After being held against my will for 4 months and carrying my abusers child, I suffered terrible ptsd. It was years before I knew what the problem was. By the time I found out I had abused my child, as projection of my own pain. She had suffered because I was emotionally unavailable for her. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve loved my daughter from the moment I found out I was pregnant. I love my daughter more than anything in this world, but none the less, life lead us down a road of unhappy spaces between parks and pictures.
She was shut out, and I’m seeing now how it’s effected her. My guilt is slowly subsiding as I’m healing, but I find myself crying for the mother I could have been, had things been different. I honestly, thought for a second, I could try again and do it right. But I still was not healed how I need to be, to be a mother again.
But I get a chance to get it right with my daughter. I get a chance to explain, heal, and prepare her for what life may have in store. I get all the hugs I want, instead of telling her to get off me when I was aggravated all the time. I get to have those conversations that matter, between a mother and daughter.
Looking at her today, a summer away from being 12; with her own life, friends, and gf I’m blown away at the young woman I am raising. I’m so fucking proud of her. Through all the darkness she has seen, she still smiles; just like me. I see her beautiful soul shine bright and laughter fills the room, and I know I’m doing something right. I’ve done something right. The love was there whether I felt it or not, she did. It shows in how she glows now.