She Made A Mother Out Of Me

Fifteen years ago today, a small white child was pulled from my body.

That’s a weird way to say that fifteen years ago I became a mother, right? I know. It is weird. Borderline cold and heartless. But if you’ve read my book, Ain’t That A Mother, then you know that 15.75 years ago I was actively trying not to become a parent. But you know what they say - (wo)man plans, God laughs. And y’all, on the day I got pregnant God was doing a one man show at The Comedy Store and was killin’ it!

The other thing that is weird about that statement is that I, a very brown woman, had a small white child pulled from her body. It’s true. My child came out white as day and the first words she heard me say was “why is she white?”. True story. Not me gushing about how beautiful she is or how in love with her I am. Nope. I questioned her skin color. And I am fully convinced that this, in some small way, has contributed to her more-than-occasional disdain for me. And I’m ok with that. I’d roll my eyes at me too if I had to deal with me from minute one of life on earth. I’m kind of a lot.

But so is she.

She is the purest joy on earth. When God said “I’m going to create the word ‘joy’” I guarantee you he was envisioning my child. At fifteen she is still just as excited to wake up and see me first thing in the morning as she was when she was six months old.

She is strong-willed. You’d have better luck converting a lifelong atheist to Christianity than you would trying to convince my child to do something she doesn’t want to do. She lives and dies by “ ‘NO’ is a complete sentence.”

She is hilarious. I don’t know who started the rumor that disabled people aren’t funny but let me be the first to tell you - my girl is here for the shenanigans. ALL OF THEM. The girl sends me into full-on belly laughs at least once a day.

She is confident. Lemme tell you somethin’ - we could all stand to learn a thing or two from my kid about not giving a fuck. She seriously doesn’t - this girl does her 365/24/7 and doesn’t give a damn about what you, the world, or I have to say about it. Her favorite accessory? A mirror. She can’t resist one. If there’s one in sight she’s going to stare at herself until YOU’RE uncomfortable. Because she’s just fine with herself. She knows she’s beautiful. She’s knows she’s sporty-orty-dope-alicious. If there’s something she wants to try, that means I have to try it too because she won’t stop bugging me about it until I make it happen. Like indoor skydiving. It was never on my bucket list but she sure did have me check it off.

She is love and compassion and empathy. Always ready with a hug, a kiss on the forehead, or if you’re really struggling, a headlock, to let you know you are supremely loved, and it’s all going to be ok.

Somehow, she is both non-judgemental and judgier than the late Joan Rivers. She will big-up the homeless man on the corner. Share her lunch with the kid that smells a little funny. But let me try to walk out the house with some shoes she ain’t feelin’. Then the whole world has to come to a grinding halt as she loudly exclaims “NO!” while pointing to my shoes and ordering me to go change them, immediately. I guess it’s true - you really can hold two truths at the same time.

She is also the exact EVERYTHING I needed to become the woman I am today, the mother I am today, the human being I am today.

I often jokingly chide her with “hey don’t be mad at me - you chose this life” when she’s stomping her foot because she doesn’t approve of yet another decision I’ve made as the responsible adult in our house. But the truth is, I am so very honored and lucky and blessed that she peered down on lil ‘ol me in 2008 and let God convince her that yeah, I was the right one.¹

So today, on May 14, 2024, please join me in wishing the most amazing kid I know, the kid who went from being the small white child they pulled from my belly to the teenager who made a mother out of me - please join me in wishing Miss Emory a very happy birthday.

My whole heart is out there in the world, y’all. My whole entire heart.

1. It’s cool if you don’t believe in God or think babies choose their parents. It’s my substack and I do. So that’s that. Heart emoji.