(Throwaway obviously)
I (F) have been homeless for most of my life. I was born on the street to a single mother who raised me until she was hit by a truck. I had three brothers and sisters, but I was the one who looked the most like her (IE: white skin, blond hair, green eyes). And she would often call me her “Best baby”. On the other hand, my brother, who was slightly brown, she would call her “Poop baby”. I guess I took more of it to heart than I realized.
After my mom died, me and my siblings went out separate ways, and I haven’t heard from any of them since. Over the years I’ve spent my time living in makeshift shelters and cardboard boxes, digging through garbage for scraps of food. Then one day not long ago, I end up with this other homeless man, let’s call him “Skittles” for the fun of it. I had feelings for Skittles, ones I’d never felt before. Now keep in mind I’d never had any formal education, nobody to teach me right and wrong, just my instincts to guide me. I knew what friends were, and I knew he was special, so we ended up calling each other “Special Friends”. We set up our new home between a few trash cans in an alleyway to begin our romance.
The next month, I didn’t have my period. And a little while later I could feel what was happening: I was pregnant. For the most part I ended up staying home while Skittles went out searching and begging for scraps of food (“Nummies” as we called them). And one day he didn’t come back. I learned later that he was injured by an angry restaurant owner and died in an urgentcare after he was taken there by a bystander. Either way, I was about to be a single mother just like my own mother before me.
Then he (37M) came along. Someone I like to call “Dad”. He found me begging for food on the sidewalk one day and decided to take me in, opening up a whole new world for me. I had never had an honest to god home before, and he had to teach me a lot. He gave me my name: Daisy. He taught me how to use the bathroom properly (I pooped on his carpet a few too many times) and other things, basically how to not be a feral beast.
Of course, six months later I gave birth to triplets. One was a blond-haired boy that looked a lot like me, a brown-haired girl, and a boy with brown skin, just like my brother.
Like my mother before me, I dubbed my blond son the “Best baby”, and my brown son the “Poop baby”. But when dad caught me doing this, he went into hysterics. Saying that I needed to treat my babies equally, and that I couldn’t give my Best baby most of my breastmilk while leaving my Poop baby starving. But the way my mom had explained it to me, brown babies were made to eat poop, which is why they’re born brown. My brother did it, why couldn’t my son?
I told dad this, but he wouldn’t listen. He screamed at me that I was a “Bad mother” and didn’t deserve my babies, and he took them. Saying that he would take them to a shelter to be adopted by other parents if I didn’t take care of them properly. And so here I am typing this from the library next door. I would give anything to see my babies again, to give them hugs and nourish them. But I don’t think I can do what my dad wants of me. AITA?
TL:DR Grew up homeless. Taught that brown babies eat poop. Adoptive dad won’t let me feed my brown baby poop.