Being Called Momma

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Everyone has an important rite of passage in their life. Mine was raising a brother and sister for my father. It was very hard. I would never take it back though. Those kids are my life. They helped me see that sometimes you need to be the bigger person in life. This is how my story goes.

To fully understand my story you need to hear about my childhood. My father is the perfect example of a horrid person. He was around long enough to get my mother pregnant twice. Each time he’d skip out on us. My god father cut the cord for my brother and I. when he had another son my half brother Eric, then five years later my half sister Abigail, I though he’d be responsible.

Every time I’d visit the routine would be wake up at 7:00 am fed the kids and change their diapers. Then I’d wait for my father to get up so we could hang out. Then go to bed at 11:00 pm to do it all again until last Valentines Day. I never complained though, I loved them too much. Now what about my step mother? She wasn’t there. She is a bipolar alcoholic with a drug addiction. She also refused to take her pills.

Now it would’ve been easier of the kids were older. Also Eric has autism. At the time he was five and couldn’t talk. He was also in diapers. Abby had ADHD at the age of two. This always worries me because I have no clue what they do now that I’m not there. It was the most profound thing to be called Momma. To Abby I was momma, not sister, not Taylor. Other people though I was her mom too.

Now it’s been almost two years since I’ve seen them. It is heart breaking not to knowhow they are. I have nightmares about what could be happening to them. This rite of passage sent my into shell shock.





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