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The Girl Is Mine
Parenting
The Girl Is Mine
Updated: July 2, 2016
Originally Published: July 2, 2016
The moment someone confused me for my daughter’s caregiver was one of the most mortifying experiences I’ve ever faced. We were leaving our first music class in Georgia when the instructor, with a bright smile, said, “You can just let Eliana’s parents know I’ll send them an email.” My face flushed, and my heart raced as I stammered, “Actually, she’s my daughter.” The teacher quickly apologized, but as I bent down to grab our shoes, another mom leaned over and said, “She probably thinks you look so young.” I appreciated the sentiment but hurried out of there, tears streaming down my face once I was far enough away to let my emotions flow.
The confusion regarding the teacher’s assumption about my relationship with Eliana lingered for weeks as she continued to reference “moms, dads, and nannies.” At first, I thought she couldn’t possibly be talking about me. Eventually, after one last awkward exchange where I had to remind her of my earlier correction, the misunderstanding, which I now refer to as “Nanny-Gate 2014,” finally came to a close.
When I first laid eyes on my daughter, I mentally prepared myself for the possibility that others might not see the resemblance. However, when it actually happened, I was grappling with postpartum depression, and the resulting grief was overwhelming. I had spent the preceding months doubting my readiness for motherhood and worrying that I was failing her. I loved Eliana with all my heart, which made me feel she deserved so much more.
The person who mistook me for my daughter’s nanny based this assumption on our different skin tones. When I married my husband, who comes from a different ethnic background, I never considered that our daughter might not resemble me. My racial identity is evident, while Eliana’s skin is fair, and aside from her curly hair, it would be easy for someone to assume she’s not from an interracial family.
The mistake was clear and frustrating, but the deeper hurt came from my internal dialogue: “Of course she wouldn’t think I’m Eliana’s mom because I’m a terrible mom.” Throughout my life, I have faced both subtle and overt racism, but in that moment, what shattered me was the loss of my identity as her mother.
It was one thing for me to doubt my ability to be a mom; it was another for someone else to imply I wasn’t one. I reflected on everything that one simple assumption took away from me and mourned that loss.
After a grueling 23 hours of labor, Eliana arrived, determined to change my life. As a newborn, she refused to sleep unless held, which meant I cradled her around the clock for weeks. We discovered she had severe reflux, leading to a frantic emergency room visit where I sobbed down the hall, convinced something was seriously wrong. My husband and I were the ones who woke up multiple times every night, and I lived in a sleep-deprived haze for almost two years. I nursed her on demand for 21 months, pouring my heart into every moment.
It wasn’t until someone questioned my role as her mother that I realized just how significant that title was to me. My reluctance to embrace motherhood stemmed more from self-doubt and guilt than anything else. After months of resisting my new identity, I now craved to claim it with pride. I wanted people to see the struggles I had endured and recognize the hard work I put into being her mom.
Slowly but surely, I’m beginning to believe that I am enough. The memory of being mistaken for a nanny fuels my determination to embrace my role as a mother. I know that there could be no one else for Eliana; there’s no fair-skinned woman waiting to pick her up after school.
As Eliana grows and interacts with the world, I hope that others will look past our skin color differences and recognize the bond we share. I wish for her to never feel hurt when questioned about our appearances. I hope she finds her identity without limitations. I also hope to receive the recognition I long for, and if that doesn’t happen, I’ll channel my inner Brandy and Monica, confidently asserting, “I’m sorry you’re confused. She’s mine.”
If you’re interested in exploring more about home insemination, check out this informative post on intracervical insemination. For those considering pregnancy options, Resolve.org provides excellent resources, and if you want to learn more about home insemination kits, visit Make a Mom.
In summary, my journey through motherhood has been filled with challenges and self-discovery. In the face of misunderstandings, I am learning to embrace my identity as Eliana’s mother, and I hope that others will recognize the love and dedication I bring to this role.