I wrote this poem in June of 2022 inspired by my youngest son.
At Tae Kwon Do class my son kicks
with a determined look on his face
It’s strength and resilience inherited from me
and his ancestors
It’s a competitive spirit passed down
generation after generation
from people that had to fight to compete
to survive and it fill me with excitement and pride
because even at ten my son shows traits
from his ancestral warriors
Happy Asian American and Pacific Islander Month! I wrote this poem inspired by my favorite Asian American, my oldest son.
I was young and so stupid
a kid having another kid
but with you I grew up
and learned the meaning of love
you’re everything a mother could want
a wonderful and amazing son
and while I’ll feel some grief
the day you’ll your spread wings
I’ll feel a special kind of pride
as I watch you shine your golden light
This was my response to prompt #7:Your Favorite Recipe
4 cups of milk, two sticks of cinnamon
2 chocolate bars from Cuzco,
a unhealthy and gluttonous amount of sugar
I“ll bring it all to a boil with all the love in my heart
to make Peruvian hot chocolate for my boys
I wrote this about my oldest son after a very proud mom moment. I thought about everything he went through and processed it through this poem.
I didn’t think this day
Would come so soon
I wasn’t prepared for the
Emotions I would feel
“You were doomed to
Be another “statistic”
They said
And autism on top of that!
Good luck
Becoming a productive
Member of society
They said
“No way, will you succeed
brown autistic boy,
Son of a teenage mom”
They said
Yet here you are –
Proving the naysayers wrong
Here is where you belong
Not yet graduated from
High school but starting
Your first college classes
Tonight
Here is where you belong
Despite the obstacles,
The haters, society
Trying to fuck you over
Here is where you belong
-on the start of a journey to success
And here I am
Beaming with pride
And love for you
My beautiful brown boy
Defying everything and
Everyone that ever
Stood in your way.
I wrote this poem in 2004 about my oldest son. Even though, I was 17 when I had him, I always tried to be the best mother for him. I worked to support him since I was 18, he was one of my biggest motivations for going to college, and even though I was extremely insecure as a young mom, I learned to advocate and fight for him to get the services and therapies he needed when he was diagnosed with autism.
You’re a wonderful mistake
I never want to unmake
I was young and stupid
a kid having another kid
but with you I finally grew up
and learned the meaning of love
You are everything a mother could want
Such an admirable and fine son
you are my pride and joy
you will always be my little boy
And I will dread the day
When you have to go away
But I take relief in knowing
You’ll know how to spread your wings
And you will always remember
who you once were
A wonderful mistake
Your mom never wanted to unmake
Perhaps a creation of lust
but one who never lacked love
Day 25 of doing a 31-day poetry prompt challenge. Today’s prompt is “Peaceful chaos”
I wrote this poem in late 2005 thinking back on how I felt about my second pregnancy when I found out. It wasn’t an ideal situation at all because I was still in college and my relationship with my husband was on the rocks.
This can’t be
happening to me!
but rarely does it ever lie,
that second pink line
Just when I was on right track
Again I am burdened for lying on my back
What will I do?
Who will I turn to?
How do I tell them?
Once again I am their biggest disappointment
To just sit here and cry
is just a waste of precious time
I have no choice
I have to get away from this awful noise
This will become my personal hell
Because of another persuasive male
April means Autism Awareness and Acceptance month and I felt compelled to write about a realization I recently had about my oldest son, D who has autism. My realization was that he’s not a hero, he’s a person. I want to say that first and foremost, I got permission from him to write this post about him because at some point in the journey, it became his story to tell. I also got his permission because I’m trying to be better about boundaries when it comes to writing about the people in my life. I could actually write more about boundaries but that’s another blog post.
My oldest son was diagnosed at the age of 5 and I was 22. I’ve written about him in a previous post about how he was my hero because of all of the obstacles he’s conquered and how proud I am of him because of that. Here’s that blogpost:
My Amazing Hero
One thing that I didn’t address in that post was how receiving this diagnosis meant me receiving a new identity, a mom with a child on the autism spectrum. Or we are often called autism warrior moms or whatever is trendy at the time. From the age of 22, this identity was deeply ingrained within me. I’ve lost count of how many articles or books I’ve read about autism. I’ve lost count of how many parent teacher conferences or IEP meetings I’ve attended having to fight or advocate for services for my son. I’ve lost count of how many therapists or counselors my son has had. You get my point. Being a mom to a child with autism is not easy. It’s hard, really hard. I’ve mentioned before how my child started to flourish between 3rd and 4th grade and he went on to be successful in his academic career throughout high school. Throughout all of this, I didn’t realize it but I put my child on a pedestal. I don’t know if it was the BPD or me being super excited about my son’s progress. Don’t get me wrong, it was a good and healthy thing to encourage my son and support him; but at some point idealizing him put an unhealthy amount of pressure that started to feel like a burden. I won’t say what happened next in this story but I will say that he’s now thriving as a regular 23 year old. I realized this week that at some point I stopped being an autism warrior mom. I think that I understood this sometime in 2016 after my son turned 18 but really accepted it this week. It’s weird when I used to start talking about myself, being a autism warrior mom would be one of the first things I would share and now I don’t feel the need to. When someone who knows me and my son mentions he’s quiet, I’m just like “well he’s just shy”. Like I first mentioned in this post; it’s just no longer my story to share. When I talk about my son, I just say “ he’s D, pretty awesome most of the time but kind of annoying at times.” I’ve also let go of this idealization of him I had. I still admire him and love him for who he is but he’s not a hero; he’s a person.
He’s a person with his own set of issues and insecurities. He’s a person with goals and plans for the future. And talking to him, he wants to be seen that way. I also want to mention that I’m not speaking for all the moms with children with autism, I’m speaking just for myself. Getting here has been difficult but it’s been an important part of the process of me becoming not just a better mother, but a better person as well.
I wrote this in 2002 about my first son’s bio dad. It kind of sucks that this situation happened BUT at least I got some salty poetry out of it. Lol.
Hey Mr.Donor man
How does it feel to have your son
Learn you never wanted to come
That you talked big shit
and never meant any of it
That no matter how hard I tried for him
you never wanted to be a daddy to him
That you were so fucking lame
You couldn’t even give him your last name
That to you, his mom
was just good fun
That you’re a fucking coward
you never dared to be his father
Don’t worry though
He’ll always have my love
And without you, he’ll be just fine
One day I’ll meet a man who is kind
Who will love him and I
and will want us in his life
Who’ll be glad to take the place of
The man who couldn’t give us love
Who will come to his defense
when things get tense
Who will stick around
And won’t bring him down
Who will finally be
The dad you never wanted to be
I wrote this poem about my oldest son’s bio dad in February of 2002. A lot of residual resentment I had towards him was because he wouldn’t step up. My empathy button for him was really broken for him and in this case maybe it needed to be.
Three years too late
You’ve decided to embrace your fate
You’ve decided to recognize your mistake
And fill my ears with apologies
For not accepting mine and his existence
So now you feel like playing dad
And expect me to forgive and forget
about the misery you left us in
The years of being a fucking deadbeat to him
Please do what you do best
Walk away and put this situation to rest
For he doesn’t need
A false wannabe daddy
Who will cause him harm
in the long run
I wrote this in February 2002 about my first baby daddy. He had started to be in contact with when he got the child support order. I obviously had a lot of residual resentment and trauma and blamed him for losing part of adolescence.
She was the girl you left behind
with nothing but a baby
and a desperate hope to keep her alive
She was innocent, naive, and untouched
until the night she fell into your sexy scent,
your empowering embrace, and a world full of promises
She trusted, believed, and dreamed
Thanks to your unexpected departure
that naive girl you left behind
blossomed into a woman of depth, strength and wisdom
beyond her 21 years
She will lust but she can’t ever love
She wants to trust but finds herself full of doubt
She wishes to fill herself with guilt and morals
but has learned to have no scruples
So don’t try to come back and expect her
to believe in your crocodile tears
or your most insincere apologies
that girl you left behind
Grew up into a woman
at a surreal speed thanks to you
I wrote this in 1998 about my pregnancy. I wrote this after telling my traditional and catholic parents I was pregnant. I was six months along and went into a deep depression afterwards that lasted maybe a year after the birth of my first child. Yes, I was a teen mom with post partum depression and there wasn’t much anyone could do at the time. I still got up to go to school and took care of my child. My life was no longer just about me, I was responsible for another life. Maybe that’s when I learned to mask so well. I learned to show up no matter what. On the upside, I had really supportive parents who were for me when they could have abandoned me. On the downside, some of my closest friends did. Sometimes I wonder if going through something this traumatic did stunted my maturity in some areas.
No more fun
No more just “lying in the sun”
Dirty diapers and Barney
Will sum up the next few years for me
No more hanging out with friends
No more having tons of boyfriends
Strollers and snotty noses
Will be how my adolescence closes
Life on the BPD 