Another reflection post…

My older sister and I were raised by my father in the 1990’s when this was very uncommon. My father is one of my best friends and I am forever grateful that he fought to have custody of my sister and I, but that is a story for another time. Growing up, my mother was around, but not involved (if that makes sense). She was not a collaborative adult who would work with my dad to help raise her two oldest daughters. Instead, she was unreliable with visitation and thought material things and child support were sufficient contributions to her children’s lives. My older sister has told me in the past that my mother would tell us that she was coming to get us, and every time I would pack my bags and await her arrival. My sister on the other hand, grew accustomed to the pattern and stopped believing our mother. I have not shared this information in an attempt to bash my mother, but more so to shed light on my experience and link it to the message I want to share in this post.

I have always received the love of my father, but lacked the love of my mother. Therefore, I searched for that “mothering” that I never received. I do not think that I ever found what I was looking for, but rather accepted my life as it was. I am a little rough around the edges, but I think my father did an awesome job raising my sister and I. I do often wonder how would I and my life be different if I had experienced a mother’s love…is a mother’s love even needed in some cases? I do not feel as though I can fully answer the latter question due to my inexperience.

What is a mother’s love?