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For whatever heartache and feelings of abandonment I experienced, I know her choices were more difficult, I know she had to endure the loneliness of immigration, the mixed feelings of leaving her children behind, having to navigate unfamiliar territory and learning new sets of values.
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Knowing what I know now as a mom and being a different kind of immigrant mother, I want to honor my immigrant mother’s sacrifice and courage to leave her children behind in search of a better life. A journey that took her through amazing experiences and as many painful ones.Ī Tribute To My Immigrant Mother On Mother’s Day It was time to start again in a foreign country, in a different language. That’s when she had to make the decision again, but this time becoming an immigrant mother by moving to Aruba in 1992. When my brother turned 2 years old she couldn’t take it anymore and asked a friend about leaving the Dominican Republic to any country that could have jobs and a better way of life for her and eventually for us. During my brother’s first few years she sold boiled beans and sweet beans, and at the time walked miles to her mother’s house to borrow money to buy food, she endured a lot. My mom has always been a hard worker, a woman determined to better her circumstances and doing the best she can. Her financial situation hadn’t improved, she was living in poverty, apart from her two daughters and with a newborn baby in her arms. Nine years after living on her own, my mom had found a new partner and gave birth to my younger brother. The very difficult decision to leave us with my father and paternal grandmother was the best she could do for us at the time. When she decided to leave, she had to start a life from nothing, and learn to be an adult by herself. In many ways, she was alone in this new life as a wife and mother. Mami became a mom at 18 and went to live with my father and my paternal grandmother a woman who taught her a lot and was a mother figure to her, but who had unconditional love and support for her own son. Now as a mother myself, and knowing the story of many immigrant mothers and my own experience as an immigrant mother myself, I’m able to see what I didn’t see back then. I grew up wondering why and at times feeling unloved by her, and resenting her absence. Leaving my older sister and me behind, even if just to live in a different part of Santo Domingo was a decision that, as her child, I didn’t approve of and didn’t understand.
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Although she didn’t leave the Dominican Republic at that time, it was the first degree of separation from her children, years before she became an immigrant mother and when she was still young and inexperienced to understand what that meant for her in the future. I don’t have any real memory of my mom living with me as a child since she moved from home months before my 4th birthday.
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