A Conversation With My Mother


Yesterday afternoon, I was talking with my mom as I was rustling up some lunch for the little one and the subject of adoption came up. Go figure.

At any rate, I made the comment, “You know, Mom, there are many other women out there who become mothers when they are 19-years old and go on to be exceptional parents. I mean, you were 19 Chris was born.”

She interrupted me, saying, “Yes, but I was married.”

What I wanted to say to her was this, “And that worked out so well, didn’t it? Yeah, you were married, married to a man who date raped you. Yeah, you were married alright. Married to a man who started giving pornography to his boys when their were still in grade school. Yeah, you were married alright. Married to a man who cared so little for your emotional and physical health that he got you pregnant 12 times in 15 1/2 years.  Yeah, you were married alright. Married to a CHILD MOLESTER who went to prison for molesting his SIX daughters AFTER YOU STAYED MARRIED TO HIM FOR 23 YEARS! Yeah, you were married alright, married to man who beat his children with a belt, his fists, or a coat hanger – whichever happened to be handy. And somehow that badge of “MARRIED” was better than me being single mother? Somehow that made you a “better” mother than me at 19 years?????? REALLY??????? At least I had the common sense to get the hell outta Dodge and NOT marry the man who got me pregnant.”

But I didn’t say that.

This is what I did instead. I carefully shut the refrigerator door, took a deep breath and said, “It’s not like that marriage was sunshine and roses, was it? For all intents and purposes, you were a single mother in that relationship, Mom. But that’s not my point – my point is you had a baby at 19, just like me, and you were a good mother.”

“But I was married” was her response.

I quickly changed the subject and we talked about a book I have been reading instead.  Most books are a safe conversation. We can talk about books without getting into an argument.

Adoption…not so much on some days.

 

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