My first memory.

 My parents moved to Chicago IL with their families to find jobs when they were both 16. They met while there and got married when they were 18 years old.  2 years later my brother was born. I came along 2 years after that. My mother got pregnant again when I was 9 months old. She did not take that too well. She was overwhelmed I guess because she just let me lie around in my crib most of the time  (according to my grandmother). By the time I was 18 mos. my younger sister came along and my mother still left me in my crib most of the time.  I could not walk, talk and was underfed. Even though I was not being cared for properly my mother did take care of  both my siblings and very well I might add. My grandmother came for a visit and saw that I was not being properly cared for.  She took me home to live with her and I think that shamed my mother. My grandmother lavished attention on me, got my weight up and taught me how to walk and talk. I bonded with her and was a happy baby while being with her. When I was about 2  1/2   my mother came and retrieved me. My first memory is walking up the flights of stairs to our apartment in Chicago with my mother and siblings.  I remember thinking " grandma said this is my mother. These 2 children are my brother and sister" I felt no connection. We got in the apartment and my mom just walked away from me and left me in the living room. No welcome home. Hell she didn't even talk to me much less hold me. That event may not seem like a big deal for some but for me it set the tone for my entire relationship with my mother. We never  bonded yet she did with my siblings. Never in my life, not even once, did my mother ever hold me and tell me that she loved me. NEVER.