Mother’s Love

Last year was life-changing for me. On one hand, my husband and I were blessed to celebrate our first anniversary as well as becoming first-time parents. On the other hand, I lost my mother. 

The relationship I had with my mother was…hard for most of my life. We lived on opposite sides of the country and I remember longing to be united as a family, Mom and Dad back together with all my siblings under a single roof. That’s what I was dreaming as child. 

It took me years to realize no such dream would ever come true. 

Conversations with Mom were short phone calls filled with big, bold promises. Promises of her flying out to visit us, promises of nice birthday gifts, promises of everything and anything I wanted to hear. Year after year, promise after promise. Promises that were nothing but hollow words. I just wanted her to follow through—I needed her to keep her word because that’s all I had from her.  

After graduating high school, I decided to go to college. Ironically, Mom worked at an HBCU and I figured it would be a fitting opportunity to delve into a new chapter of my life while redefining our relationship. I mean, I wasn’t that vulnerable child anymore, holding on to her every word. I was stronger and my skin had grown thicker—hell, I would have a say in how she treated me! 

Instead of staying in the dorms, I lived in her house. Huh! I’m sure you figured that that was a bad fucking idea. We fought constantly about little shit that didn’t matter and, eventually, things boiled so hot, we ended up in a physical fight. That fight will forever be one of my biggest and most embarrassing regrets. The whole situation was so depressing, I knew I had to make a change. 

I left her and the HBCU and moved back home, leaving our relationship a rocky impasse for close to another decade.   

I never hated Mom. I loved her very much, which is why I was so damn angry with her all the time. The way she treated and talked to me was not an accurate reflection of how you treat or talk to someone you love. So…I believed she didn’t love me. The pain in my heart thrived because she was the opposite of the person I wanted her to be. And it hurt so damn bad ‘cause I was convinced she intentionally opposed me. 

 All that pain made it difficult for me to believe things could ever change between us. Still, I should have fought harder for hope. 

In 2022, I got pregnant. I always believed my first baby would be a boy, but pfft! I should have known better. When I found out I was having a girl, I devolved into a vulnerable child again. I was terrified that the cold, hard “love” I received from my mother was genes-deep, that I didn’t even have it in me to love my baby girl the way I longed to be loved by my mother. I was terrified that a healthy relationship with my daughter was impossible because I never experienced one with my own mother.

I prayed and reached out to my ancestors and guardian spirits for guidance. I was directed inward, to forgive myself and forgive my mother. To give myself the love I desired and to give Mom that same love. 

I needed to mend my relationship with her so that I could start on a clean slate with my baby girl. 

 When I reached out to Mom and shared this with her, she was elated to be G-Ma and, to my surprise, agreed with me about fixing our relationship. She apologized for the negative course of our relationship and explained that she didn’t want to fight anymore. She just wanted us to be able to depend on her as Mom and G-Ma. 

Sure, I couldn’t completely forgive her overnight for decades of pain, but finally I was able to envision a bright future for our relationship.

Over the next year, we confided in each other more than we ever had with long phone calls and video chats that replaced our usual texting communication (she was too sick to visit and I didn’t want to travel with the baby). I knew in my heart that she was genuinely trying to be better for us. It was the best our relationship had ever been. 

Unfortunately, we didn’t get to explore our relationship any further because she passed away at the end of the summer. I was heartbroken, I felt cheated because we were finally healing together. 

I love my mother and I miss her. But I’m damn proud we were able to redefine our relationship before she crossed over. And even though our love was complex, I have more confidence in building a positive love and healthy relationship with my own daughter.