The plan was to be married and parenting my child with my spouse in our own home. Instead, I was in my late teens, single, and in the back room of my parent’s Mattapan home. [Stares into the camera lens while rocking my baby] They had just finished moving me into my dorm room, two months before finding out about their future grandchild. Just when my parents were starting to learn to let go, I hit the gas pedal and sped up the process. Like any typical Christian Haitian household, my parents were not pleased to know their baby was having a baby. But boy did they sure love that baby -boy to be exact.
I was the baby girl. Last of 4, 3 years younger than the one that came before me. My mother chalked it up to me being young & dumb and took it upon herself to govern everything I did concerning my firstborn. To her, there was no way an 18-year-old with a newborn could know what she was doing, let alone know what was best for him. Parenting while being parented was a tug of war, 'I Declare War', World War I, II, & possibly III. I said, “breastfeed.” They said, “formula.” I said, “I’ll call his doctor.” They said, “I know best! I raised you, didn’t I?!” It was a whirlwind of emotions: frustration and relief, stressed one minute and comforting the next, being pushed off the deep end, and being held on to so tight so I wouldn’t fall in.
Adjusting to parenthood was not an easy feat. I had to learn to make decisions for two. Someone depended on me while I was still depending on others. I had to make decisions I believed were best for me and my son knowing that the ones I depended on may not always agree. (At first, they didn’t). If you know the Haitian saying, “De granmoun pa ka abite nan menm kay” (Translation: “Two adults cannot live in the same house”), it’s true. Well, you can but there will be a ton of friction, and for it to work, one must be willing to yield. Try telling your Mama she needs to stand down in her own home. HA!
But that is exactly what we both learned to do.
Jessica & firstborn baby boy
Okay, bear in mind that when I became a parent, I was also 18, living with my parents, and Haitian. My dad quietly grieved and worked through the deep hurt he was feeling. He would come to me with words of encouragement, and every discussion, even if unrelated, would somehow make its way to education being my north star and his wish that I would graduate college. My mother, on the other hand…Whew! I love my mama now, but back then our relationship was bitter and sour. She knew how to cut deep with her words and then finish me off like a Mortal Kombat fatality. Add to that Grandma's witty, unfiltered, petty remarks at every turn - I had no breaks since she lived with us. I totally get how my parents and Grandma might have felt dishonored and likely fooled when I blindsided them with “I’m pregnant,” and they had no knowledge of me even dating. The response was them doubling down on their default parenting styles - nurturing dad, ruthless mom, and heckling Grandma, yet one thing was for certain: They all loved their (great) grandbaby.
Parenting while being parented meant my role could be superseded at any point. I could make decisions that they just didn’t have the cultural expertise for, like signing early intervention forms, but I couldn’t decide which groceries to use my W.I.C. on, or how his hair should look. I remember coming home from classes one day to find my growing toddler’s full fro in a low cut because “boys don’t need hair.” It was rough, but for every hard part, there were 101 benefits like the postnatal herb baths, daily nutrient-rich food, quality child care, warm housing, the opportunity to finish college, and laughter (even if I was the butt of the joke) - an overall safety net.
Joane & firstborn baby boy
Less than a mile apart, we lived separate lives in the unique contexts of our households, but would share similar experiences and learn many of the same lessons about parenting while being parented.
We learned love was more than feelings and words because while there was clear disapproval for how and when we became mothers, our parents still chose to live out a commitment to love us the best they knew how. As parents now, it’s remarkable to reflect on our own parents’ ability to be so deeply upset and still love at the same time. Their actions set an example for how to love our own children even while being extremely frustrated or hurt.
We learned the importance of listening to understand, instead of listening to respond or be understood. It was important to yield and focus less on our mission of trying to get them to see things our way. At the end of the day, what reigned true is that even though they hated our actions, they loved us and our children. Our multi-generational households proved to be the village that it takes to raise a child.
From those experiences, wisdom was gained by remaining in the pressure-cooker; it was truly hard lessons learned. We are eternally grateful for the depth of understanding we may not have gained otherwise.
““Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up.” ”