Memories of Motherhood
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Memories -- The Beginning free porn video
Memories- Beginnings
This is not so much a story but more a collection of memories of my
life. I write this for a variety of reasons. First, like everyone else,
I want to be remembered in the future. So, this will be my legacy.
Second, because I want to help others, it is my hope this will
encourage those of you who are facing challenges as you progress along
your journey into womanhood. Remember, the path to womanhood is not
always easy. And lastly, I hope to inspire those who are giving serious
consideration to taking this journey.
The Beginning
How to begin. I once was told the best way to begin is to start at the
beginning and when you come to the end, you just stop. With that in
mind, I will tell my story in that very manner. The first part of this
story was related to me by Mother during some of our mother/daughter
talks.
I was born to a loving mother and a father that was less than involved.
He never did want to be a father, just have the fun of being the man in
the house. Momma once told me the day she told my father she was
pregnant, he blew his top. He demanded to know how it could happen. Oh,
he knew all the facts of life, that is how babies happen but he thought
he had taken all the precautions to prevent a pregnancy. But as
everyone knows or should know, things can go wrong. And in my case, I
was one such accident. Momma would tell me how happy she was to be
pregnant. To her, that was the fulfillment of her dream life. That is,
it would have been if my father had been more accepting of the
situation.
From what she told me; she had a rather difficult pregnancy. There were
some concerns I might not survive. You have to understand, she had
experienced several miscarriages before me. I can only imagine how
concerned she was when her doctor put her on bed rest for the eight
weeks before her due date. She was allowed to get out of the house
twice a week for her doctor appointment and nothing else. Once it was
about 2 weeks before I was due, she was told she was close enough to
her due date to be able to get out of the house. That weekend, she
convinced my father to take her to a movie. Finally, she would get out
and be able to relax. Or at least that is what she thought.
It was during the movie momma started to feel uncomfortable. She spoke
of not being able to sit still and watch the movie. Turned out her
water broke but she did not know it. I had slid down so my head was
acting like a cork. It was that night she started having contractions.
I was ready to come out and meet the world. When she contacted the
doctor about the contractions, he told her to get to the hospital as
soon as she could. Of course, father drove but he was upset because he
had to miss a movie being shown on T.V. he wanted to watch. The time
was about 10:00 pm when momma got to the hospital. The nurses took her
to the birthing room and put a monitor to keep track of her
contractions. Just 12 hours later, I was born. My father was so eager
to get back home, he left just after my birth, only to return each day
about 6:00 pm. He would then stay for only an hour. This continued
until the day Momma and I went home.
From the day I got home, trouble between Mother and my father began.
She felt tired all the time because of the feedings that happened in
the middle of the night, the changing of my diapers, and the other
things a baby need. By the time I was 3 months old, Father started
coming home from work later each day. Things led Momma to suspect he
was having an affair with one of the women in his office. One day, he
just walked out the front door and never came back. As hard as momma
tried to find him, he just seemed to disappear. We never heard from him
ever again.
After that, it was just Momma and me. We were left alone to survive as
well as we could on our own. If he had not left, who can tell how my
life would have turned out. This event had a big influence on my life.
You have to understand, the only role model I had growing up was momma.
I wanted to be like Momma in every way possible. To me, she was the
perfect imagine of a woman. She was beautiful, loving, caring,
everything a mother was supposed to be.
About the time I turned 3, I started to feel like there was something
not quite about right me. Momma said I would ask for dolls and tea sets
when asked what I wanted for Christmas. When I was sat on "Santa's lap"
and asked what I wanted for Christmas, I would tell him I wanted three
things: new dress for Momma, a matching dress for me, and a doll.
When she would take me shopping, I would wonder off. She would find me
in the girls' area, looking at the dresses. When in a toy store, I
never went to things boys were typically given, baseballs or footballs.
guns, trucks, and so on. Instead, I would go to the dolls and stuffed
animals. When I had to leave without a doll of my own, I would cry and
beg for one.
The ladies at the day care where I was left while Momma went to work,
started to notice how I would spend time with the girls and not the
boys. Many times, I would be found in the "kitchen" area, cooking a
meal for my "family". The teachers would often remark to Momma about
how I treated the dolls that were there for the girls to play with. It
was almost like I was a mother to them.
It was at that day care that I first experienced being bullied by some
boys. I had been playing in the "kitchen area when three of the older
boys came up and started to say things like "look at the sissy." "Do
you like being a sissy?" Then, one grabbed me from behind, held my arms
back and put a hand over my mouth. I tried to get away but he was just
too strong. I did hear one say "do you think this little sissy is
wearing a panty like a girl?" The third one said "let's find out." They
forced me to the "Reading area" where they could hide behind some of
the book shelves.
With one holding me down, one held his hand over my mouth so I could
not call for help from the adult in the room. The third undid my pants
and pulled them down. "At least he is not wearing a panty like we think
he would have." They then put one of the bean bag seats on top of me
and sat on it. That was where I was when Momma came in looking for me.
Talk about being mad! She pulled all three of the boys off, lifted the
bean bag, and helped me get up. I had tears running down my face. While
I pulled my pants back up, she made the boys stand there and not say a
word as she told the teacher what she had seen and done.
In the office of the center's director, I heard Momma say that if
something was not done about this, she would bring legal action against
the center. Three days later, I found myself in the director's office
once again along with Momma, the two boys, their parents, and the
teacher that had been in the room at the time. The boys were made to
apologize to me for everything. Being the kind hearted person I was
even then, I accepted their apology. Momma was not so forgiving though.
She insisted the boys be made to do something more. It was decided they
would work in the kitchen area, washing dishes for a period of two
weeks. They were also not permitted to go outside during the same
period.
Special holidays, like Christmas and Easter were hard for me. Often, I
was part of the Children's program at church. There I had to stand with
the other kids, all dressed up in my navy-blue suit, wishing I was in a
pretty dress like the other girls.
One Christmas found me right behind one girl that I really remembered.
It was not so much her but what she wore that attracted me to her. She
wore a dark blue velvet dress with a white lace collar. She also had
white tights and shiny black shoes. Her hair was up in a high pony tail
with a red and green ribbon to hold it in place. I was so distracted by
her outfit (wishing I was wearing one JUST like it) that I did not pay
attention to the director and forgot to sing some of the words. I was
totally lost at times. When I got to join Momma, I mentioned that girl
to her, making the comment how pretty her dress was. The rest of the
service, I spent dreaming about being in that dress and those shoes, my
hair done up like hers. I even started to cry a little because I so
wanted to have such a pretty dress for myself. Some of the people
around us may have thought the service was getting to me. If they only
knew the truth.
When I was about 5, I started thinking about the skirt or dress Momma
was wearing to work that day. My mind kept thinking about what would it
feel like to wear it myself. Just after Momma would tuck me in to bed
each night, I often would dream about being Momma, wearing that skirt,
working in an office and then coming home to my little girl. Sometimes
I would dream about things Momma and I would do together, me as her
daughter. Things like shopping, getting our hair done. I would dream
about all the times we would share as a mother with her daughter. I do
remember how wonderful those dreams made me feel.
It was sometime in June when it happened. Momma was busy in the kitchen
and I was in my room. On a whim. I went to the bathroom where the
laundry hamper was and I did it. I took out the skirt momma had worn
the day before and stepped into it. Of course, I still had on my pants
so I did not get to feel the full effect but something inside me said
"this is what you should be wearing all the time. After that, I would
look for any chance to try on one of Momma's skirts. I just could not
help myself. At first, the length of time I was in a skirt was short.
As time went on, I found myself staying in the skirt of the day a
little bit longer each time.
After doing this for about three months, without really thinking about
it, I took off my pants while in the bathroom and once again stepped
into one of momma's skirts. I felt like I was a real girl. I felt so
wonderful even though I had to hold the skirt up with one hand because
it was so big on me. I wanted to feel like this more often so I started
looking for more chances to put on a skirt and pretend to be Momma. It
was such a strong need for me to do this I even started to dig deep
into the hamper to find a skirt, bundled it up under my shirt and sneak
it to my room. Once there, I would take off my pants and, once again,
step into my fantasy of being a girl.
There came a day when I was almost caught in Momma's skirt. The skirt
was an off white with a flower print. It had an elastic waist so there
was no zipper or buttons to worry with. I was so wrapped up in how I
felt, I did not hear Momma call to me when dinner was ready. Thankfully
I did hear her when she came to check on me. She was afraid something
had happened since I did not answer her immediately. I just barely
managed to get that skirt under my bed where I thought it could not be
seen and my pants back on before she knocked on the door. Talk about
being scared!!!!
After dinner, Momma and I were sitting on the couch and something made
me tell her how nice she always looked but how especially pretty she
was when she wore that skirt I had just tried on. She smiled and said
"why thank you. It is one of my favorites." The next thing to come out
of my mouth surprised both Momma and me. I asked her, "what does it
feel like to wear a skirt. How is wearing a skirt different from
pants?"
She asked me "why do yuo want to know?" I told her I was just
wondering. Then I asked her the most pressing question in my mind at
the time. "Why can't boys wear skirts too?" Remember, I was just 5 at
the time and starting to try to find why the world was the way it was.
Her answer to me was this; "girls have things very different from
things boys have. Skirts are for those things." Then she asked me "why
do you want to know?" Again, I told her I was just wondering. At that
time, I was afraid if I told her the real reason, she would not love
me. I did not understand the depth of a mother's love.
My obsession with wearing a skirt continued and grew even more pressing
to me. The more I thought about it, the more I was driven to find times
to be a girl like Momma. I knew I was a girl and had to be in a dress
like she wore. I could not think of being any other way. It became the
only thing I could think about. I even had dreams of being a girl in a
pretty dress. Some people might say it was an obsession with me. But
then, what does a 5-year-old really know? All I knew for sure was I
felt like there was something wrong with me.
Caught
It was early spring when Momma caught me in her skirt. At age 7, I
really thought I had it all figured out. All I had to do was take a
skirt from the laundry hamper to my room, put it on for a while and
return it before she did the laundry. A person, especially a 7-year-
old, cannot think of everything. One thing I had not counted on was the
fact that I would take the skirt from deep in the hamper. But when
Momma collected the laundry. The skirt I had taken was close to the top
of the pile. Apparently, that was one thing that started her thinking I
was doing something. She also started to notice other things. Little
things like my interest in girls' clothes. Or my asking about things
like being a girl. To me, it was more a part of my desire to be a girl.
I wanted to know things that typically only girls would care about. She
also started to notice things were not where she remembered leaving
them. Things like her hair brush or nail buffer.
Much later in life she told me, she suspected something and, after
talking to a friend about her suspicions, decided to set a sort of test
for me. She left a skirt (one I loved the best) and the pair of heels
she usually wore with it out one day. The skirt was left on the chair
in her room and the heels in front of that chair. She then told me she
was going to go next door for a while to help our neighbor with
something. I was going to be left alone for the two hours she thought
it would take. Imagine how my heart leaped for joy at the idea I would
have two hours to spend in a skirt. Add to that the idea I could also
try on the heels that Momma wore with that skirt! I was ecstatic about
the prospect.
The skirt she had left out was white with pink flowers all over. On her
it came to just below her knees. When I would put it on, it came to my
ankles. It also had an elastic waist so I did not have to worry about
where the buttons or zipper went. The shoes she had left out were an
off white and had a 3-inch stacked heel. Momma did not wear very
pointed heels. She would tell me she would worry about breaking one of
those or her ankle. No matter what she wore, she was always so pretty
and feminine.
I was sitting in my room and heard her call out she was leaving and for
me to not let anyone in while she was gone. As soon as I hear the door
close, I raced to her room and saw the skirt there on the back of the
chair. I could hardly believe my good fortune. Imagine, close to two
hours for me to be in a skirt. And then I noticed the shoes. I had
never thought of trying on heels since I always took any skirt from the
laundry. Before this, I had never had the courage to try on a pair of
Momma's shoes. But there they were, just begging for me to put them on.
As fast as I could, I took off my pants and stepped once again into my
dream of being a girl. Only this time, I was able to go farther and add
a pair of heels to my fantasy. Holding up the skirt with one hand (it
was way too big for me actually), I stepped into my first pair of
heels.
I will admit, at first, I was very wobbly for my first-time wearing
heels. Maybe I should have started with a pair of heels that were lower
but that is what I had available. And although the shoes were so big, I
kept stepping out of them, until I started to walk with more of a
sliding step, I felt INCREDIBLE! In my mind I was doing things just
like Momma would. I thought about going to work in an office like she
did. This was the best experience I had ever had up to that point. I
was so into my own world; I did not hear or notice the door slowly
opening. It was not until I hear a gasp and a little giggle that I
realized Momma was standing there watching me parading around her room
in her skirt and heels. I thought my life would end right there. I
could do nothing but start to cry. That was when I really learned of a
mother's love for her child. She tried to look upset but there was
something about her that said she was more amused than mad.
The only thing I could do at that point was to stand there, tears
running down my face as I promised to never ever do this again. With a
fear that she would not love me any longer, I shook and begged her to
please love me. She knelt down beside me, put her arms around me and
hugged me so hard I thought I was going to break into pieces. Then with
the strength of a super hero, she lifted me up and gently sat me on the
bed. The shoes and skirt had fallen off so I sat on her bed in just my
underwear. With a gentleness only a mother can express, she told me I
was her child and she would NEVER stop loving me. There maybe times
when she did not like what I did but her love for me would never stop.
She then said "I have a few questions for you and I want you to be
totally honest with me when you answer them. Do you agree to that?"
I said yes, that I would tell her the complete truth if I could.
"Very well. First question, how long have you been one of my skirts?"
"I put on one the first-time last summer. Before that I would just hold
one up against me to see what it would look like."
"How often have you put on a skirt?"
"At first it was just once in a while. At times when I knew you were in
the kitchen or busy with something. At first, I would put on one while
I was in the bathroom. But soon I was sneaking them to my room to put
on there. I would take the skirt to my room so I would have the chance
to take off my pants before I put it on."
"Have you ever worn a pair of my shoes?"
"No momma. I have never done that until tonight."
"What about my panties? Have you ever worn on of my panties?"
"No but I have wanted to many times."
"Last question, why have you worn my skirt?"
"Even though I look like a boy on the outside, inside, I feel like a
girl."
"What do you mean you feel like a girl?"
I want to wear dresses, play with dolls, and one day be a mommy; just
as pretty and loving as you are. I want to be like you."
Again, she hugged me so hard. Then she let me go and said "School will
be starting in about three weeks. We do need to get you some new school
clothes. How about if we include a couple of dresses in that list?
Something just for you to wear around the house. There are just a few
things you have to promise me. First, while we are shopping, you will
do everything I tell you to do. Second, you may not wear one of your
dresses outside of this house UNLESS I say you can. Do you agree to
those?" I was so surprised that she would suggest such a thing. I did
the only thing I could think of at the time; I threw my arms around her
neck and gave her the biggest hug I could. "I do agree and I promise to
be super good for you." She then told me it was bed time for me and to
go get ready.
I bad just gotten in bed when she came in to tuck me in and say good
night. "Momma I love you so much. Thank you for loving me."
"That is how a mother's love is. She will not stop loving her child no
matter what happens. Now go to sleep and sweet dreams."
Boy did I have sweet dreams that night! I can still remember dreaming
about going to school in a pretty dress. I felt like a princess and
everyone told me how pretty I was. I do not remember much more than the
way I felt; a girl and so lucky to be one.
The next week was so exciting for me, in some ways, it was almost like
waiting for Christmas morning. Every night I would go to sleep and
dream of being in a dress, playing with a doll, or my friends.
One night I dreamed about momma and me together in the kitchen cooking
dinner for my daddy. He was so handsome and very sweet. He told Momma
and me how nice we looked and hos much he liked the dinner we fixed for
him. After dinner, when Momma and I had finished cleaning up, we all
were in the living room watching some T.V. and my Daddy kept calling me
his princess. Suddenly the alarm went off and woke me up. I realized
having a loving daddy was just a dream and not real for me.
Finally, the big day came. I had trouble getting to sleep and when I
did, it was not a sound sleep. I kept waking up and looking at the
clock, so eager to start my special day. I was still dreaming when a
gentle touch shook me and a soft voice was telling me to get up. It was
Momma and she said we have a lot to do today so we needed to get
started as soon as we could. Quickly getting dressed in jeans, a shirt,
and sneakers, I rushed to the kitchen and started to eat the bowl of
cereal Momma had for me as fast as I could. She MADE me slow down so I
would not get sick from eating too fast.
Soon we were in the car and off to do our shopping at the local mall.
The first thing we did was go to the boy's area of a large department
store and buy me two new pairs of jeans and two new shirts. It was ok
but I got really excited when we went to the girl's area. First, we
looked at some underwear for me. After checking the sizing chart on the
back of a pack of panties, Momma told me what size she thought I would
wear. She then let me pick out two packs of six panties each. I picked
one pack that had "Barbie" as the theme. The other pack had different
shapes all over. Things like dots, hearts, flowers, and so on.". Momma
did comment on how cute all of my new panties were. Then she let me
pick out three-night gowns. There were so many pretty ones for girls my
age to pick from, it was hard. I finally selected a pink one with the
word "Princess" in sparkly letters on it, a light blue with a kitten on
the front, and a dark blue with stars on it.
The next thing we looked at were shorts, tops, skirts and dresses.
Looking thru the dresses. Momma would take one off the rack and hold it
up. Some she would hold up against me and others she just put back.
When she did put one back, I would ask her, what is wrong with that
one? She would say either it was the wrong color for me or the wrong
style (I did not know what that meant at the time). Or it was the wrong
size. Before this. I did not know why it took girls so long to just
shop but I was learning. Girls want to have things that are as close to
perfect as they can get.
It was while we were looking at dresses that three different women
approached Momma and started to say things like they thought Momma was
terrible. Two of them said it was wrong for Momma to be putting me in
dresses when it was clear I was a boy. "Boys are NOT to wear dresses at
any time" was her comment. Momma told the first two letting me pick out
some dresses was what would make me the happiest and they (that women)
should just mind their own business. The third woman was walking away
and I heard her say something about Momma going to Hell for what she
was doing.
With tears starting to come to my eyes, I asked Momma is she was really
going to Hell because she was buying me some dresses. Hugging me, Momma
said that woman was just being mean and I should not listen to her.
Then, with a big smile, Momma said we needed to go to the fitting room
so I could try on the four dresses we had picked out. As we were going
into the fitting room area, the sales lady on duty just sort of glared
at Momma. How dare her to take a boy into a place where girls were in
various stages of dress. Momma just simply guided me to an empty room.
As soon as the door was closed, she had me take off everything except
for my underpants. As soon as I was in just my underpants, she had me
hold up my arms so she could slip the first dress on me. It felt so
amazing to have that dress on. I mean, here I was getting a dress that
actually fit me, one that was made for a girl my age! As Momma buttoned
up the back, I could not believe the way it felt. I was a girl shopping
with her mother. Momma adjusted the dress a little, then had me turn
around so she could see it from all sides. She must have been happy
with it because when she had me take it off, she hung it and said,
"that's one. Now let's try on the others." Each time I put on one of
the dresses to try on, Momma would make a comment about it. Finally,
she had two dresses she was happy with. The others were returned to the
attendant to be returned to the rack.
This same process was repeated with some skirts, shorts, girly jeans,
and tops. "Girls sure go thru a lot when they go shopping for clothes."
So, we would not have to carry everything, Momma had the sales lady
take each thing to the checkout for us while we continued our
exploration of girly things for me.
I thought we were ready to leave when Momma remembered a couple of
things, she thought a young girl needs to wear a slip under her dress."
Then she started looking at socks for me. As she picked out six pairs
of knee socks (each a different color) she explained we had not gotten
then before because we did not know what color the dresses were going
to be. She also got me four pairs of socks that would not show when I
wore a pair of sneakers and three pairs of white tights to wear with a
dress for wear when I wanted to be extra dressy.
We made a second trip to the car to unload all the bags we had. Boy, a
girl sure needs a lot of things! I thought we were done but Momma took
me back into the mall. This time we went to a self-serve shoe store.
There I got a pair of shiny black dress shoes, a pair of the cutest
sandals. And a pair of girl's sneakers (white with pink trim). Now
Momma said we were done.
When we got home, I helped Momma carry all the bags from the car to my
room. Once there, the two of us started to open packages, take tags off
things, and put everything in its proper place. We moved emptied two
drawers so I would have room for my new things. The closet was a bit
full so we removed things that I had out grown. That way I had room for
my dresses and skirts.
Once it all was put away, Momma suggested we order a pizza for dinner.
Then she said while waiting for the pizza to be delivered. It would be
a good chance for me to change clothes. It was her suggestion I put on
one of my new shorts, top, and sneakers. Of course, that also meant
putting on one of my new panties and sport socks. By the time our
dinner arrived, I was a seven year old girl and GOD I was so happy!
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