Like Water

By Crystal M.

"Momma is like water. You know how you see rocks in a stream or a river, and over time, before you know it, the water has worn the rock down so that it can make its way where it wants to go? That's Momma." Struck by her brother's description of their mother as water inspired author Crystal M.'s book Like Water, an engaging and sometimes painful reflection about her mother, motherhood, and family with snippets and insights on childrearing and child psychology. Crystal and her siblings grew up un

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Nov 13, 2020
• ISBN: 9781628387988

Book preview

Chapter 1

It’s Friday evening, and like many other Fridays, I’m sitting in my car at a stoplight with my oldest brother, listening to him lament about how Momma doesn’t like me for the hundredth time. Intermittently, I throw in an Uh-huh, Yeah, and I know to make him think that I’m following the conversation. Actually, I’m secretly hoping that he’ll shut up or figure out I’m tired of hearing it. Due to a series of unfortunate circumstances, my brother had to move back home with my mother for a while, and she worked on his last nerve. He finally got his finances together and moved into his own apartment, but he just can’t let go of the fact that Momma had him under her thumb while he stayed at her house. Then my mind started to wonder back to the many times Momma said that she never wanted children, especially when we had really gotten on her nerves. She also told me that when I was pregnant with my first child. She told me that she never wanted children, and it didn’t bother me because I was here now, and there was nothing she could do about it. As I got older, I did wonder what her purpose was in telling me that. At that time, I didn’t remember her saying it in a manner that was threatening or accusatory, but I think she just wanted to get it off her chest. And she was being honest. For some people, honesty is not the best policy, especially not my brother when it came to her. Even though a parent needs to be honest with a child, some things are better left unsaid. Also, statements like that can have a lifelong impact on a person. The results, depending on how that person internalizes it, can be devastating or eye-opening. I think it’s a personal choice, and my brother predictably chose the former option.

Unfortunately, my mother finally told him recently that she didn’t want children when she had him, and she indicated that she didn’t like him because he was a rather difficult baby. So now he has a new excuse for all of the failures in his life. Sadly, it’s partly true.

Let me start at the beginning of this story. My mother told me that when she got married, she got pregnant immediately because there wasn’t a lot of birth control back then, and in addition, her parents weren’t very forthcoming about sex and how to prevent pregnancies. Mom also said that she stayed sick and was very anemic when she was pregnant, so she didn’t have the best pregnancy experience with her first child.

The story Mom told me about her marriage was that my dad had joined the air force and came home on leave. While he was home, he asked her to go out to dinner, and they ended up at his sister’s house with a preacher and a ring. She said he tricked her into marrying him, and she admitted that she was too scared to say no, so she ended up married. I stayed mad at my father for a long time after Mom told me that. That is until I got older and started to think that whole scenario through. After careful thought and observation, I came to the realization that what Mom conveyed was not always the truth.

Nevertheless, when my brother was born, my mom said he was really sickly. She said his skin was very transparent, that his veins could be seen through his skin, so she didn’t want to touch him. He was fussy, allergic to formula, and could not even tolerate breast milk, so the doctor put him on goat’s milk, which was the only thing that his system would tolerate. Mom said that he threw up all the time and was very colicky. Basically, he was a very hard baby to bond with. She was alone in Kansas City, Kansas, without any family or friends to support her and didn’t know what to do. She revealed that one night, my brother just kept on crying after she fed him, rocked him, and even walked the floor with him, but he just couldn’t be soothed. Totally tired and frustrated, she said she literally threw him back in the crib and sat down in the middle of the floor and cried. She said when Daddy heard the commotion, he jumped up, grabbed him, and angrily told her that from now on he would get up with him.

In defense of my mother’s actions, obviously it’s not right to throw a baby, but as I previously stated, some people are ill prepared to become a parent. I believe that just because a person can create a child, that in itself does not qualify a person to be a good parent. I also believe that there are some people who should not be parents. And that’s not a bad thing; it’s just a fact. I think that the problem comes in when people bring children into this world and really don’t want them. Unfortunately, many individuals have children due to carelessness. Oftentimes, these children become the victims of abusive parents and of homicide. I see it all the time on my job—young mothers having children but who are ill prepared to raise a child. It’s not to say that because they’re young they can’t be a good parent, but parenting is a full-time job, and some of them are trying to juggle a child, school, work, and, most times, a man. That’s a lot to ask of a person who is just beginning to know themselves, and for some, they have no clue how to maintain a household, create a budget, pay the bills, keep themselves and the child dressed and healthy. That’s not including keeping important appointments to make sure that they keep housing, medical care, and food. The sad part about this whole scenario is that a lot of the young mothers that I work with have never had an example of how to run a household or how to maintain a relationship. For them it’s either or. They either focus on one thing or the other, and more times than not, all of their energy is focused on the relationship, which lets everything else suffer. And what usually suffers is the child.

People like to think that babies and young children don’t remember certain things, and I’ve heard time and time again the statement that children are resilient, they bounce right back, but with what residual effects do they bounce back? I think that my brother not bonding with my mother has been one of the biggest problems that has affected his past relationships. When I think back, I realize that he’s never maintained a relationship for long. He’s had some of the nicest wives and girlfriends that he brought home to meet the family. None of his relationships lasted for long, and I’m sure there were two sides to their stories. However, I wasn’t there during their relationships, but I’ll bet my last paycheck that a lot of the problems had to do with his lack of remorse or caring, which goes back to the lack of bonding between him and my mother.

The increasing crescendo of my brother’s voice brings me back to the present where I’m still sitting in my car, and now the light is green, so I put my foot on the gas while listening to him get to a part of the conversation that I can repeat word for word: Your momma’s a trip! She just picks and picks and picks to get me pissed off; and as soon as she sees that I’m mad, she acts like she’s happy, like that was her ultimate goal! And he goes on, I can’t believe that I feel guilty about moving out after putting up with Momma’s crap! I actually feel bad about it until I go over there and she starts picking and complaining. I want to have a good relationship with Mom. I would like to be able to sit down with her and just have a talk, but the minute she opens up her mouth and starts picking, I’m so glad I’m gone. She’s got such a smart-mouth that I often envision myself hitting her in the mouth every time she says so! That’s Mom’s favorite answer for every argument, especially when she’s on the losing end, So? I feel bad that I feel that way too about my eighty-something-year-old mother, but she can make you go there.

He goes on, The crazy thing about all of this is that when I moved out, I found myself getting up early and cleaning and experiencing a general feeling that I needed to do something because that’s the way Mom makes you feel when you live with her. No matter what you do, it’s not good enough for her. Before I left her house, I found myself going out of my way to make sure everything was done before she got up, and she still complained. You know what? Momma is like water. You know how you see rocks in a stream or a river, and over time, before you know it, the water has worn the rock down so that it can make its way where it wants to go? That’s Momma. She’s relentless. She won’t stop until she wears you down and gets what she wants. He had my full attention then. His description was dead on, and it made perfect sense. She was like water, a raging river when she put her mind to it! And she did mold us much like water does to rocks in a stream. Slowly, methodically tumbling, unbeknownst to us, she molded us to her liking. If you crossed her, she would be like a whirlpool pulling you in and under until you gave in to her will. And like a stone in the water, she molded me, smoothed me, took some of the edges off, left a few rough spots, and prepared me for who I am today.

I chuckled to myself, and my brother looked at me like I was crazy.

What are you laughing at? he said with a wary look on his face.

I smiled and said, I was picturing what you said about Momma. She’s like water, and that is so true. He seemed surprised that I was really listening to him, and he had to smile himself. Yeah, Momma is just like water, I said as I pull into Momma’s driveway to take my sister grocery shopping for Momma like I’ve done every Friday for the last twenty-eight years.

Chapter 2

From what I understand, it’s always dark in the beginning. Whether it be the darkness of unknowing or the darkness of the absence of light, darkness is eminent. As was the beginning of my life, I remember it being very dark. I couldn’t see, but I could sense a presence emanating a constant calm. There was communication, a nonverbal communication that went something like this:

It won’t be long.

But it’s so dark! I can’t see.

It’s all right. I’m always with you.

I don’t like it here, I can’t move.

It’s all right. I’m with you.

As hard as it is for others to believe, I remember several events that occurred before I turned two, especially a vivid memory of a place that held my existence before coming to this world. This place was an infinite place of peace and beauty that emanated a color that I’ve never seen here on earth. I could not define a beginning or ending of this place. It just was. The most prominent part of this memory is that I had a strong feeling of not wanting to go back to where I had just come from. There was another being present who was letting me know that I had to go back, but I don’t remember why it was urgent that I go back, and the next thing I knew, I was in the womb. While in the womb, I realized that I was being constantly monitored by a force stronger than I, so I was never alone. There was always a soothing voice letting me know that I was being watched and protected by a being that was very powerful. A significant part of that memory is that I didn’t like being in that dark, close space. I am confident that’s the reason why I don’t like the dark, and why I’m claustrophobic. I also know that we are aware of our being from the very beginning of life even though those memories may be tucked away and long forgotten. From that experience, I learned very early that what happens to a child, no matter how young, affects them for the rest of their lives whether it is good or bad. This awareness has also brought me to some very strong beliefs that I hold onto even today.

I firmly believe that a person, who becomes a parent whether planned or unplanned, has an obligation to provide the basics for that child. These essential responsibilities include the provision of food, shelter, and clothing, a sense of self, respect for others as well as themselves, and the ability to step outside of themselves to see the needs of others. Character building of this positive nature can be accomplished by teaching them life lessons of how to serve others and to give selflessly. If a person cannot provide fundamental needs for a child or cultivate in their youngster something as basic as the desire to treat others as they desire to be treated, then it should the obligation of the parent to relinquish this critical role. Granted, parenting is not easy; therefore, parenting is not for everyone.

I also fervently believe that everything that happens to a child from day one has an impact on the person that this child will become. Regardless of how small the event may be, there is some memory stored and processed in their brain that eventually helps to shape their personal sense of reality.

I was born in White Sulphur Springs, West Virginia, in a big white house where a man by the name of Dr. Martin delivered me. My mother said that Dr. Martin practiced out of this house that had been converted into an office/medical center. Momma held a vehement distrust for hospitals after she had my brother, her third child, at a hospital in Ronceverte, West Virginia, which had a segregated maternity ward. She vowed she would never go back there to have another child. She was highly insulted because they put the black mothers on the sun porch while the white mothers were put into proper hospital rooms. To make it even worse, my mother had my brother on December 31. Obviously it had to have been to be colder out there in the elements than it was in the hospital proper.

Momma said that she and I were brought home from Dr. Martin’s practice in an ambulance the day following my birth. I was the fourth of five children and the first girl of the family. My father was ex-military, a service man of the air force. He didn’t reenlist because every time he came home on leave, my mother became pregnant, and with each pregnancy, she got sicker, making it necessary for him to come home. So he decided to take his chances as a civilian. For this reason, they moved back to Ronceverte, their hometown, after traveling to Kansas, Virginia, and when my dad did a stint in the Azores.

During that time, work was rather scarce, and the opportunities for a black man were pretty slim. Consequently, my dad decided to go to Ohio, where some of my mother’s family lived, and look for work. Daddy came to Ohio to stay with Mom’s cousin, Claire, who lived in Dayton. Claire was married to a very opportunistic man named Lewis, who always had some sort of big deal on the horizon. Dad was in Dayton a short while and found work at ^e Bicycle Club. He worked and saved up enough money to rent an apartment and send for Mom and us children.

Shortly thereafter, my parents packed us up, and we moved to Dayton to live in a housing complex by the name of Joy apartments. Ironically, I remember that trip even though I was just turning two. My father had gone ahead of us with the furniture, and my grandfather decided to drive us to Dayton to see our new place. Granddaddy had a big old Packard, which comfortably accommodated Mom, the four of us kids, Grandma, Auntie, and her two children in the car as well. Just imagine riding in a car for eight hours with two adults and a child in front and two adults and five children in the back with the speed limit at 35 mph. ^e car was so huge that Mom was able to sit two little kid chairs on the floor in the back of the car for the two youngest children to sit on during the ride. I remember thinking the smell of gas to be so intoxicating. I think the smell of the gas is what helped us sleep through most of the trip.

So that’s how I came to be in Dayton, Ohio, which marked the beginning of this journey. A journey that encompassed a whole gamut of emotions filled with happiness, sadness, loss, pain, fear, and wonderment. All of the ingredients of refinement and purpose if I chose to open myself to the path of learning, and enlightenment or bitterness if I chose to mire myself in the murky emotions that serve to mask the true lesson within the event. It has taken me a long time to get here, and I’m still learning, still reaching, still moving forward with the grace, help, and mercy of God.

Parents should be very careful about what they say to children because even if they can’t reiterate what the parents said, believe me when I tell you, they basically understand what you said and meant, and even though there are lots of things they forget, there are lots they remember.

After my family got settled here, my mother talked to her cousin to get the name of a doctor where she could go to and have her tubes tied. A procedure that my mom found out about from her cousin that she was very interested in because my parents were struggling to raise four children on a salary of thirty-five dollars a week. Mom said that she went to her first appointment, had her examination, and told the doctor what she wanted done to which he responded, OK, Mrs. Adams. We’ll schedule this in eight months after you have the baby. Momma said that she broke down and cried in the doctor’s office. ^is was the longest period of time that she had managed to go through without becoming pregnant. The first four of us are eighteen months apart. I was almost two, and here she was with child again. She told the doctor that they couldn’t afford to have another child. He told her that she needed to go home and discuss this with her husband and then decide what they wanted to do. According to what Mom told me, she and her cousin Claire decided that Claire would adopt the baby because she and her husband were doing very well financially, and they could afford to raise another child. Claire said she wanted another child and that they would raise it like their own, thus keeping the child in the family. Apparently, that plan fell through because eight months later, Mom came home with my sister. The initial plan was that she was going to deliver the baby, and that the baby would be taken away before she would see it so that she wouldn’t get attached to it and be given to Claire. However, Mom said that the doctor told the nurse to give Mom the baby at the last minute, and after Mom saw her, she couldn’t give her up. Her guilt behind her perceived disastrous decision was made apparent all throughout our childhood.

During the time that Mom was pregnant, before my sister was born, I remember getting very sick. I have a memory of being upstairs in the bed, and there was a pretty lady who would come out of the closet and talk to me. She was a pinkish white in color and clothes. Being a small child, I wasn’t scared because she spoke very softly and kindly to me, which was very comforting. Now I know that she was my guardian angel. As a child, I just thought she lived there. That particular day, she told me that I would be OK, and that my father had stopped and brought a gift for me to make me feel better because he was worried about me. She touched me on my head, told me I was going to be all right, and just as quick as she had come, she was gone. Soon after, I heard the door open, and Daddy’s voice floated upstairs. He came up the stairs and rubbed my hair and told me he had a surprise for me. He had brought me a little bank shaped like a bear that was filled with tootsie rolls. He looked at me, felt my forehead for fever, patted me on the head, and went back downstairs. Right after that, I started to get better.

A few months later, my dad was rushing across the street to get one of the neighbor’s girls to come and watch us because he and my mother were trying to get somewhere in a hurry. I was only two years and five months at the time so my understanding was limited, but I knew something wasn’t right. I didn’t know it at the time, but my mother was in labor, ready to have