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I see you. . . Inside of my heart in that exact moment I realized I was bringing you life. Little did I know how important taking care of you was in the beginning. Because you ended up saving mine.

I see you. . . As my new born baby at feeding times. How it always took the power of 2 to do the job of 1. Bubba, always at our side ready to help. Shaking his whole body so the toy, tightly held in his small hands, would make enough noise to catch your attention. So you’d stop crying long enough for mama to burp you.

I see you. . . Awake, alert, and aware at all times, night or day. I swear you hardly slept or so it seemed. Content and happy, smiling and gurgling at the silly things Bubba, did.

I see you. . . Climbing over the side of your crib, making your escape. Falling to the floor making a loud thump. And you never cried like you didn’t just fall from your bed.

I see you. . . Feet hitting the floor taking off running full speed to go play. No. Running to the bathroom because once again, you waited till the last second and peed yourself.

I see you. . . Following Bubba everywhere he went. Stuck to his side and always on the back of his heels.

I see you. . . Catching on and learning everything so fast. Together all the time everywhere we went it was just us 3. You were soon dubbed, ‘Sissy’, by Bubba.

I see you. . . Starting school and catching the school bus in front of the house. You were so tiny compared to that big ol’ bus. You couldn’t ever wait till the next day knowing you were going to school. Hold on, you couldn’t wait to go anywhere as long as you knew you were going.

I see you. . . In my head when I was locked away not being a part of your life. During the years when you needed me the most. Knowing I’d give my life to protect you always.

I see you. . . Jumping up and out from your hiding spot surprised me when visiting me in jail. Seeing how beautifully dressed you were in your pretty new church dress and your white lacy socks. The visit was supposed to be a surprise. But I felt you in my soul and knew you were close by the night before when I was talking with Bubba on the phone. Asking if he’d spoken to you or knew you were in town. He didn’t tell me even when I told him I felt you near. He’s always kept your secrets. Real sneaky together were the 2 of you.

I see you. . . With your heart and soul shattered, not being able to allow yourself to trust anyone. Wanting me more than anything else. There are NO words I can use to describe to you the enormous amount of guilt I’ll carry with me the rest of my life. How I would let you down repeatedly, breaking every promise I made along the way.

I see you. . . Wrapping your arms around my neck with your feet coming off the ground. Having your hold on me getting tighter with every squeeze. And how I never wanted that moment to end.

I see you. . . Reassuring me of your complete forgiveness for not being there when you needed and wanted me the most. Those times you were so scared you couldn’t even tell your dad what was happening in his absence.

I see you. . . Already grown thinking about how funny it was to you when you’d jokingly tell me you were pregnant every other day. All but setting me up for a heart attack knowing at the time you weren’t ready to be a mother just yet.

I see you. . . With your best friend all the time helping her raise her child. One thing for sure was that you had plenty of experience.

I see you. . . Showing up at my work with your dad and him telling me you needed to talk to me. After I brought out his food and handed you your drink, you guys became so quiet. Only for you to speak up asking if you could come by and do your laundry.

I see you. . . Looking over at your dad smiling, not picking up on the unspoken words between you two. After telling you both I needed to get back in to work I started walking back to the side entrance of the store. As I reach to grab the door handle I hear your dad say yet again, ‘she just needs to talk to you when you get home’.

I see you. . . With a devilish grin on your face standing at the side of your dad’s truck. Looking to your dad as he lifts his shoulders in a shrug. As if he were saying, ‘I don’t know’.

I see me. . . Having stopped dead in my tracks with my hand hovering above the door handle. I turned around and pointed my finger at you while telling you that, ‘you’d better not be pregnant’.

I see me. . . Standing there saying nothing looking back and forth between the two of you. Then your dad shrugged his shoulders again. Except this time it was like he was saying, ‘it is what it is’.

I see me. . . Bending over placing my hands on my knees after I walked back inside. It felt like I was short of breath and was about to have a panic attack. Walking behind the counter to backline, I went right back out the back door.

I see me. . . Sliding down the concrete wall while pulling out my cell phone to call Greg. Being he’s the only one who can calm me down.

I see me. . . Breaking down in tears telling him what should have been this wonderful thing. Though I was scared for you and all the insane emotions a pregnancy will put you through.

I see me. . . So scared for your mental health that I literally made myself physically sick. So bad it felt like I was going through withdrawals all over again. Never was I worried about whether or not you’d be a good momma or taking care of your baby. That was and has been a given way before those 7 positive pregnancy tests.

I see you. . . Doing the damn thing by staying in school, determined to graduate. Having always been too mature and wise for your age.

I see you. . . During our facetime call telling me about your cravings and how bad you really wanted the weird combinations. You made sure to let me in from the very beginning.

I see you. . . Sitting front and center at your baby shower with your big beautiful belly. Glowing with so much pride that it radiated through the energy you put out.

I see me. . . Realizing how happy you truly are even though you knew it was only gonna be you and Lukah. It was also the same exact day I knew you’d be perfectly fine. After all, you’re a strong independent young woman. I knew you always would be. Realizing also how strong the bond between the two of us had grown and how nothing could ever change that no matter what the world threw at either of us.

I see you. . . In your hospital room having contractions, going through so much pain. While you were crying and telling mom you wished he would hurry up and come out of your body. But only because you knew the pain would stop.

I see you. . . Putting that nurse in check after telling you that you needed to be more quiet because the labor pains you were experiencing were only a mental thing.

I see me. . . Smiling at how you put her in her place. Taking the words right from momma’s mouth. And soon after you caused me to flinch from where you grabbed my arm and bit down on my hand that was entwined with yours.

I see you. . . Baring down and pushing with all your might to bring Lukah out into the light.

I see Lukah. . . Being pulled the rest of the way out and then placed on your belly so you can get your first look at your precious baby boy who you’ve been desperately wanting to meet.

I see you. . . Unleash your joy filled heart with only happy tears falling from your eyes. All that hard work to bring him into this world.

I see you. . . After having moved to another state and in with your fiance being the woman of your very own household.

I see you. . . During the most recent facetime, walk into your bedroom flopping back on to your bed while continuing to keep eye contact with me. Right in that moment Momma saw the mother, fiance, and BabyGirl that has grown into adulthood way too fast.

I see me. . . Writing this especially for you so that you really know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I’m so proud of you for everything you’ve accomplished.

I see me. . . Seeing you and how beautiful you are inside and out. Letting you know none of your boys could do without.

Momma <3’s you, Cedes

About Post Author


I'd rather read a good book, VS watching the movie made from it on TV. Most thoughts on that are 'why'. Well, my answer for that is that there aren't any limitations to your imagination. Therefore, when I'm reading an action packed thriller that I can't put down or stop turning the pages of is because the details are written by the author describing the scene/situation with such clarity, that I think it's far better than what anyone can visibly see on TV. That being my opinion only, I'm sure millions and billions of avid readers out there agree with me 100% on that reason alone. I've always had an active imagination growing up. I'd use the almost empty cans of shaving cream my dad would give me, as the whipped cream on top of the mud pies I made.Of course dad got the first one. After all, he did give me the topping. I was very versatile also. I was the biggest tom boy of a little girl you'd ever see one day. To dividing Barbie clothes between me and my older sister (when I was lucky enough to get her to play with me). I had to play by her rules though. Perks of being the older sibling I guess. I loved playing with the Hot Wheel's cars in the dirt. Making race tracks and underground tunnels I'd dig out for them. Sometimes my dad would be outside with me showing me all kinds of different things I could pretend to do when playing cars. I have one day in particular that stands out among the rest. It was when I learned to do the underground tunnels for the cars to go through. He showed me by taking a simple stick off the ground and using it like a tool to push the dirt out from one side to the other. It wasn't a tunnel without keeping the top part intact. I acted like there was a cave-in, and then accidents, crashing the cars together. No one ever got hurt in my imagination though, just the cars got hurt. Growing up with a sister 6-years older than me taught me lots of things, both good and bad. If I kept her secrets, she kept mine. And the only reason I even had any secrets was because she allowed me to. I got to sneak and smoke in her bedroom at night after our parents went to bed. I had to be very quiet because I got caught most of the time. But I was always caught by our momma. And then all she made me do was get back in bed. I came from a poor family so anything name brand wasn't known to me for a long time. I was bullied and made fun of all throughout my school years. It doesn't matter which year you pick. From the 1st grade, all the way through high school. I know that's terrible to have to admit, but I think it'd be even worse having to admit to being the bully. I swore to myself I'd never treat anyone the way those kids treated me and made me feel. It bothered me so bad I'd dream about standing up for, and actually fighting over other kids getting bullied. I woke up all of a sudden one morning after punching the lights out of a bully in my dream. When I really punched the headboard and made my knuckles bleed. Come on! When a child is taking on the burden of other bullied kids, you know that's a heavy burden to bear. It was also very hard on me. I never talked about it to my parents though. Yeah, they knew. But back then no one really knew what to do about that problem like they do now. Or, well, think they do. I've been in counseling since starting school. I can't remember a day going by without me seeing the school guidance counselor. Shout out to Mrs. Reeves though, at Lone Oak High School. She made the biggest impression on me as far as wanting to help other kids like me. The bullies were actually the kids who came from well-to-do families. Kids who never knew what it was like to experience the disappointment of being told 'No'. Or that there wasn't enough money to buy what they wanted. Kids that figured there wasn't anything better to do except make fun of the less fortunate to get them through their day or to have a conversation piece. The anger and hatred that built up inside of me was, and still is undescribable. The thoughts they caused me to have. Picturing the tables being turned and the bad things said back to them, bad things being done back to them. It only made me feel better on the inside. I've been asked by numerous doctors in my life if I'm suicidal. I've answered no, being completely honest each time. But never have they asked if I've felt homicidal! I know, scary right? The outcome of such thoughts is what triggered the start of mass school shootings. Coming into adulthood was strange territory for me as well, and actually caused me a lot of uncomfortable times, knowing things I knew I could now do but never felt comfortable ever talking about. Even with my sister, the person I was closest to, I couldn't open up and freely talk about anything of the sexual nature. I guess because bad things have happened to me on more than one occasion when I was still very much an innocent child. With me hiding such horrid things from my parents, along with everyone else, I felt I couldn't talk about the good kind of sex either. Man did that ever set me back, keeping me immature of certain things I should've known already but didn't. Because in my mind I was still that child who was hurt in a bad way. They were called 'Red Touches' back then. What we were taught to call them in school anyways. Then just when I was becoming independent and living on my own, learning to stand up for myself in a way that would make my sister proud of me, I lost her. That caused me to go into a deep depression I didn't come out of for many years afterwards. March 29, 2003 changed my life forever. I lost my 2-year old nephew that night to a raging house fire. My sister passed 17 days later in the burn unit in Vanderbilt, Tennessee. However, if you've read 'My Story', a post on my blog. Then you'll know that in order for me to know what I now know, and to be the person that I now am, all of the bad shit had to happen first or else I wouldn't have caught and held onto the message so vital for me to have acquired in my life. Helping the less fortunate. Being someone's somebody they can depend on being there when they need them the most. After receiving confirmation that my nephew didn't suffer, not for one second in that house fire... Was I able to let that burden go, only to let in that oxygen, that life support I desperately needed to save myself from a lifetime of misery. Even though I know my sister, Jennifer, isn't physically here to cheer and root me on. I know without a shadow of a doubt, her and Lil Jesse (my nephew) are both doing so from Heaven today, and everyday that follows. If you're suffering from addiction of any kind and you want or need someone to talk to I'm a damn good listener! My contact information is listed on my contact page. Please call, reach out for support. You're not alone no matter what negative thoughts are telling you that you are. God is always there for you as well. If you'd like to learn more about Jesus and how He died to save us, don't hesitate to ask. I'll share what I know is all good, and positive about God. Whom I choose to call my higher power. If you don't believe in God, then the subject will not be pushed. EVER! If you're battling mental health issues and feel alone like no one knows what you feel like. Then I'm here to tell you there's billions of people out there that will share with you that they too, feel just like you do. Hit me up on Facebook, Instagram, or Twitter. All of my accounts should be connected to my website. If you're waiting on me to respond and it's been a while since you tried getting in touch with me, then by all means be more persistent and bug the shit out of me. Make me see your messages. I will eventually and I'll always reply when I can. This is the best I think I've written in this 'about me' section. It's the most I've opened up publicly I know that. I'm open minded, I keep it 100 all of the time, even if it's something I don't like myself, or for others, I still have to keep it 100 with myself in order for me to keep it that way with everyone else. I hope this told everyone a little bit about me, maybe more than I originally intended. But it's all accurate and up to date with where I'm at in my life right now. Thank you all and God Bless
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6 thoughts on “I See You. . .

    1. Thank you. My daughter challenged me in writing a poem to make her cry. I’ve never really made her have any emotional responses to the point she cried. But this. . . This one got her in the heart causing her to shed a few tears.

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