Liza Bramlett about her children

My first baby boy was not mine, forced on me by a white man. I did not know what to do. He did not care about the child, and even less me. I was a mother, but I could not love the child.

My second child was with a man I loved. She was so beautiful. When she smiled, everyone in the room couldn't help but be happy. I could love her. But could not love shat she would become a woman with a body that she could not control.

My third child was with the same man I loved. A boy this time. He was strong, even at a young age. He wanted to be just like his big brother. I didn't want him to be.

My fourth child, another boy. My third and last child of my choosing. He was full of mischief, and never listened to me. His head always in the clouds. He cried a lot, but I loved to comfort him. To hold him in my arms, my last memory of the man I loved.

My fifth and sixth children were twins, two girls with caramel skin. The light brown that so many moms told me was beautiful I hated. Everyone thought these two girls were my most beautiful children. I didn't want my girls to be beautiful.

My seventh child, another girl. Each girl I had never made sense to me. Their fathers hated their existence. Attacked their mother's soul to create a smaller version of her.

My eighth child, a boy, was my lightest child. Looked too much like his dad. Every day he got older I was more scared to look at him.

My ninth child, another boy. So close to his just older brother. Looked like him too. Their dad's beastly face. They look so much like him, yet their lives are so different.

My tenth child weighed the most when he came out. It had become routine. Children I prayed every day I wouldn't have, that I had to feed.

My eleventh child, a girl, almost as dark as me. Everyone always told me how much we looked alike, which always made me sad for her.

My twelfth child was a star in everyone's eyes. I felt God every time she sang. I cried every time she sang.

My thirteenth child had the brightest smile in town. He was funny. His dad's evil laugh still rings in my ears.

My fourteenth and fifteenth, twins, one boy and one girl, were inseparable. They never left each other's side. He did alright, but I never knew how to raise a daughter without helplessness.

My sixteenth child was another girl, another creation that I did not know how to love or how to hate. I only knew how to feed, how to make them stop crying. But they couldn't stop my tears.

My seventeenth child was my darkest child. All of her siblings teased her. All I could do was hug her tight, but how do I love her when I never wanted her.

My eighteenth and nineteenth were my third set of twins. This time two boys so fast I couldn't try to chase. By now I had no energy to chase. No energy to run or to play.

My twentieth child everyone thought was white. Her hair was almost straight. I was always hopeful she wouldn't have my fate. Maybe she could just leave and pretend to be white.

My twenty-first child almost died at first. I would not have been sad. I had been praying ever since the first one for them all to die before they could feel the pain of this world.

My twenty-second child never stopped eating. She would always ask for food, even 30 minutes after dinner. I wanted my kids to be strong, because I did feel I had any more strength to give.

My last child was calm. Even though I prayed the hardest for her to never come, she did. But god made her calm. The last of the children I never asked for and never wanted. Who controlled my body while my soul was in pieces.

I wanted to talk about all of them, because they all were people in this sad world, and the pain kept piling on with each child. But I was a mother to all of them.

-Liza