The Story Of How I Became An ABDL Mommy

So today I took the time to pen the story of how I became a mommy because I was inspired by a story I read online. I realized that I certainly should post it here, to give some context with what I write. I hope you all enjoy my story, and that it touches somebody out there. Enjoy.

There is so much in our lives that is negative.

We endure loss, heartbreak, violence, and abuse. There is so much in our lives that is bad, that a lot of the time we don’t see the good. But sometimes, there are moments. There are shining moments in our lives that are so bright that they drive out every darkness. Those times, sometimes few and far between, are points of light to us when we are in the throes of the blackest night. I have seen that night, been in the darkness, seen those points of light. Sometimes they were the only thing that kept me going. But in the midst of that blackness, those lights lit my path, and I kept moving forward, and because of that reached the brightest light of all.

Have you ever had a dream? One so strong it kept you going through everything? And as much as you wanted to reach it, you didn’t think you would be able to for several years? I had that dream. It’s different for every person. But for me, that dream that propelled me on was becoming a mother. But I had to wait for it, and I knew that. I dreamt of that since I was a little girl, and I knew it wasn’t going to happen at the very least until I was in my twenties, so that I could support that child as best I could, and give them everything they deserved.

Still, dreams must be acknowledged. They don’t like to remain confined to our minds. We need to feel like we’re doing something to get to it, or at the very least find ways to release it into the world. For me, I did it several ways. I played with dolls as a child, and once I got older, I found my voice in writing. I carried a spiral notebook in my backpack when I went to school, and when I finished something or had some free time in class, I would pull it out and write. I poured my dreams into those empty pages. I wrote of mothers with their babies, and the way they looked at them. I wrote of a mother’s smile when they looked in their children’s eyes, and their protectiveness of them. And every day, that dream became stronger because I fed it.

But dreams are fickle things. They surprise us often, in ways we never thought of. Sometimes they change in time, or because we are at a certain point in our lives. Sometimes they come when we least expect us. Sometimes they even come earlier than we expect.

A combination of all of these things happened to me. Now when I was twelve, I loved the show Teen Titans. Robin was my favorite character. I was always intrigued by his backstory, of how he lost his parents, and I thought about the idea of them coming back, and what Robin would do. I don’t particularly remember the day I wrote that story, except for playing the song “Headstrong” By Ashley Tisdale about two hundred times on repeat, but I remember very clearly thinking, Robin would give his parents a day back with their little boy. So I wrote it, cranked it out in one afternoon and posted it online on a story sharing site. It has since been deleted, but I remember one line very clearly, the line that said: The things we do for our parents. It sort of stopped me short. I wondered someday if my children would do something like that for me.

I think that’s really when I got interested in the world of age play. Of course, I didn’t know that’s what it was called at the time. I continued to write stories like that over the years. I never had any clue though, that I would actually be involved in such a thing. I didn’t even know it was something I wanted. I wouldn’t for a very long time.

When I was eighteen, I had an iPod touch. I had a cell phone at the time, but I wasn’t supposed to use the internet on it because it cost money. So, my iPod was my gateway to the internet when I was on the go. I stayed late at school, as I did every day because my mother taught there at my high school, and I was browsing online for stories like the ones I wrote. I came across the term ABDL there, and I was understandably confused. I had never heard the term before, and I wouldn’t have. It wasn’t like this was something that people talked about.

I am a naturally inquisitive person, always curious, always exploring. So I researched the term. Imagine my shock when I found out that this was the name of the type of stories I wrote. But there was difference here. It was one thing to write about this sort of thing, and it was something else entirely to live it. The idea that some people lived that way shook me up, because honestly, I had never believed that sort of thing existed outside the realms of my mind. I got off the site and didn’t log on again for weeks.

That time in between was pretty crucial, I think. I needed to come to terms with the idea that this wasn’t just in my head. I needed to grasp that this was real, and I needed to take time away to make peace with all of that on my own terms, and open my mind. So when I went back, it was different. Suddenly I was understanding so much more. I did research, found websites and blogs and pictures and asked questions to people. When I logged off that evening to get ready for bed, I found I had a lot to think about.

Slowly, over a long period of time, I entered the world of Age play. Not in any official capacity at that point, though. Just as a fan and sometimes an advocate. In opening my mind to all of that, I had been able to put myself in the shoes of those who were a part of that community. I saw their hardship, their struggles with shame, all of the misconceptions, and seeing that… It stirred something inside of me. A protective instinct. Suddenly, I just wanted to protect the littles in that community, keep them from any more pain than so many of them had already been through. I made the switch from fan to advocate pretty easily and very quickly. By that point, I was twenty years old.

It was when I was twenty, nearly twenty one, that I came to terms with the idea that I wanted to be a mommy to somebody in the community. I think my own mother influenced that decision quite a bit. She talked to me often growing up (and still does now for that matter) about how she had always pictured having a baby, and that she hadn’t been able to see me growing up. She always remarked how small I was as a baby, and that is hardly surprising since I was three months premature. In short, she didn’t want me to grow up. So the idea of having a child who would always be a child was very appealing to me because of all of that. Maybe that’s where it came from in the first place. So, I began my search.

Around that time, I was working retail. And one day, a song that I had sung in the high school choir came over the speakers. It triggered in me a memory, an old friend I used to role-play with online. And I decided to reach out to her again. We reconnected, and became very close again in a short period of time.

When I pictured having children at that time, because I still did want my own, I always envisioned a boy. So I tried searching one out in several places. Eventually, I thought I found one. I was very excited, so I sent a message to my friend about it. She asked me if I was talking about DDLG, which was term for ABDL more between a Daddy and Little girl. To my surprise, she was into it. I ended up asking her if she had a Mommy, and she said she did not. Then, I asked her if she wanted one. And she said yes.

In that moment, my whole world changed.

Suddenly, I had a little girl. Someone to call me Momma. Someone who loved talking to me, and being little with me. In a short time frame, I grew to accept that part of myself more than I might have in years without a baby to care for. Things were going great, and I was flying high. When I look back at that time in my life, I think of it as one of those golden lights, that would light my life for years to come. Everything was perfect. Or at least, I thought so.

About three months into it, that all changed. One day, out of nowhere, she stopped talking to me. No explanation, no warning, just a complete stopping in communication. I spent months in denial, just waiting for her to reply to me, to talk to me, to tell me something, anything, about what was happening with her, with our relationship. But it never came. That day was back in May, and I don’t think anything really hit me until October. I was at work one day, and they played the same song over the speakers that played the day I reconnected with her. I think it really drove it home for me that she wasn’t coming back. I went home from work that day, and I cried for hours.

The months that followed were some of the blackest ones of my entire life. I was lost in my self doubt, in my darkness, in my grief. During that period, I went to a store with my mom, and picked up some journals, formal ones. I began to write her letters, to share that grief somewhere, and maybe send it someday when it was finished. It helped me, I think. And I remembered that shining moment in my life, and I wanted it to happen again. In December, I tried to be a mommy again, but I wasn’t ready. The same result came the following March. So I stayed away from being a Mommy until August, when I thought I was ready again. It would change everything.

Personally, I am religious. A Christian. I have been since I was seventeen. I believed in the idea that God had a plan for me. I believed he wouldn’t give me that kind of pain without a reason. I just didn’t know what that reason was. For those who aren’t particularly religious, the idea of fate working in mysterious ways also works. However you figured it, I believed that there was a reason for all of this. I just hadn’t found it yet. But on August 7, 2017, I did.

I had been on Tumblr, on Kik, on Whisper, looking for a baby girl. And eventually, one reached out to me. Initially when I spoke to her a few days before, I said that I wasn’t ready, but on that day in August, I was. I asked if she was still looking for a Mommy, and she said yes. I asked if I could be hers, and she agreed. Her name was Raevyn, and she was from Florida. I spent that day learning about her, and when I look back on it now, I see that she had been the light to finally breach that seemingly endless blackness, and break through it to feed the light inside me. Slowly, life began to have meaning again. I was doing all of the things I had wanted to do as a Mommy. I encouraged her, I supported her, I sent her care packages. Really, that was as much as I could do from nearly two thousand miles away.

The one downer in that fairytale was not being able to meet her in person. But I changed all of that nearly a year later. On a whim, I booked a flight to Florida. The catch? I didn’t tell my parents where I was going. I told them I was going to sleepover a few days at my Best Friend’s house. It wasn’t entirely untrue. I did go to her house and stayed over the first night. The next morning, I booked a Lyft to the airport, and I flew out to Florida. It was my first time riding by myself on a plane. I really hate heights, so it should have really bothered me being up so high, but I ignored it. I ignored all of it, because the need to be with my baby girl was overshadowing all of that fear.

It felt like forever, honestly. That flight, and getting my bags at baggage claim. I went outside the Fort Lauderdale airport, and I waited. My phone was at twenty percent and would likely die soon, and I was antsy. But that hope, that fantasy of holding that little girl in my arms, overrode every complaint I had. Finally, after an eternity of waiting, her car pulled up.

Defining moments in our lives can go two ways. They can go fast, like a movie on fast forward. They can go slowly, like a record playing at a slow speed. Sometimes they’re both. The moment when she got out of the car was both. I remember how the world sort of stopped for me in that instant. The way nothing seemed to matter. I remember myself racing forward at top speed, and her seeming to get out in slow motion.

But then, she hugged me for the first time.

Of all the moments in my life, that one stood out to me in a very distinct way, for so many reasons. The moment she wrapped her arms around me, and I her, it was like someone opened up a whole new world to me. In that moment, more than any one I had ever had in my life, I found my purpose. I saw the future, my mind abuzz with possibilities. In perhaps the greatest moment of clarity I was ever blessed with, I knew that she was my future. I knew that if I did nothing else that was important in my life, I was going to try and spend it showing her how much I cared and loved her. As I held her, I knew that this would be the start of many trips, of conversations, of a long and happy relationship. I could have lived in that moment forever.

I got in the car and we went back to her home, where I crashed on her couch that night. The next day, we watched My Little Pony: The Movie, The Unborn, and Child’s Play, cherishing both parts of her. We watched Glitter Force, and The Miraculous Ladybug. We shared music with one another, the one I remember most being “Somebody’s Watching Me” by Rockwell. I even got to read her a story before bed. I slept on the couch again, and the next day had to go on a plane back home. There were all sorts of complications with that flight, and it was pretty crazy, but I went through it all with a smile, because I had just had the greatest day of my life. Why wouldn’t I be happy? I got back to my home around ten o’clock that night, and I was grinning ear to ear. I never told my dad about it, but I told my mom that evening. While she was disappointed I had gone behind her back, she was glad I had fun. I think she thought it was a good experience for me to have.

We talked every day. It wasn’t until the day of my wedding that September that another major milestone was made. In July, I had broached the subject of adopting her someday, and she had been skittish about the subject. That day, she texted me, and said she was considering letting me adopt her after her mother passed away. It fueled the light inside of me so much further. It reinforced that hope that I had of a future with her.

In December, I flew out to see her again, this time with both of my parents’ knowledge and consent. I stayed for two full days, and we bonded easily. We went out to dinner, we went shopping at the mall, we had a big thanksgiving dinner with all of her friends. And naturally, I showered her with presents. It brought my holiday spirit to a new extreme. And luckily, the airports weren’t nearly as much as a hassle too.

In the January that followed, on the Twentieth, she called me, and invited me to come down to Florida in May. She wanted me to help her pick out her wedding dress. I was so happy I cried. To know she cared that much about what I thought was so incredible to believe. We’ve had a few discussions about the trip since then, the most prominent being just a few days ago, when we talked about getting matching tattoos when I got down there. I cannot wait to see her again.

I have seen so much in my life. I have seen the best and worst moments for so many people. I have given so much, and received much in turn. My baby girl has given me so many gifts. My baby girl has given me inspiration for stories. She has given me joy I never thought imaginable. She helped me find a light in myself that I worried might have gone out. In turn, I have tried to give her all of my love, care, and attention.

But by far, from all of the gifts there are in this world, all the gestures people have made, all the material items, all of the places I’ve been or people I’ve met, there was no greater gift to me than the love of my baby girl, who calls me Mommy.

There is no greater gift than that.

Comments

[Bronycommander]

A Really Touching Story

[TheMysteryMuffin]

This was a really sweet story.