Ode To My Mom

* Mom please don't hurt me for posting pictures of you!! *

Ode to My Mom ….

My mom was 20 when she got pregnant with me in 1975. A few years before Roe vs. Wade was decided upon … abortion was legal (but we won’t go there) .. and here my mom was, the 2^nd oldest of 8 children (mind you the rest were ALL brothers) … but I think at that time, pregnancy for the single female was still frowned upon and shunned.

My mom has always been the strong individual. If she doesn’t like your crap, she’ll tell you so. Sometimes she can get scary, there are times when I swear I’ve seen steam shooting out her ears. I can just imagine what she would say to those who looked at her twice, in that shameful way. But I don’t know because we never talked about it. If my mom wanted me to know, I think she would have told me.

Regardless, she was living at home, with my Grandparents (I miss them so!) … and several of her brothers, the youngest of which was 13 when I was born. She often tells the story of how when I was just born (I think? Or she might have been pregnant with me) … my uncle (the 13 yr old one) got up, sleepwalking … and walked to the patio door, opened it – as if he were letting the dog out – and waited, then eventually let the dog back in. Only problem was, the dog – was by my mom’s feet liking at her like “what is he doing?” Then my uncle went back to bed. Humph… yes, sleeping walking runs in the family! Calahan (my 13 yr old) has been known to do it.

I once saw a photo of my mom standing outside, under my Grandma’s Crab Apple Tree … pregnant with me. It was the only photo I remember seeing of her pregnant with me.

My Dad, btw, had joined the Navy. He had gotten a divorce from his first wife (whom he had two daughters with, my older half sisters) and he and my mom dated. I was literally one of those “Oops” babies…. But I never felt it from my Mom, or my and of my family. My Dad had tried to talk my mom into an abortion or adoption during her pregnancy (I know I found the letters, I was a snoopy little child) … he comes from a very strict Irish Catholic family. His family basically disowned me the moment they found out about me. I didn’t exist to them. They did, however, acknowledge my older half sisters, and my half brother & half sister who came after me. See, my Dad met my step-mom and they got married. From what my mom says, it was my Step-Mom that really made my Dad step up with me, and later on, after my Grandpa C. died (My Dad’s dad) … then my Grandma C. (my Dad’s Mom) took an interest me. And please don’t get me wrong, I love my Dad with all my heart, I love my Step-Mom and I love that side of the family. I still don’t know them very well, I have a ton of cousins I’ve never met, and I’ve only seen my siblings a handful of times. It hurts in a way, still to this day, because it’s FAMILY and family means a lot to me, basically because of the way I was brought up.

Family means everything.

I can’t imagine being pregnant with me was easy but my mom never thought twice about having me, that I know of. I’m not sure my Grandparents ever did either. At least it never seemed that way. I think – in my head anyway – that my Grandparents just embraced my mom, and told her everything would be okay. Life wasn’t always peachy with my Grandparents, but my Grandpa had the BIGGEST heart, and my Grandma had a hard edge but a soft heart.

Through the pregnancy, my mom swore I was a boy (much like I swore Cal was a girl!) I was to be named “Nathan Allen”… and on June 25, 1976 .. when I was born … 9:06 am (or something like that) … all 7lbs 6oz of me .. my mom looked at my Grandmother and told her she better be looking to her sons for more grandbabies cuz another one would NOT be coming from her. (And true to her word, I am her only child.) … Then they proceeded to argue over the spelling of my name. See, I was named after a girl named Buffy on the show FAMILY AFFIAR … Mary Anissa Jones … she was called “Anissa” not Mary by those who loved her. My Mom said that it was spelled Anissa, my Grandma said it was AnNissa … and well, my Grandma won but my Mom was right. My middle name is Rae, after my Dad, and my DR. (both Raymond) … on a sad note, 2 months after I was born, Mary Anissa Jones died of an overdose. Mom had kept the obituary and I had found it years later, finding it extremely morbid that two months after my birth, she died

My mom worked hard, going to school, working full time while my Grandma (a stay at home mom) took care of me. I was put in my Grandparents room when I was a baby so my mom could get sleep, so they took care of me a lot, but my Mom loved me and took care of me every moment she was not working or going to school. She did everything she could to make sure that I was cared and provided for.

Even though I was the first grandchild, in a lot of ways, I was like the “little sister” to my uncles, and the “youngest daughter” of the family. I was my Grandfather’s baby girl though. I was the apple of his eye, the love of his life. He only punished me once in my life that I can remembered, and I deserved it, because I opened the car door while he was driving. (Shame on me!) … (In the photo of me and my Grandpa there, that is my mom hiding behind him... she *HATES* her pictures taken!)

My childhood was mostly my mom working, but we were very close. I knew I could go to my mom over just about anything, well… I could go to her about anything but I didn’t go to her about some stuff…. Her (now ex) boyfriend shooting at me when I was 16 .. I wasn’t sure he was trying to shoot at me, but he was drunk and he did – the bullet came close to my head (with in inches – I could hear it wiz by) .. and I didn’t go back into the house. I waited until after she came home to go back in. I knew that she loved him, and I couldn’t bare the thought of telling her he did something like that. I mean, honestly, he was a drunk and abusive to her, and I thought she must see something in him that I didn’t cuz I didn’t like him at all. She left a few times, but went back too. She spent too many years with him before she finally left, for good. Broken fingers, brusies. My mom survived an abusive relationship. She IS a survivor of abuse. I also didn’t tell her what happened to when I was younger by I won’t mention who but she knows, until after the sheit hit the fan with my ex-husband. I didn’t tell her then, because I saw my family taking the side of that person all the time, and I just felt like I wouldn’t be believed. I did finally tell her when I was 25 … after having lived with it since I was 10 years old. Fifteen years is a long time to keep something that from the mother you tell just about everything to. I cried and cried when I told her, and even though we were on the phone, thousands and thousands of miles apart, I could feel her energy around me protecting me, if that makes any sense. I don’t hide anything from my mom, it might take me time to tell her stuff, but she knows everything because my mom IS my best friend (so is Dennis but that’s not the point).

Growing up in an odd combined family where I was basically raised by my Grandparents, Loved whole heartedly by my mother, and once I got older (and we moved out, she still had to work full time) was basically left to fend for myself. My mom was great, she gave me my space, let me do my thing… and she was still there making sure that I took those right roads, made the right choices, she was there to applauded me when I needed it, she was there to hold me when I fell. But something about me, and her, made a great pair .. when her best friends daughter was getting into trouble one day, and she had called to confide in her, to vent her sorrow and frustrations, my mom got off the phone with her and she said .. “How did I get so lucky?” … she questioned how she got so lucky because I always have been the classic “good girl” I only got into trouble once, I shop lifted when I was 12. I got caught, got in trouble and they called my mom. Now, my mom worked at the court house at the time, so – yeah – not a very good thing for her if they found out. She was mad, she made me call my Dad and tell him. I cried and cried, and that was all it took. I never got into trouble again really. She said that I basically had to raise myself (in my teen years), but yet I never did drugs, I never drank, I didn’t pick up smoking and I never did stupid crap “normal” teenagers did. I got sick when I was 16, and that continued for several years (still does actually, but I have relapses and remissions – auto-immune disorder) … but my mom literally cried for her friend, as she thanked her lucky stars for being blessed with a good girl.

I was so happy when she met my Step-Dad, skeptical at first, them meeting on the internet and all, but I quickly realized she was right where she needed to be. He’s good for her, and she’s GREAT for him. LOL….

My mom has ALWAYS been there for me, even when she can’t be physically there. She’s always there to listen, to offer advice knowing I have to do it my own way and re-offer advice when needed. When I got pregnant at 18, she was supportive and there for me in every way. She

has been there for ALL of her grandson’s births. She was the proudest grandma … eh, I mean Nana … when she first held Calahan. She fell head over heals in love. Then Noah came along and she was by my side every moment (other then during the c-section) of the pregnancy and everything when I needed her, through the diagnosis and the fear … even when my ex husband was going to and did ditch me because snowmobiling was more important. She was there holding me up when my ex husband was accused of something horrible that he adamantly denied (I was stupid enough to believe him for a few years, found out it was true after the divorce and he was back in jail) and then through the divorce. She was there to help build me back up and set me free again when I needed it, and then I met Dennis. She was there for me during Nathan’s & Kaedyn’s pregnancies and births… and all the diagnosis’s there after with Nathan. Not to mention that she was so happy she FINALLY got her “Nathan” … and even though he’s a mini-Dennis, apparently he’s a mini-Nana too…

My mom does everything in her power to make sure that her grandkids have everything they could possibly need, and sometimes those magical things they really want. She supports me in every way and I love her so much. I love being able to pick up the phone in excitement or sorrow and have her voice on the other end. I appreciate the fact that I can do that and so many others can’t this Mother’s Day. My mom is my angel, she is my rock that holds me down a lot of the time. She has always done her very best to make sure that I was the very best I could be, and I know she loves me. She’s been through hard times of her own and she’s always been so strong through it all.

I love you Mom!!!

MY MOM

My Mom is my angle,

Who is here on Earth.

My Mom had held my hand,

Since before she even gave birth.

My Mom is my hero,

Superhero strength she does not lack.

She surely deserves,

That MOTHER OF THE YEAR plaque.

My Mom had held my hand,

Through all my good times and bad.

My Mom has been there for me,

For every moment, happy or sad.

My Mom has given so much of herself,

There are seeds of her in me,

To be a better mother,

And everything else I can, you see.

My Mom is the hand that pulls me up,

Every time I fall.

My Mom amazes me with her strength,

Her survival, herself all and all.

My Mom doesn’t thinks she’s beautiful,

But she can’t see herself the way I do.

Her beauty radiates through time,

Through me, and through her grandsons too.

My Mom has loved me,

Unconditionally, endlessly,

She had supported and guided,

Given me everything I needed to be me.

My Mom is my hero,

I can’t imagine her not in my life.

After all, she molded who I am today,

Everything I am, the mom and wife.

© Annissa Rae - 5/10/2009