I wish my mother had aborted me

Now, before anyone starts lighting pitch-forks, let me explain myself. Yes, I do love my mother, and yes, I believe she loves me, but I wish she had aborted me. It would've been easier for everyone

My mother's childhood was rough. Born in Cuba, she was neglected by her mother and was later given to her uncle. Then, at the age of 13, her uncle gets ran over by a car, leaving her with an abusive woman. At 16, she was given back to her mother and father, and had witnessed first-hand abuse. Then, with the help of her rich grandfather, both her and her father came here. She gets sent to school where she's bullied for being Hispanic, and she only had one friend. At the age of 17, her grandfather starts fighting her father for her custody and to return the house. Her father refuses, and in the end, her father somehow won. Then she meets my first sister's father, they do the deed, and broke. Then he leaves her, she starts working, and falls for a millionare. At first, it seemed like everything was going smoothly, until my second sister was born. That's when all hell decided to break loose. He abused everyone in that house except for his blood-daughter for years. That's when my mother filed for a divorce. Of course, she also fought for custody, but lost. So, here she is, in the middle of fighting for some type of custody for her kids, who wanted to be with her (well, the oldest did. The second child wanted to stay with her father), and is trying to not let him ruin all of our lives (which he did, since he left my mother completely broke when he sued her). Now, imagine all of this, and then my mother decides to get pregnant with me. While my father is also trying to file a divorce against my (youngest) older brother's mother. I was born inside a hell-hole, but my mother says that I saved her life. She tells this story every time we argue (so every 3-4 days), so I could say it in my sleep.

When my father figured out she was pregnant, he wanted her to get an abortion, which I wish she did. She wasn't in any state to take care of a child, and up until I was 4, I didn't recognize either of my parents as my actual parents, so what was the point of having me? Most people didn't even know she was pregnant until she went into labor. She decided to test luck, and gave birth to me.

Now, she was in no shape to take care of any child. I was practically the test subject. I can't remember any memory when I was a child where I wasn't afraid of her, but I do remember accidentally cutting myself with the razor she left out when I was 3. She kept me in a crib most of the time, and the only two people who actually acted like parents were my oldest sister (when my mother finally got some custody of her children because the guy died from brain cancer) and my step-father. I actually called my sister mom until I was around four or five, and didn't know whether or not my real father was truly my father, but it was better to be safe than sorry, so I called him dad anyways. She didn't raise me, and up until recently has she actually started doing her job as a parent. She left me to fend for myself during tough times, and in the end, if she actually did her job as a parent sooner, maybe I wouldn't have so many scars. Maybe I wouldn't have attachment and abandonment issues. Maybe I wouldn't push everyone away. But maybes don't change, and in the end, I don't really blame her. I just really wish she had aborted me.