I'm Not Real

I managed to hold it together until we were leaving, walking back down the same halls I traversed last year to pick up Love Bug. And then it hit me like a ton of bricks. All of it, every last pebble slammed into my mind at once and  I was undone. I took deep breaths, trying to keep myself calm, but the hot tears strained against my lashes until they could no longer be contained. I blinked to wash them away, but still the tears came, faster and faster. The harder I tried to hold them back the more the pain in my chest grew until I was nearly gasping for air under the weight of it all. Thankfully, we reached the elevator and I could slump against the railing as we glided to the ground floor. The weight lifted as we exited the hospital and I could finally breathe regularly in the car after a few more deep breaths to soothe my crumpled emotions. I was so glad it was over.

Primero and I went to visit his girlfriend and her new baby in the hospital. It was as awkward and difficult as I imagined it would be. We found her with little issue and were buzzed onto the floor. Primero walked into her room well ahead of me and when I was finally behind the curtain I saw his girlfriend in the bed, her brother and mother on the couch with her mother holding the baby. Her mother did not smile. She grunted hello and returned her focus on the baby. She did not ask who I was, she did not glance at the gift we had brought, nothing. A few minutes after we arrived, she put the baby in the plastic bassinet and took the brother to get food. At that point the girlfriend mentioned how uncomfortable Primero and especially I seemed. I said I was uncomfortable. She asked why and I had to bite my tongue nearly clear off to keep from being rude. I said, “I don’t think you really want to open that can of worms. This isn’t really what I had in mind for Primero, I’m sure you can understand that.” And then I stopped talking for fear I would get verbal diarrhea and not be able to stop. So, I stood and stayed quiet. I text Primero to ask her to open the gifts, so we could see if she liked them. As we were getting ready to leave her mom and brother came back and she asked her mom to look at the gifts too. And then it was time for us to go get the little ones. As we were leaving and thanking them for letting us visit I told the girlfriend’s mom my name and who I was (Primero’s mom) and her only response was, “oh.” She never introduced herself to me or said anything to Primero.

The TV was on the whole time we were there with innumerable mother’s day commercials flaunting the lauded title of mom as if rubbing salt in my wounds. I haven’t felt this way a in long time. And it’s strange because last year Mother’s Day was so beautiful for me. But, so much has changed. And even with the precious gift of baby Love Bug, the feeling of not being authentically a mom reigns supreme. Maybe it’s just the whole baby thing with the girlfriend that has me quivering in my boots. Maybe it’s still the fear that what I have won’t stay. Maybe I’m just forever as broken as my reproductive system and I will forever spend this time of year trying to hide my shame. I don’t know. I can’t wait for this weekend to be over.

 

Although I’m sometimes called “mommy” in reality I’m a fraud

I pine and ache to achieve that title, the title of such laud

I wash the dishes, give boo-boo’s kisses

I comb their hair, play truth or dare

I cook them meals, shush angry squeals

I sing silly songs, teach right from wrong

I soothe bad dreams, rub bites with cream

And still I am not quite “real”

I’m flesh and blood with heart and soul

You can prick me and I bleed

But try as I might, I always find I’m not really real

I’m “like” a mom, but not quite there, I’m not the genuine deal

I’m not authentic, I’m a stand-in, a stunt double, a poser if you will

Someday I hope with all my might to truly be a mother

Until that day, that time in space, I guess I’ll just be “other”

For what else can I be?