Hurt People, Hurt People

My grandma popped my baby. That’s it, that’s the story.

My grandmother popped my baby & I LOST! MY! SHIT! I couldn’t see past my triggers and I lost it! The helpless and scared kid in me jumped out and was front and center to defend my child; cause if I say “don’t hit my baby” that’s what I mean.

Here’s the thing though- while asserting boundaries and breaking curses you have to be considerate. Insane concept right? I have to be considerate of people who want to, or could potentially, harm my baby? You must be crazy! Except, it’s not that crazy of a concept. I have to remind myself that while this is the right journey for us, it is also a very new one.

My grandma popped my baby and I LOST! MY! SHIT!

I still can’t believe it almost a month later. I blacked out on my grandma over my child! (Sidenote: I’ll do it again, to anybody, bout my baby’s boundaries and body!) After the fact, I cried. I cried so hard 1: because “WTF I just spazzed on my grandma???” 2: because I was triggered and seeing red and 3: because “GOT DAMMIT how hard is it to not hit a baby?! MY baby at that??” I felt bad but I had to prove to my daughter that I will ALWAYS go up for her and that nobody and no thing can shake that or change that… right?

In defending my baby, my actions, and my inner child I made my grandmother cry; and that’s not a soft lady, ok! I was hurting so I reverted back to the very behaviors I’ve been trying to run from and unlearn- yelling, cussing, crying to guilt trip. How can I model “connection before correction” if my go-to in adult interactions is flying off the handle? I cried and realized I had the tools to make this right. If I want to stick to this positive discipline thing I can’t just reserve the tools for children- my child. So, I cried until I fell asleep and I woke up ready to apologize. I’m not used to apologizing, or apologies, after a lash out. I have something to prove, though. So I apologized. I did exactly what I would do to Bean, to my grandma; eye contact, nervous laughter (cause that’s my thing), and I apologized. I can’t break curses and shake up the violent lineage without offering grace to everyone around me and starting at the top of the line. So I apologized. I gave my grandma a hug and bellowed the biggest, most sincere “sorry” I had and I made sure my child saw it; because hurt people, hurt people but healed people heal nations.

I‘m trying to heal nations and generations. I’ve got a lot of work to do but it starts at home. Literally. This is your reminder that it’s never too late to start healing; you just have to be consistent. If you’re ready to make a shift in the atmosphere (Gospel geeks, where u at?), join me in my upcoming 6 week “Wash, Rinse, Repeat” Positive Discipline course. Sign up below for more information!

If Yo Girl Only Knew

I wish I knew that:

1: Every day will not be sunshine & rainbows. In fact, you might outright hate motherhood and that’s okay!

2: There is no smooth transition from woman to mom. And it sucks.

3: Self-care is no longer easy.

4: This is your journey and yours alone. YOU are the mother.

5: Spending time with JUST your baby is important. Seriously.

6: You are not bitter for being heartbroken, disappointed, or saddened by the way your child’s father treated you. You have every right to feel those feelings.

I wish I knew that. I’ve been sitting on this post for months. I like reminding myself of what was and what could’ve been. I keep having to remind myself of what was and what could be.

I coulda been a hairstylist, working all kinda hours in all kinda places, for whatever price I deemed reasonable. I can still be one. I coulda been a bottle girl, in college classes, all in the clubs having fun. I can still have fun and go to college. I coulda been an influencer- a “IG baddie”- linking up with anybody my daddy (& beauty!) could’ve connected me; taking trips, doing whatever I wanted. I can still leverage my beauty and my connections and “get to a bag” through Instagram. I just gotta do it with a baby on my hip.

I’ve been mourning “me” so much this past year but how dare I? Seriously. How dare I miss the young carefree girl who was just waking up and going? Why would I wanna be her ever again? (Hint: ’cause that carefree sh!t is FUN!!) I’ve really had to sit and grapple with the fact that I’m never going to be the me that I thought I was, and was going to be. That that’s okay and that this new me is someone I can love AND like, too. I wish somebody would’ve gave it to me straight- “you’re growing your own new life, too, not just that baby’s. Your birth is not just your baby’s; it’s yours too.” I don’t even know if I would’ve listened, but it would’ve been something nice to remember hearing. Your birth is not just your baby’s; it’s yours too. When you birth that baby, you’re birthing a new you. A you you may not like at first. A you you have to relearn and rediscover; somebody who might not like what you used to like and might like what you used to hate. You’re birthing and creating a new you. Own that shit! Walk in it. Dig your heels into this upgraded version of you and embrace her. Find what she likes and fall in love with yourself again. Own! That! Shit!

Hide Me Mommy

Warning: this will be kind of long. I’m not apologizing.

It is 5 am, I’ve had no sleep, and I’ve decided that sharing Bean with the public IS actually anxiety inducing and not something I’m 100% comfortable with. If you’re reading this and wondering if that means you need permission to share her going forward, yes. Yes you do; whether it be from me or her in the future.

I battled with myself and the idea of sharing her my entire pregnancy. How can I teach her consent while sharing nearly every part of her life with strangers? My mind took me in circles and constant loops until finally we settled into the idea that “we” would not share her whole name or her entire birth details, her whole face, or her arrival into this world until it had been a couple days. I was okay with that and everybody else was, too. And then… I was no longer okay with that and it was time to either A: tell people what the new rules were or B: suck it up & power through-because I had a vision in mind. I went with B. I sucked it up and powered through unprovoked online harassment and hacked zoom calls; because I had a vision. I thought my story was bigger than that and that’s not where it was to end, so I kept on.

I swallowed the anxiety that came with her grandmas having Facebook albums dedicated to her and aunties posting her every time they got a new picture of her. I let it be okay- so much so that I even started a blog where SHE was the main focus. I let it be okay! And it was, it really really was… until it wasn’t. I argued with myself and I watched for the way my baby acted around cameras and she seemed ok with them? She started to notice herself in a selfie and SMILE!! She was alright with being on the camera! I was alright too, I thought. I kept doing the mom blogger thing and I was doing it WELL and it was all good; until I realized I was sharing the same pictures everywhere and to everyone. There were no “exclusive” photos to her dad or grandparents or aunts and uncles, no difference between Instagram & Twitter & Facebook. That seemed like a solid plan in my head. How could she be embarrassed or humiliated if only the same pictures are showing across the board? Then I was reminded how evil people on Twitter, especially, are when a “rapper” compared a young black girl to a corpse. I was gutted and triggered; sent back to that time that random white man clowned me, playing a baby shower game, and said something alluding to me eating shit. I was playing a traditional baby shower game. That was enough though; enough for me to stop and rethink everything. How could I put my daughter in harm’s way like that? How could I give someone the opportunity to EVER “drag” her like that? I can’t… so, I didn’t.

I got real cautious about what I posted and said to people. I combed my socials to make sure my baby was “cute”- as if that other child wasn’t. As if “cute” stopped wretched people from being wretched. I started seeing posts about “privacy before consent” and “ask your friends before you post their baby”; things that validated my feelings. Then I wondered if it was divine timing or me just seeing what I wanted to see, what I needed to see, to validate me. Was I really becoming a private person or was I letting social media and strangers get to me? Am I really protecting her or am I projecting onto her? Surely she won’t turn 18, or 10 or 11, and suddenly become embarrassed by all the cute moments I’ve shared of her. Surely her first successful sign language session won’t be a source of embarrassment and anxiety… But what if it is? How will I rectify that and give myself the grace necessary to go forth and heal her?! I’m struggling with all the “what ifs” and since she and I come first, I’m making an executive decision to “hide her from the world”. To wipe her digital footprint clean from here on out. Here’s to giving me peace of mind and her, some privacy and protection. The world is scary enough as is, the internet doesn’t need to be too.

I sincerely regret coming to this decision and feeling these feelings but if you take nothing else from this, take this: be kind to strangers. Watch what you say. Children are off limits, always, and you should be honored to even have access to people’s families in this day and age. Go touch some grass and be merry.

Truth Time

My priorities are screwed. I’d rather spend time playing sims, scrolling instagram, and typing captions and blog posts in my notes app rather than posting them. Why? I feel unqualified to be a “mom blogger”. I feel like I’m too “new” to motherhood to have the audacity to sit and document our experiences; but 500 people have seen my blog. I can’t be THAT unqualified if my follower count and engagements are steadily growing. Somebody, somewhere out there needs to hear what I have to stay and if not now, when?

This is my accountability post. This is me reminding myself that there is no such thing as “unqualified” or “ready”. It’s either do or die; now or never. I’m giving myself permission to have the confidence of a man! Y’all know they have some CONFIDENCE okay? So, this is our comeback. This is me freeing myself from my imposter syndrome and taking baby steps with big leaps in between.

I am Destiny, THE Hot Young Mom, and it is SO nice to meet you all!

Baby, you Blue me away

I think I’ve got a case of the Baby Blues.

I love my daughter. I love being her mom. I even like doing it “alone” if I’m being truly honest. But I think I’ve got those good ‘ol Baby Blues.

I feel like Eeyore if he sat in the sun all day; kinda happy, mostly sad. Like the weight of the world is on my shoulders but also like I could drop it off if need be. Like, I can see the sun but I can’t see the sun. Like those sweet little baby laughs are SO damned cute but also, they don’t do anything for me. And that sounds weird cause if you know me, you know I loooove kids and always have but something ain’t clicking with me and Bean. It’s like we keep running towards each other, getting realllllll close, and then dropping the baton. I don’t get it; or like it, for that matter. I’ve been mulling over why I feel like this and I’ve finally found the reason.

I felt lonely during my pregnancy. What was supposed to be the “happiest time of my life” was filled with anger, loneliness, hurt, disgust, and disappointment. Don’t get me wrong, my family and friends did a STANDUP job at filling in the gaps and being there for me but it just don’t hit the same (I’m assuming) as when the other parent is there with -and for- you. I would’ve given almost anything to have my child’s father with me during my pregnancy, and in the months following. There is truly nothing like real, unrequited love and I would’ve given the moon all of the stars in the sky just to have a smidgen of that from Bean’s dad. I can not connect with her and love on her like I need to because I can’t stop associating parts of her growth with him and the way he treated me while she was growing inside of me. And the way he still does things.

And see, I’m doing it again. I’m doing that thing where I don’t say, or type, the “wrong” thing because I don’t want to give him or any of his family any reason to call me the “bitter baby mama” (again) but eff that. I am bitter. And I have every right to be. I have carried the weight and bore the burdens (& joys!!!) of parenthood everyday since January 15th, 2020. ME. Not him. Me. I have every right to be bitter and angry and hurt and sad.

Why? Because when I needed him the most, he left me to lean on myself. So f*ck you if you read this and call me bitter or think to yourself that I should “get over it”. I have to live with the guilt of feeling a drop of regret for my child everyday because the memories her growth are entangled in loneliness and anger. That’s a huge burden to bear and I have no choice but to bear it and carry it. And carry it well. I have to roll over every morning, look her in the eyes, and remind myself that before I even knew who she was I loved her in some capacity. I have to dig real deep to find that glimmer of happiness I felt in the brief moments between seeing the positive pregnancy test and telling him the news. She is my sunshine on my cloudy days and I just want to feel like that, everyday. Most days. Everyday ain’t gone be sunny, that much I know, but I would truly give anything to feel some kind of over-the-mom love for her. I want my chick flick, put the baby on mom and mom starts crying moment. I think I deserve that much. Actually, I know I do and did and it saddens me that I didn’t get it and likely never will. Truthfully.

“What is your biggest fear?”

TW: death. If you are sensitive to the topic of death please proceed with caution. There are no mentions of gory or graphic details.

Can I be wildly honest?

My biggest fear is dying. I don’t mean that to sound poetic. My biggest fear is dying. I have never been afraid of death and I always knew it was inevitable but I am truly afraid of dying now. Every time I’m in the kitchen and my baby is in the room or with my mom or grandma and she cries, I’m scared to die. I can not fathom leaving her in this world without me. Every time she’s crying for me and me only, my heart shatters at the thought of one day not being here for her. I say an extra prayer on those nights.

“Lord, give me as many years as possible with her. Let the both of us be old and grey before I go. Please.”

I can only imagine how I’d be longing to jump out of heaven to get to my girl. Lord, I am SCARED of dying. And I’ve never been. But it’s something truly sobering about her mommy-specific screams that make death so terrifying. I’ll never be ready and I know she won’t either and if you ever wondered why I’m already holding her so close…

I’m scared to die and leave her all alone. She is my comfort and my happy place as much as I am her’s. I hope we get many lifetimes together.

I, (Used To Be) A Victim

Sad, lonely, fearful, anxiety-ridden. That was me.

I grew up in abuse; it was all I knew for years. I never felt comfortable at home, near certain family members, around loud noises- was never settled. It’s been about 4 years since I was in that space and my GOD, it seems as if the triggers have gotten worse. Trauma never stops stirring your spirit, making you anxious; it can quite literally change your brain. Post traumatic stress disorder is everlasting and can take years of therapy, spiritual work, and coping mechanisms to overcome. Now couple those triggers and feelings with being a new mom, in a cross country co-parenting situation, and listen… this is going to take a WHOLE lot of patience, unlearning, undoing, and forgiveness. But, I’m committed to doing the work because my daughter deserves a mother who is whole and healthy and kind and capable and patient.

More than that, I deserve to be all of those things, for me. My daughter deserves to grow up with a mother and father who don’t argue in front of her, who don’t make her choose; so I must fully forgive him. I must dig deep and find the love I used to have for him and pour it back into our relationship. I have to finally accept the bad for the bad and take the good memories with a grain of salt and move on; once and for all. I must learn to navigate and acknowledge my triggers so those sweet baby cries and yells don’t startle or frustrate me; so I can hear them for exactly what they are- communication. I’m only 5 months in the game, but I’ve got some skin in the game already and I’m ready to earn my stripes.

This is me holding myself accountable for my personal betterment and for my daughter’s development. Cheers to growth and grace!