antibodies he needs to get through the winter and the world, it’s worth it. I’d just like to sleep, just once! It doesn’t even have to be alot. I’ll take 5 hours!!! Oh my God! 5 hours would be like eating steak & lobster with a big bottle of champagne to me right now! Ohhhhhhhh how I miss the champagne. It’s like I gave up my right to drink. I’m not even a drinker like that but a glass of wine every now and then would be nice but NO! I’m definitely in a different type of life sentence. It’s literally a “giving life” sentence. I don’t think it’s ever going to end. I don’t even know if I truly want it to end. There’s something rewarding in feeling needed. It leaves you with a sense of accomplishment even in moments of complete failure. I’m still able to look at the sun & appreciate it’s brightness. Still look at the rain & be grateful for the water. Still look at the snow & be grateful for an opportunity to escape outside to shovel (it’s a great past time for me. Just some headphones & a shovel. Shhhh don’t tell anyone thoughπŸ˜‰). I’ve constantly tried to escape my circumstances with this mom/wife business. Loathing the moments where someone was calling my name! STOP calling my name. But don’t stop needing me.

Who you gonna be today?