I Am NOT Your Baby Girl Anymore, Mom
You know all my life I would look at the pictures of my birth mom and wonder what happened. Why she left. Why she never wrote. Why she never even attempted to contact me.
I was so angry for years. When I was twelve my grandparents gave me the chance to start looking for her. They gave me the last remaining address they had for her. I spent months looking her up online, Facebook, pretty much anywhere I could think of that she might have an account or information about her.
I never heard back from the letters I wrote or the emails. And every time I called a number that was in her name, I got no answer there either. Years later, I think I was like fifteen or something, my brother got my aunt’s number through Facebook and she agreed to speak to my birth mom and we could start communicating through phone calls.
I was so excited I couldn’t wait to hear from her. To ask her all the questions I had. If I had known how these years would have turned out, I never would have looked for her.
She called me and we talked for a hour but when I hung up the phone I realized she never really grew up. She was still stuck in the past, the time she lost my brother and me. She still thought of me as her baby girl. She was still drinking and just trying to forget the past.
But I wanted to get to know her, to see for myself. So when I was eighteen I moved in with her and her boyfriend a state away from my life here. The first day everything was so great. We went shopping and she took me out to eat and we talked about the past and she told me how sorry she was.
But the days following, I learned things I would rather forget. She was still drinking daily and I found out she recently started abusing pills. prescription medication she got from anyone she could, She said that when she had me they had her so doped up on medication that if a day goes by without taking medication, she gets so sick and she cannot get out of bed.
She was so full of excuses for everything we talked about. I realized once again she never grew up. She was still clinging to the past that is so far gone. Finally after only two weeks I told her I had enough and that I was leaving. She started yelling at me saying she wasn’t gonna let me go and that I’m staying forever.She took my phone and told me she smashed it. She didn’t know that I brought my old phone with me just in case something happened to my other phone. So I activated it and texted my fiance, who’s now my husband, to call the cops up here, to get me away from her. Long story short the cops showed up and when they found out I was eighteen and was no longer a minor, they got me out of the house. They then took me to the bus station where I stayed awake all night to afraid to sleep. Afraid my stuff would get stolen or that my mom would come looking for me.
When I was finally back with my fiance, I swore I was done with my mom, that I no longer cared about her. But for some reason For years after, I’d always answer her calls and talk to her.
Two years after everything happened, I can finally ignore her calls and no longer try to be her little girl. The past is the past for a reason. I no longer try to impress the mother she never was.

