Mixed Motherhood: When Your Child Doesn't Look Like You
Mixed Motherhood: When Your Child Doesn't Look Like You
Ten little fingers. Ten little toes. But that’s where the similarities ended. And I was not prepared for what happened next.
This week our oldest turned 21! I know it sounds cliche, but I’m not sure when it happened. It seems like yesterday that we were teaching him to tie his shoes and ride a bike. But somehow we blinked and our baby boy has transformed into a pretty amazing young man.
As I reminisced over twenty-one years of celebrations, growth, struggles, heartaches, and milestones, my mind recalled how I’d dreamed of being his mom long before he was born.
A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes
What did you want to be when you grew up?
When I was a little girl, I dreamed of becoming two things - a wife and a mom. I never wished for a powerful career, high success, or wealth. I longed for a fairytale kind of love (which is kinda crazy because I’m not at all the mushy rom-com type) and a couple of little ones to call mine.
For some, this might seem more like a natural life progression than a goal. But for a little girl who grew up as the only child in a single-parent household, having a family of my own became my heart’s deepest desire.
Part one of my dream came true on Aug 5, 2000, when I married my hero. God knew what He was doing because my husband has been the man I didn’t even know I needed. He’s an incredible soul who loved me and saw me for who I was created to be long before I was capable of doing so myself. He makes me a better person. I could go on and on, but I’ll save that for another article.
A couple of years after we said “I do,” I told Tony we were pregnant. We were both elated! But for me, this was the second half of my dream falling into place right on time.
Be Prepared
Some women love being pregnant. I’m not one of those women. I had no idea that morning sickness could mean all day, or how out of control you feel about the physical and emotional changes your body goes through. Seriously. Even with all the books and classes, I was still so naive. In fact, I took my pre-pregnant jeans to wear home from the hospital. Needless to say, I had to call my husband to bring a pair of sweats. But I knew being a mom would be worth it.
Together Tony and I planned and prepared. I had my heart set on Noah and the Ark for the nursery theme. We painted and had a new plush green carpet installed. We spent hours at Babies R Us scanning additions to our registry. Evenings were spent assembling endless pieces of furniture. And we learned how to install a car seat, which if you’ve done so, you know deserves some serious credit!
I bought special laundry detergent to prewash every adorable tiny onesie, blanket, and burp cloth before neatly arranging them in drawers or hanging them on the world’s smallest hangers.
Since I was an only child AND the youngest cousin in the family, I had zero experience with babies outside of my Cabbage Patch and My Child dolls. But that didn’t dull my excitement. I was finally going to have a family of my own.
Part of My World
Because I’m extremely adversed to surprises, I tried to convince my doctor to schedule a C-section. The idea of giving birth scared me…a lot. And the thought that it could happen anytime, anywhere terrified me. But my doctor wasn’t persuaded by persistent requests making the final few weeks full of anxiety.
On the morning of March 19, 2002, I went for my final doctor’s appointment. It was our son’s due date and I was beyond ready to meet our little guy. Doc gave the green light. She sent Tony and me to the hospital where I would be given something called Pitocin to “get things started.”
A couple of hours later, I was in our private room, IVs dripping liquid into my vein. While family gathered in the waiting room, I began dreaming again. In a few short hours, our ultrasound picture would transform from a grainy black and white image to a baby we could hold in our arms!
The mix of emotions came like waves crashing on the shore.
Panic for what was about to happen.
Excitement for dreams coming true.
Anxiety for all the “mom things” I didn’t know.
Joy for answered prayers.
My Heart Wasn’t Ready
Just like the rest of his story, our son’s birth was about as textbook as you could imagine. Pitocin worked and soon, Tony and I finally got to meet our son!
Across the room, Tony stood next to a plastic cart where nurses wiped and poke our little guy. They snapped a tiny bracelet around his wrist and wrapped him in a scratchy hospital-grade blanket with pink and blue stripes.
Tony placed our precious little bundle in my arms and for the first time I laid eyes on our beautiful little boy.
He was perfect. Ten little fingers. Ten little toes. But that’s where the similarities ended. And I was not prepared for what happened next.
As my eyes grazed over the newest addition to our family, I couldn’t help but notice that he looked nothing like me. The realization shocked me. I’d learned about basic genetics in high school biology. I knew the difference between dominant and recessive traits. While I couldn’t remember all of the details, I did recall that dark features like skin, hair, and eyes - my features - were supposed to be dominant. So why didn’t my baby have any of those?
This couldn’t be right. I mean we were in a private room so I knew he had to be my baby. But I couldn’t comprehend why he didn’t look like me.
Why Did It Even Matter?
By this time, I’d been hiding the fact that I was mixed for approximately twelve years. I jumped through A LOT of hoops to pass as White. I wanted nothing to do with my Puerto Rican heritage or appearance.
So why did I want my son to have the same features I tried so desperately to hide?
Disappointment and guilt washed over me as I stared down at my dream come true, his tiny fingers wrapped tightly around mine. I’d dreamed and prayed and waited for this day since I was a little girl. Now it was here and I felt a confusing mix of love and loneliness all at the same time.
As excited family members filed into our room, I did what I did best. I buried my feelings, made sure my smile was in place, and celebrated while feeling shattered.
Watching & Waiting…
As our son grew, I watched his features develop. His hair was medium brown at best while mine was jet black. His oceanic blue-green eyes reflected his daddy’s, not my deep brown color. And while his body had a warm glow, it was still level shades lighter than mine after spending years inside or under long sleeves.
Over and over, people commented on how much he looked like my husband. Every time I smiled and agreed while feeling like salt was being poured into a gaping wound. I clung to the only speck of myself I could find in him, his curly hair.
It’s funny now, as I look at these pictures. I see my reflection in him too. He’s a beautiful combination of me and my husband, a blend that was always there, but I was too broken to see it clearly.
As we open ourselves up to healing,
we’re able to see our story from a different perspective.
I Can See Clearly Now
As I’ve continued to embrace the beauty of being mixed and welcome healing into my story, I’ve finally been able to make sense of the emotional turmoil I felt 21 years ago.
I’ve learned that at the time, I desperately longed for someone in my family to look like me. After growing up as the only member of the family who looked like me, I’d secretly longed to not be the “only one” anymore. But my brokenness was deeper than appearances. What I truly longed for was a sense of belonging.
I had subconsciously assumed my beautiful little boy would cure my deep loneliness. I held both God and my son up to an unspoken, unrealistic expectation. And when unmet, my disappointment became a tomb.
BUT GOD!
Thankfully, I don’t live in that tomb anymore. And although I spent many years there, it didn’t affect the relationship between my son and me.
Along the way, God did what he promised…he did more than I could ask or think! The older he gets, the more I see myself reflected in my boy. Some are physical. He still has my hair texture, which like me, he’s had to learn to style. It’s also gotten a lot darker as he’s matured. So has his skin tone.
I see myself in other ways too. The way he thoughtfully considers all sides before making decisions. His deep compassion and empathy. His passion to fiercely follow Jesus. And mostly, his love of words! He’s a verbal processor like his momma. He’s never kept to a single word count and loves thought-provoking conversations.
God didn’t ignore my dream. In fact, He fulfilled another one I didn’t even know I had. I DO have someone who truly gets me - my handsome, intelligent, wickedly witty, musically talented Dream Come True.
Friend, has parenthood dealt you some emotional surprises too?
- Maybe you’re in an interracial relationship parenting mixed kids while you and your partner are not.
- Maybe you’re a transracial adoption mom, stepmom, or foster mom of kids who look nothing like you. While you love them unconditionally, if you’re honest, you struggle to connect with them because their experiences are very different from yours.
- Maybe you’re a mixed or biracial mom like me and you’re struggling to embrace your own mixed heritage which is making it hard to connect with your child(ren).
- Maybe it’s not about being interracial or mixed. It just you’re kids looks more like your spouse than you and it’s hard for you at times.
I get it. I’ve been there. Let me encourage you.
Your feelings are real and they are valid.
Don’t let shame or guilt keep you from inviting God into your own healing journey. He is there, without judgment, arms wide to welcome you.
And I’m here too. You don’t have to journey alone. Here you have community and support as you allow God to meet you where you are.
I’m cheering for you!
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A Little Something Extra…
Each week, I like to share a little something extra, something I’ve found fun or helpful. It might be a post, book, podcast, tv show, movie, song, Bible verse…or something else I think you’ll enjoy.
Brandon & Benjamin
This week, I’m sharing a couple of my favorite worship artists - Brandon Lake & Benjamin Williams Hastings. We started our son’s birthday weekend off at their concert and it did not disappoint!
We spent over two hours praising, worshiping, and praying. It was a powerful time. Ever since I’ve been listening to their albums on repeat. Since I can’t decide on a favorite song or album, I listen to their Essentials.
Do you have a favorite worship artist or go-to song?
Share it in the comments so we can add it to our playlist!
Loved hearing more of your family story here. I resonate with this as a mixed mama. Each one of my girls have a different unique look - a blend of me and their daddy in heaven! And I love when people say they look like their adoptive daddy Shawn. God’s cray design! 🥰🫶🏾🤎💗