I have two mothers let me explain. One mother is the woman who loves me. She talks to me about motherhood and listens to my fears and complaints. She has loved me unconditionally. She is the woman who gave My daughter her middle name. Not because I wanted that to be her middle name, but because in some ways I felt that my mother deserved the honor;. She is the mother that gave me 2,000 dollars when depression sent me uninsured into the hospital. That is the mother I received when I married my husband.

Then there is the mother who gave birth to me. She is the one I have very little contact with only through an occasional email. She is the one that didn’t protect me. The one who denies that man she believes is a saint raped my innocence to fulfill his own desires. She is the one that doesn’t know I have a daughter because it will be a cold day in hell before I will let him rape my Little Girl’s innocence and this woman would probably stand by an allow him.

I think that there is a subconscious part of abused children that want to adopt themselves out. I have been doing it my whole life. Anyone that would show me any true love I would try and become their child. Now I might not try to move in with them, but I would definitely try over and over again to receive that love they gave. I once convinced a couple people that my preacher was my brother. Ha.

In some ways I think I no longer am doing that because I have successfully adopted myself to my husband’s family. I have a dad now who would kill the man that produced me if he ever tried to hurt me and a mother who will give me all the love in the world. I have aunts and uncles who give me advice, hugs and kisses. I have grandparents who would be deeply hurt if I ever left their life.. I have been so successful with this adoption, that I don’t even miss my biological family. Maybe I am in denial but I don’t.

My daughter has two grandmothers. One is my husband’s mother and his stepmother. They are both loving people. In some ways I hope this keeps her from noticing or missing my mother; thus furthering her protection.

Maybe this blog isn’t so much about my struggle to bond with my child as much as it is about trying to be the mother I never had growing up. Because I absolutely refuse to allow my daughter to live such a life.