Motherhood Essay

During the formative years of my life, my mother was all that I had.But as a child, I never quite felt my father's absence because my mother deluged me with love.Not that I want to be a cliché or anything, but I believe the answer lies within my mother.

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This decision ran counter to everything I was raised to believe in the 1970s and '80s and everything I had done to prepare myself for adulthood.

In my world, if you went to school alongside the boys, and then worked alongside the men, you didn't give it all up because parenting small children while working full time turns out to be really tough.

On the flip side, I was telling her she was the most important person in the world.

I'm still ashamed of how I treated my mom after she came out.

As a result, I felt a persistent, nagging pressure to uphold an image of perfection for myself and my family.

Every argument between my parents, every bad choice I made, every lousy report card I took home, felt like a referendum on the way I was being raised.

I wanted them to have confidence in themselves and their unique abilities while still being compassionate and empathetic to others.

I felt my mission as a parent was to ensure I had well-adjusted children. In my attempt to shield Emily from anything that could hurt her emotionally, I harmed her.

I'd grown up in a community suffused with homophobia — neighbors and family members alike tossed around works like "dyke" and "faggot" all the time.

At first, that atmosphere turned me against my mother. As I grew older, thankfully, that anger dissolved into love and acceptance of her and our unusual family.

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