- Posted April 11, 2014 by
This iReport is part of an assignment:
In praise of “other mothers”
I have a Janet
"Mom" was to me, for a very long time, a word I'd go to any bounds not to say. I lived with "Mom" for 14 years of my life. Mom was extremely abusive and had a hard drug addiction that made my childhood something I don't care much to reflect on. I was 14 when the State finally took me from her and sent me to live with my father, a man she had hid from me my entire life, and his wife Janet. I won't say moving in with them became some magical fantasy and suddenly everything was perfect, it was in fact quite the opposite. We butted heads, we argued, I got into legal trouble, and found myself spending the last couple years of my adolescents in group homes. It was sticking through all that after taking me in; dealing with my teen angst and troubled young adulthood, to still stay in my life, spend hours on the phone with me through each new heartbreak or disappointment, walking me through raising my own children, and still do this day never hesitating to take my calls when I need advice at age 26, still as always referring to me as her daughter when she could have easily turned away when I made life rough, that's what a real mother is. She didn't give up on me, she has never treated me as anything less than her own flesh and blood, and she is the most amazing grandmother that has ever been! Janet has been the mother I never had, and she never had to be.