DI/ Female- Not My Reflection

I always heard people talk about the look that a mother gives her child. The first time she held them, the first time she breast-feed them and looks down and says this one, this one is mine. To watch them grow up over the years beautiful and special and loving. And then you have all of their first. You have the first day of school and their first date, the first prom, their wedding day. Just so many memories that I know I should have had with my mother. My mother never looked at me like that. She never looked at me with love. In fact, she never looked at me at all. I didn't notice that I was different until about first grade. I mean I looked at my classmates and said well that little girl is brown and that little girl is white and that little girl is in the middle and then there was me. And when you're six years old trying to understand how you’re white mommy made you, (Laughs) it just didn't add up. If I wasn't white and I was in black then what was I? I knew that I was somewhere in the middle but I didn't understand why, or how. Looking back I probably should never have asked. I should've just let it go, not ask any questions and not wonder, "Where did I come from?" It wasn't until the moment that I asked that my mother (Beat) that she turned into a totally different person. It was almost as if she thought she could live her life, and raised me to never ask questions.