I’m A Damn Good Mom

“Shit got dammit that bastard!”

First thoughts while holding a positive pregnancy stick, feet on the bathroom floor, door closed.

I made my way back to bed and laid in the dark.

Thinking. Thinking. Thinking.

At 22 years old, taking a semester off from college, working a low paying job at the hospital, no car and living at home, this situation was not ideal.

This was not my parents expectation of me. This is backwards. This isn’t how they did it. They did it right. Got married, bought a home, then started a family. Look at me. Damn.

With a boyfriend/father to be 700 miles away at school who was due to graduate and be home in a couple months, I knew we weren’t ready for marriage.

What we would have to be ready for was parenthood. Because the thought of getting a quick abortion at my job before anyone knew, vanished as soon as it surfaced.

I did this. We did this. And now we’re gonna face it.

From the day of the reading I vowed to give motherhood my absolute everything.

Upon breaking the news to my parents, my mom asked in complete shock, “Are you ready to be a mom?”

“I better be.”

And that was that.


From the gate I made it a point to instill in my son responsibility and a sense of when he has done something wrong.

As a toddler before bath time he had to clean up his toys. Unruly behavior meant time out or toys taken away.

When he was old enough, it was mandatory he pushed his chair in at the dinner table and place dirty dishes in the sink.

Manners such as please, thank you, and excuse me were a requirement. Come school age homework was completed first before anything.

I demanded a lot from myself as a mom. I taught him how to read, worked hard for promotions, and hugs, kisses, and I love you’s were given everyday and still are.

Now my son is a 14 year old bright, handsome, mannerable young man. An above average student who loves school, basketball, and plans to study engineering.

Teachers and administrators (past and present) complement him and that’s a great feeling.

And I pat myself on the back for this.

Too often I feel that being a good mom is expected. As if its a default setting activated at birth. There is a process to parenting and no matter how many children one has, its still learn as you go.

I’m not a perfect mom. But I do my BEST. I give myself that. As moms we give so much of ourselves so effortlessly I don’t think we realize just how much we selflessly give.

Just because its our jobs as parents doesn’t mean we can’t acknowledge ourselves. We need to be uplifted too.

I’m a damn good mom…..

According to the Instagram shout outs I’m son approved.

So I must fuckin rock!

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Article Credits:

✏️: the Legal Pad

💻: MacBook Pro