To the mom who hurt me more times than I can count. The mom who left me bruises I had to try and cover up. To the mom who abandoned me time after time. I’m here to tell you.
I forgive you.
To the mom who always left me to take care of my two younger siblings. To cook, to clean, get them ready for school, and help with homework.
Who also left me to take care of your mom, my 82 year old grandma. Whose diaper I changed and body I fed through a feeding tube, because five strokes left her disabled from head to toe.
I was only 14 years old. I was just a child myself, who was taken out of school and had to grow up faster than most. Your boyfriend at the time was more important than your kids. It was a lot to take in and deal with, but I forgive you.
Abuelita passed away. We lost our apartment. We had no money. We stayed with friends after friends to finally your boyfriends. Where one day you allowed him to throw me to the floor and put his hands on me.
He eventually kicked us out. We had no where to go. So then the journey into the unknown happened. You dragged my siblings and I around for a year and a half with no school or a place to call our own. We constantly slept in strangers houses or in our van bouncing around from Wisconsin to Florida to Pennsylvania to New York and then back to Wisconsin. Even family tried to help, but you wouldn’t accept it. It was all about you and what you wanted. Sadly, your kids were only a pawn in whatever card you played, but again, don’t worry.
I forgive you.
Fast forward x32. I’m five months pregnant! You’re a grandma! I know you heard the news, because you showed up unexpected. Yet your intentions on showing face was unclear. Not once did you ask how the baby or I was doing. Instead, you talked me down and tried to tell my fiancé that I’m delusional and a fraud. It was mind baffling and embarrassing.
Yet, I forgive you.
Hey mom, I got married! I’m now a mom of two! Your first grandchildren! They’re beautiful! Who knows if you’ll ever get to meet them. You’ve already missed out on so much! Did you know it’s actually been 13 years? Do I even call you mom? At this point I don’t know anything about you anymore. You’re practically a stranger. It’s heart breaking.
I know I will never get answers. For years I constantly asked myself, “why?” or “how can someone who calls themselves “mom” do such things. Don’t you love me?” I’ll never know. Maybe you went through a life of postpartum and the world was heavy on your shoulders. Maybe there was more to you and dad, a drug addict back then, that you just couldn’t take it anymore. So I became your punching bag.
I’ll never know where it all went wrong. As I look back at baby photos there seems to be this…love. I don’t know, but one thing I know is that five months ago, I was at my darkest moment within postpartum and I battled the fear of becoming You. There was an anger I felt that wanted to unleash. I had to continuously fight this mirror that kept reflecting YOU. It was a long and exhausting battle. I almost gave up. I almost let the darkness swallow me whole, but I didn’t. I couldn’t. It wasn’t my time.
So I sit here today writing this letter to you. That if there is anything that I could actually thank you for, it’s showing me what a mother SHOULD truly be. The mother my girls NEED me to be. The mother you WEREN’T to me. I’ve seen all the don’ts. I’ve seen all the failures and even though at times I may fail with my own. I know that I’ll be okay, because I remember, I’m not you. I am not my mother and because I now know who I finally am as Mom. I know I’ll do better.
So if you ever happen to read this.
Just know.
I forgive you.
Blissful Burgos 