When I was growing up my two siblings and I would make it our mission to gift our mother something for Father's Day. All three of us have different fathers. My biological father was deceased. My sister's suppose father is now deceased and our younger brother's father is a deadbeat. My siblings and I never experienced love or the proper guidance that could have come from our Father figure. Our mother was always putting herself down talking about how nobody wants her because she's not any spring chicken. 

I never bought into my mama Debbie Downer talk because she actually loved for people to feel sorry for her. She like being a charity case. She enjoyed looking like a strong black woman raising her three kids alone. I knew that she enjoyed the perks of allowing her sister to claim all her kids for income tax too. I studied my mama and her I-could-do-all-bad-by-my-damn-self ways until I was 19 years old. I moved out at 19 after high-school and decided to never look back.

I experienced seeing my mother barely make ends meet. She always wanted one of our two uncles to watch us, so she could go out and work in the sugar cane fields to make a living. No matter how much she would slave in those sugarcane fields for the rich white folks, her demanding work load would still go unnoticed. Her muddy shoes, sun burnt skin, and muddy clothes were all a reminder of the struggle. She choose to raise us alone. To me she was beautiful, but had such a low self esteem. My siblings and I would damn near beg her to not go work in those blazing hot fields, but she so pressed behind being a single and independent mother that it drove her crazy. 

My siblings and I would have conversations amongst ourselves about why we didn't have a daddy. We would talk about how much life would be different and how we wouldn't have to go for some days and nights hungry. Maybe if we had a daddy we all wouldn't be sleeping all in the same room and even bed. If we had a daddy in our lives momma wouldn't have to slave in those sugar cane fields. Maybe if we had a daddy he would have taught us how to fish. Maybe our father would have loved our mother past her pain. 

But those were just what ifs and maybes. We live through Disney channel stars, re-runs of The Cobsy Show and their ideal families on the screen of the only TV in our house. We lived through some of our classmates that had come from a two-parent home. I made a vow to myself way back then to break the generational curse that was on my family. I did not want to ever raise a child that I brought into this world alone. I did not want for my upbringing to make me a bitter black woman. Not that my momma was bitter. My momma was just really close off from self-expression. No one really knew how she felt about raising all her three kids without a man.

Yesterday, was my very first time experiencing Father's Day with my own family. Seeing my husband smile, his father smile, and our son happy made me want to cry tears of joy. 

It was an experience that I once prayed for. To be able to have a Father's Day that had good vibes to go along with it. A meaningful Father's Day with my own family! A bright smile was on my face all day yesterday. I'm thankful to be in a much better place in my life. I'm thankful to be a mother and a wife. I'm thankful for God's favor in my life! I have came a long way from my past experiences. I am cherishing every moment of motherhood and seeing my husband be an amazing father.

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