Mother’s Day.  I’m a mother of three children.  Three wonderful,beautiful and amazing kids.

I can remember when my then boyfriend told me I was pregnant for the first time.  I didn’t have a clue.  But he noticed different things about me.  He was so in tune with my body.  Then we raced to the store and bought a pregnancy test.  Sure enough I was pregnant.

We got married literally 11 days after finding out.  We were so happy.  And I didn’t mind as the months went on that I was sick every single day.  Not just once in the morning.  But all day long.  Every single day.

The day came when we heard her heartbeat for the first time.  I was so scared.  I never thought I would be a good mom.  I didn’t know how to change a diaper or breastfeed or anything.

Then the day came, and I started having contractions.  They weren’t very strong at first, so my entire family rallied and made me walk.  Everywhere.  Big fat me, walking down the side of the road.  Big fat me, trying to hurry the labor along so I could finally meet my baby.

Hours later, into the next morning, I was finally pushing.  And when she was half out of me I panicked and tried to get away from the doctor.  I scrambled backwards on the bed, out of my mind with fear and pain when the doctor grabbed my hips and pulled me back down and told me I wasn’t finished yet.

One more push.  She was here.  The love of my life.  My beautiful angel had come to show me true love.  Everlasting, never-ending love.  I felt like the grinch and I can remember thinking about how his heart grew three times that day, when I first held my daughter.  It was the same for me.  As though my heart got bigger and fuller, and I then knew I loved someone more than my own self.

I knew that I would do anything, sacrifice anything, be anything for that tiny little human being.  She deserved the best in life.  She deserved all the love I’d held back from everyone else.  She deserved the moon and all the stars.

And when my son came, that was a lonely day.  I sat in my dark living room all day in the quiet, waiting.  Feeling every contraction as they came and went.  I took care of my daughter, but mostly I just sat in the quiet.  Feeling nervous and calm all at once.

I didn’t go to the doctors this pregnancy.  I didn’t feel like I needed to.  But I had him at the hospital.  We didn’t really have a name picked out for him.  I had no idea who he was going to be.  When he came into this world, he was perfect in every way.  I held him and felt my heart grow all over again, we chose a name.  A family name.

My third pregnancy wasn’t quite so dark.  She was the worst.  While I had just gotten sick with the other two, she also gave me heartburn like no tomorrow.  I ate so many antacids and whatever I could find to help it.  But it always came.  She’s the only one who came out with hair.  And I loved her immediately.  She was my smallest and easiest labor.  She was ready to see the world and didn’t care to make too big a fuss coming into it.  I named her for a character from a favorite novel.

And every day, I’ve had to become a better person for them.  Not always easy.  I’m antisocial.  My poor kids weren’t socialized much, but somehow they are doing just fine figuring things out.

I haven’t always succeeded in doing what’s best.  I’ve been selfish.  I’m a human being after all.  But when it came time to let someone else do the things I couldn’t do, I let them go.

My husband and I had gotten a divorce.  He has a better paying job.  A bigger house.  A woman who stands by his side and helps him with our children every single day.  I appreciate the love she gives my kids alongside her own.  My children have friends and can go do things now.  Things I tried and failed to do for and give them.

I’m working hard now trying to save money and get a bigger place.  I want my babies with me.  But for now I sacrifice time and distance.  I cry in the dark when no one is watching.  I bleed where no one can see.  I try to be as normal as I can be when I see them or talk to them on the phone.  My oldest understands a little.  My boy just misses me.  And my youngest, I don’t know where she got the idea, but she thinks I’m being selfish and just wanted time alone with my new husband.

She’s wrong.  I would trade him for her in the blink of an eye if I had to.  She doesn’t understand that she’s better now.  She has more now.  More love, more freedom, more choices.

And me?  I’m just a mother who works and works and works and works just so she can have what she needs so maybe one day soon she won’t have to be separated from her children.  I love them.

Maybe I’m not doing good enough.  But I’m doing the best I can.  And that’s all a mother can do.


Author: doing2016

I started writing when I was very young. Then I was mortified on a bus full of people when one of my stories was read aloud. I lost my focus and quit. Now, I'm trying to find my voice and my ambition. I love to write, good or bad. So, I'm doing it here and now. Thank you.

2 thoughts on “Mother”

  1. They love you, and so do I for all you give up. It means the world to me that they are here with me. I know what you give up, you are the most incredibly strong woman, mother, so selfless so full of love for them. I adore you. I weep for you more than I will ever tell. I feel so selfish, how could I have ever let go. I am sorry for the pain I have caused the pain you get to live with.

    Liked by 1 person

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