Category Archives: Emotional Damage

From “We” to “Me”

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When I first started my single-parent journey breaking the habit of saying “we” was not only tough, it was something I wasn’t sure would ever happen. If you’ve been with me for a while you may remember me blogging about the difficulty and how I had to change my perspective and redefine “we”. In my own experience transitioning into single parenthood comes with many redefining terms. I decided to write this blog because I wanted people to know, it does happen. It takes time, there is NO specific timeline, but it happens. There is light at the end of the tunnel. It took me about 2 years (maybe one but honestly 2020 is a blur) but I am more comfortable than ever saying “me”.

First of all, I occasionally say “we” but I know who “we” consists of. When I use the pronoun “we” I am not speaking of my child’s other parent, I am however honoring my support system and giving them credit for assisting me in whatever the task is at hand. For example, “we’ve talked to him extensively about knowing the difference between what he can and can’t control.” I didn’t make that sentence up lol, it’s from a conversation my mother and I had with my son’s teacher. However, not only was I the one that made the comment, but I also felt it was important to honor her for assisting in those conversations with him. She understood and knew what I was trying to accomplish and made it a point to reinforce the concept with him. I appreciate her efforts and the efforts of my entire support system and so yes, when appropriate I honor them in public by saying “we”.

Second, yes I have healed considerably over the last three-four years, and with that has come a different love and respect for myself and the effort I put into providing for and raising my son. I work my ass off to ensure he has everything he needs and a great portion of what he wants. Hell, if I am being completely honest homeboy has a mild sense of entitlement( something else we’re working on and that deserves a blog all of its own). I DESERVE to say “me”, “mine”, “I”, and not feel any pain or a sense of loss and I am now at a point where I respect myself and my hustle enough to be able to do so. Saying “me” and/or “I” when discussing a decision I’ve made for my son is a form of respect. I am not being prideful, but in reality, I am setting the expectation for others when they need to address me about my son, and I am also acknowledging that I am the expert when it comes to his care.

Using the pronouns “me” and “I” also remind my son who is family is. He is now old enough to understand and feel the pain of having an absentee father and while I allow him space to freely talk and express his feelings, I also want him to remember who his family consists of. At his age, it is easy to imagine a scenery where he has and lives in a nuclear family, and while he may one day get an earthly father, it hasn’t happened yet…so stay in the present. I need him to know, honor and love the family he has.

In closing, your journey will not happen the way mine did but I wanted to share there is a point where your pronouns won’t bring you pain. Remember as you continue to heal your perspective will change, and with that change of perspective comes more resolve for how you will personalize and cope through this. Take it day by day, you will eventually get there.

If I’m Being Honest

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If I’m being honest (and I am) I am beginning to have some concern for my son’s mental well-being during the pandemic. I’ll admit because he didn’t start the pandemic asking a million questions, or showing any real signs of fear I’d hoped we got through the rough period. Actually I’d hoped that he wouldn’t recognize the change and wouldn’t recognize things were different. I’d hoped he’d be able to get out of this without really knowing what happened. However, I was wrong. Delay is not definitive of denial and that was the case with my son. As time progressed, as our Stay at Home Order has been extended I’ve begun to notice things. I notice how some days he’s reluctant to go outside; yet other days he doesn’t want to go back in. I’ve noticed the excessive clinginess; the random crying outburst for no reason. I can see the fear and curiosity in his eyes when he sees everyone in masks. He’s realized he can ride to the store but no longer go in. He’s realized he no longer goes to daycare to see his teachers and friends. He’s realized we no longer go anywhere; the park; church; the mall; playdates; museums; kids shows; no more Mommy and me outings; no haircuts; none of it! And while I thought I’d escaped having to discuss this with him he wants to know why.

My personal parenting philosophy is to tell the truth, with very little sugar coating. For example stories are stories and lies are lies. Yes I shield his sense of imagination; and his feelings. I understand he has very little emotional capacity but I try to be as straightforward with him as possible. In this instance it’s too much! Yes, he deserves answers; he deserves to know what’s going on; he deserves to know why his routine has been interrupted but he also deserves to have his mental state protected. 

If I’m being honest I don’t know where to start. The Stay at Home Order is a must; our abiding by the Order is another must as it’s the best way to ensure our safety, but I’m not sure how to have this heavy conversation with him. If I’m being honest I don’t want to have this conversation with him. We literally just talked about his absent father and from what I can see he’s doing alright with that. Why must I burden a 2 year old with a pandemic as well?!? I want to protect him; his emotional capacity; his innocence. I just no longer think it’s possible. It hurts me that my young son has to bear so much unnecessary pain. Because of this I am concerned for his mental state. I’d already planned to get him a counselor once he got older to talk about and work through both the pain of not having his biological father around and the trauma of being a black boy in America. However that’s in the future, I need to help his mental state now. I’ve worked as hard as I can to keep him on his daycare schedule; we go outside as much as possible; we engage in cooking and art; we have movie nights every weekend; we have dance parties; I make sure he hears our virtual church services and Bible Studies. We get involved in the Kid’s Zoom Meet Up for church; he’s had a virtual Playdate; and I’m feverishly searching for a dog; he needs a companion. Yet, I can’t help feeling like a failure when he randomly bursts into tears; or when he gets scared because he sees a face covering. Is this really the world my child is going to grow up in?!? I can’t help but wonder how this will affect him mentally and emotionally. I also can’t help but wonder what more can I do to help him.

If I’m being honest I feel this will have a significant affect on all our children. Missed milestones such as graduations, proms and luncheons; canceled dances, sports, and arts; celebrating birthdays alone. While it’s all necessary it’s a lot to ask of our children. My heart goes out to them because I understand their sacrifices are robbing them of dreams and prolonging goals. Our villages (family, friends, parenting circles) are being stretched thin trying to make sure our babies know we understand and yet celebrate and commend them. It’s a lot!!! And while I’m being honest my heart especially goes out to my son’s half sister who is being robbed of her eighth grade luncheon and graduation. Should I care, absolutely not because of how her father disregards my son but do I care; yes, I’m a Mother. I wish (maybe too strong of a word but all I can think of right now) I could be apart of her new celebration of achievement; I’d just want to make it memorable for her but as it stands-that’s nowhere near an option. That’s not necessarily something I mourn but…I’m being honest(inserts shrug).

If I’m honest none of us want to raise broken children. I don’t want to raise a broken son; his mental and emotional health mean the world to me. But since I’m being honest this is too much for any of us😩

Son, I Too Have Asked “Where Is Your Daddy?”

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Another month in 2020, another month under a Stay at Home Order. t was my intention to release this blog last week but I spent my free time searching for a dog for my son. No such luck yet, but the rationale behind him getting a dog is an entirely different blog altogether. I’ve recently written a few blogs detailing how my son has been questioning and for as much as a toddler can- working through the answer to his burning question “where is my daddy?” This is something that I’ve continued to both pray on and blog about. I’ve gotten some good suggestions from you all and for that I thank you. This particular blog is going to take a different turn. It’s something I wrote to my son’s father on my son’s first birthday but never sent. When I found it in the notes section of my phone I debated writing it out and putting it away for my son to read at a much later age-not because I want him to hate his father but because I originally thought it would help if he saw that he wasn’t the only one with that question. As I sat reading the letter I decided against writing it out for my son to read; I feel it’s too emotional and I honestly don’t want him to combine my past pain with whatever pain he may be working through at that (future) stage of his life. I also flat out just don’t want my son to worry about me, that’s not his job. I have however decided to share the letter with my readers. I want people to know and “see” that healing is possible. Yes, healing hurts and it takes time but it’s worth it. I want people to understand I wasn’t always strong, or forgiving. I want whoever needs to hear this to know someone once walked in your shoes; felt your pain; and plans to make it to the other side. The other side being not only healing and forgiving my son’s father BUT also opening my heart to love again. You, too can do this. So here goes:

11/13/18 this day was so painful. It should’ve been very happy and honestly in spurts it was but as has been the last month, there were random periods of tears. Yup, our child’s first birthday and I cried….several times actually. The first time I cried was because I wanted to text you, well obviously that wasn’t an option but I realized the very reason I wanted to text, you honestly wouldn’t have been able to share with me. I wanted to reminisce, recall what was going on at certain points, reflect on how we felt or reacted to different events on the day I brought our son into the world. Slowly, I remembered you weren’t there. I couldn’t reminisce or recall with you; and there certainly could be no reflection because you weren’t there. Flashback to one year ago, I needed you so much that day. I needed you to hold my hand; to calm my nerves; to reassure me that everything was ok and I was doing a good job….cuz well I didn’t believe the nursing staff. I thought they kept telling me that just to keep me calm, to keep my blood pressure and heart rate down, to keep me from throwing up. I remember finally deciding to get the epidural after approximately 24 hours of labor with very little pain meds thinking “I don’t want this but if I end up having a c-section I also don’t wanna be knocked out and in recovery for 2 hours and not being able to hold my baby. My baby needs to feel one of his parents within the first few minutes of life…not after 2 hours.” I agreed, and in came the anesthesiologist explaining to me that I needed to be very still while he was placing the epidural in my back, even if I had a contraction I had to be still. If I moved I could risk him hitting a nerve and paralyzing me. Welp, the first time he tried I had one hell of a contraction, moved, screamed….he jumped and barely got the thing in. He took a step back, looked at it said it was terribly placed and he was gonna take that one out and reinsert it. Sir, I barely got through one attempt now you saying you wanna do it again? I guess the second time was a charm because he placed it perfectly and once it was in I immediately felt the medicine(sweet relief). 

After getting the epidural I remember falling asleep, finally some peace. I woke up  2-3 hours later, got rechecked, assured I’d finally made it to 9cm (because if they were wrong again I would’ve found the energy to scream at them) and being told “whatever you do don’t push; we’re gonna break everything down and set up for your son’s birth.” The. Longest. 30. Mins. Of. My. Life. I wanted to push so many times while they were setting up. It took forever, or so I thought. Finally, the doctor came over and asked if I was ready to deliver I told him no. 26.5 hrs later, the moment I’d been waiting on and I told him no. He asked me why not and I told him you weren’t there yet and you couldn’t miss it. He gave me an empathetic look, stared right into my eyes and told me it wasn’t like the ultrasound where they could keep playing around until you got there. This was different and the baby couldn’t wait. It was time and I had no other options. Fighting back tears I took a deep breath and said ok. Thus the delivery of our son began. 

For as terrible as labor was delivery was  surprisingly easy. It took us about 30 mins. I wore the oxygen mask between pushes to ensure my levels stayed high and that the baby was getting enough energy. It took around 7 pushes, no seriously it didn’t take much. Around the 4th push I looked over at my mom and asked where were you? I whinned about you missing it and her response was he’s probably with his daughter. I asked if you’d texted for an update and she said don’t worry keep pushing…..which meant no. Again, fighting back tears I kept pushing and a few minutes later the most beautiful baby I’ve ever laid eyes on was born. For the first time of many over the course of the last year I had to put my feelings aside and care for him. He made that easy, he immediately snuggled right under me once he was placed into my arms. Which, by the way took a little extra time as they originally didn’t like his heart rate. After a few minutes, his heart rate slowed to a pace they were comfortable with, they cleaned him, measured, weighed in and placed him in my arms. True love at first sight. Looking at him made me happy; holding him made me happy; him snuggling into my chest made me happy. And suddenly I felt too much joy to be sad. All I could do was wish you were there too. 


It dawned on me yesterday while reminiscing on the day our son was born that the day of his birthday was the second time I felt he and I weren’t a priority in your life; unfortunately it was the first time I felt you rejected us. Yesterday I realized I hadn’t forgiven you for not being there, but how could I? You were not there the day I needed you most. On top of that you never apologized for missing it. Ok so you started a new job that day, but you could’ve came back after work. You could’ve called and talked to me, hell you could’ve FaceTime-d me. I would’ve at least felt like you made an effort had any of that been done. Instead you did nothing, you didn’t even communicate to me that you weren’t coming back. Yea, that was the first instance of rejection and that realization triggered this particular burst of tears. That’s our son’s birth story, now you know how it went…and as a result why I cried. 

Absent Father Syndrome:

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Two-ish weeks ago I blogged about my son asking where is his father; I mentioned that his line of questioning tends to subside but not necessarily go away. While he’s currently not asking as much I am beginning to notice other effects of “where’s my daddy” syndrome. If you’ve read a few of my blogs, by now you know my son is a bit more observant than the normal two year old. I know that toddler’s super powers include sniffing out snacks, and asking questions but the level of questions mine asks….let’s just say he pays attention to everything. For example he’s already asking “why to everything”; or who; or any number of things he strings together; sometimes he even hits me with two questions at once. Like why does he already understand follow up questions?!? Any who, he’s extremely observant and this can be both a gift and a curse.

(In my opinion) there are a few things that make it a curse; one such trait is if he feels he knows a routine he won’t listen; he just keeps moving with what he thinks he knows then looks crazy when what he thinks should happen doesn’t. Another trait that makes him being extremely observant a curse is he watches intently then mimics what he sees. This is fine for positive behavior; learning manners and etiquette; washing hands; learning chores; etc but not the best thing when learning to groom. For example, there are two women in the house so at some point (even if we allow him to do something educational or watch tv JUST to keep him busy) he sees someone applying makeup. This is so irritating, as now he knows what makeup is and thinks it’s alright to play with the brushes. We explain to him that makeup brushes are NOT paint brushes and to put them down; and we also explain that makeup is something that women wear. We don’t admonish him; and we don’t berate him, we simply explain why makeup is used and whom it’s used by. I won’t necessarily say he gets it; but I know he hears us. We let him know that while women wear makeup men shave their faces. Then we find YouTube videos of black men shaving and show him. As of late I’ve also resorted to finding him a toy shaving kit. If anyone wants to purchase one for their son here’s my favorite ( https://www.lakeshorelearning.com/products/dramatic-play/dress-up-role-play/my-first-shaving-kit/p/PP889), problem is it’s sold out. The other toys I’ve found are a tad too old for him; and according to the reviews one is just not worth purchasing. I hope that once I get the shaving kit he can use that while we’re applying makeup or use it when we’re showing him videos of men shaving.

A second reason my son needs a male influence, he sees my heels and more often than not tries to put them on. They’re colorful and super cute so I understand why he’s attracted to them but this too has to be explained. Because there’s no male in the house for him to imitate he doesn’t see male shoes; or male clothes that aren’t his. To combat this issue when I’m out shopping I take him into the men’s section of the stores and let him pick out shoes he likes and then I slip his little feet into the shoes and let him stand and look in the mirror. We also go into the men’s clothing area and look around. I show him ties; dress shirts; hats(the bigger versions of what he wears now). We look at the mannequins and talk about how they’re dressed; what they have on. It’s still a lot though. This is not a constant thing as I’m not in the mall all the time and with “Shelter in Place” it’s going to be worse.

My child needs continuous male influence, he craves it; his behavior says so. Sure I can teach him to be a kind; smart; caring human but, I can’t teach him how to be a man. And if I’m being extremely honest I didn’t expect him to need to learn how to be a man so soon. I’m not quite sure what I was thinking; or if I thought about it at such a young age. What I do know is I have to make further adjustments; I have to figure out how to keep male behaviors in front of him so he knows and understands what to do.

From a woman’s perspective I need to hurry up and get married-lolbvs! However I’m not going to rush that. I refuse to settle or end up with someone who is TERRIBLE for both of us just because I was anxious to get a male in front of him. A terrible male influence can be worse than no male influence at all. Yet, I also don’t want to put him with my male friends too much and have him get the wrong understanding of the situation. It’s honestly a tough place to be in.

Where’s My Daddy?

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I decided to take a break from logging my homeschool experience to write about another incident that peaked about a week or so ago. Obviously you know where this is going because of the title so allow me to build the excitement a bit. One of the questions I knew I’d eventually have to answer is “where’s my father?” Because of the pain of rejection associated with the question I’d always hoped I was engaged or married when my son asked this; but I also hoped he wouldn’t ask before maybe four or five years of age. Engaged and or married to my son’s “new” father was optimal as it allowed me and my husband to jointly explain that his biological father chose to leave however his “new” father made a much tougher decision by choosing to love him. We’d explain how choosing to actively love; raise; and be in his life was a positive choice and it was one that everyone could be happy and at peace with. He’d understand both the power of choices AND the power of love. Older, allowed my son to better communicate his potential pain; questions; anger; any emotion he felt. Older allowed me/us to understand what he was feeling, and even if he tried to hide it we’d be able to figure it out based on his actions.

I prayed to God that I’d be engaged or married AND that my son would be older when he asked about his father; however neither was the case. My son initially asked about his father in November of 2019. He’d just turned two and in my mind this was much too heavy a topic for a two year old to discuss. Attempting to spare his feelings I ignored his question; needless to say that didn’t work long. He began frequently asking in which case I answered “I don’t know.” Again, a short, quick answer in attempt to avoid a conversation. Extremely uncomfortable with him asking about his dad I talked to his godfather and asked him to spend a little more time with him and to try to make it to his Christmas play (I was almost certain my son realized the other children’s fathers were at the Thanksgiving Play but not his). I also explained the situation to my mom and my son’s two godmothers and asked the three of them to stand in prayer with me for how to deal with the situation. After about one month my son stopped asking about his father. Thank GOD!!!! Thinking we were passed the situation I totally stopped praying about it and I subsequently told my mom and his godparents that he’d stop asking.

My relief was short lived; in February of this year (2020) my son started the “where’s my daddy” question again. In fact in my opinion it had gotten worse because now not only was he asking where his father was but if he saw a man (and I do mean any random man) he’d ask “is that my daddy” or shout “Daddy!” I wasn’t necessarily embarrassed by him calling other random men “Daddy” which is a first(but I believe I wasn’t embarrassed because they couldn’t hear him). I would however explain to my son the man in question wasn’t his father and I don’t know where his father is. Shocked and somewhat irritated at this question’s continuous re occurrence I again told my mother and his godparents. In separate conversations we all agreed there was no point in contacting his father, after all he did walkout on him. What was contacting him going to accomplish? We began praying about the situation again, but I took it a step further and asked one of his godmothers who is divorced how would she deal with it if we were in this situation with one of her children. Her answer wasn’t necessarily one I agreed with nor wanted to hear; she said she’d tell them the truth. I quickly disputed her answer saying it was different because her children were older. She responded with “that may be true but even if they were his age I’d tell them the truth…they deserve to know.” As much as I hated to admit she was right, he did deserve to know but why so soon? Was that really the only way to handle this?

A couple of weeks after this conversation with his divorced godmother my son threw one of his grand tantrums. He was kicking; screaming no; pushing off; just full blown shenanigans all because he couldn’t get his way. Somewhere in the conversation I told him that his current behavior was making it really hard to enjoy him and want to do things with him; and that was a huge problem for him as I was the only parent he had. I could see the intrigue on his face so I explained-he’d been asking about his father and the truth is he doesn’t have an earthly father. He has a Heavenly Father, one who loves him dearly; and He hadn’t sent him an earthly father yet. One day He will but until then all he (my son) has is his Heavenly Father and me. We’re a team and we have to work together and have one another’s back.

My son was heartbroken at hearing he didn’t have an earthly father. I had to remind him that I loved him and would always be here for him. His tantrum subsided but now he was sad. While I was hurt by his sadness and heart brokenness so early in life I was relieved it was out. He knew the truth but he was also reassured; and it was in the softest most truthful way I could imagine telling him. Because he’s too young to remember our talk he still randomly asks. I remind him of our talk and tell him to keep praying for an earthly father. This has been extremely difficult. I believe more than anything it was the one part of single parenting that I didn’t want to deal with. Yet it was unavoidable so it was equally important to deal with my own pain in order to be able to help him deal with his. It’s not over by far but the saving grace is I worked through my own healing therefore I can focus on his.

I wish this was avoidable; I wish it would’ve gone the way I wanted it to but for some reason it didn’t. I honestly don’t have time to dwell on the issue nor do I have time to sit and pout. All I can do at this point is attempt to keep him around positive male influences; and continue praying for the right person to come into our lives. If you have any suggestions or you’ve been through this and handled it in a different and successful way please feel free to comment below.