Taylor’s Time

Back with our resident Guest Author, Taylor Anne Vigil, and today she has an intensely personal post for you.

This is one of the qualities I appreciate about her. She’s willing to not only take risks with her writing, speaking out about the Saudi abuses of Raif Badawi, but she’s willing to put herself out there for the world to see.

I hope you enjoy this glimpse into her heart.

I have that “Mama” urge again. I first felt the urge when I was 14 years old, after volunteering for my school’s after-school program. We provided care for the little ones when their parents worked late into the day. As soon as I saw the children playing, squealing with laughter and smiling, I knew right then and there I wanted to be a mother. I also knew that age 14 was not the time to act on that urge.

As the child of a teen mother, I saw firsthand how challenging it was for my own mother to raise me at such a young and vulnerable age. Though she did her best to give me the easiest life possible, it was still a hard one. I won’t, can’t, say we regret our life now. On the contrary, we have a wonderful life, a beautiful life, but getting here wasn’t easy.

And so I waited. Here I am, 10 years later, still waiting. I wait more for my child’s sake than my own. I can’t bear the thought of my son or daughter suffering for my mistakes, can’t bear the thought of them suffering as I did. I didn’t have an unhappy childhood, not at all. No matter where I was, I was surrounded by family, aunts and uncles, cousins and grandparents. At the same time, some of the most difficult times of my life were experienced as a child. Money was tight and my mother struggled to find herself. As a result, we moved from city to city, from school to school, from house to house, more frequently than I would’ve liked. I lost family and friends during those moves and in time, I began fearing that things would be taken away from me before I had the chance to really enjoy them. Today, however, I increasingly find myself appreciating those moves because the more we moved the more I was exposed to. Over the years I have come to accept everyone, no matter their race, religion, or sexual orientation. I can easily adapt to any sort of household environment. Today, I rarely ever find myself wishing that things went differently than they did.

Despite the w