Mama, it was you  

Mama, when I got the pregnancy test, it was you I wanted to tell. 

It was your excited face I wanted to show so we could scream in excitement together. 

When my baby was born, it was you I wanted to be there to hold it. To tell me what I’d been through was tough, but you were there to help me so it wouldn’t be tougher. 

It was you that I wanted to tell me how to raise my baby, to share your advice. To tell me how I will learn to be selfless, that I will love so much that my heart will grow by an inch…that my life had been complete, as had yours. 

Mama, I wanted you to tell me, how it would test me. How it would hurt me. How much I’d break, how vulnerable I would become, how scared I would be, how every day i’d doubt myself but somehow things would just be okay. 

I wanted that. 

But I didn’t get it mama

I couldn’t have it.  

Because you weren’t there. 

Instead mama, I felt an anger that held hands with grief. I felt a sadness that intertwined with loss, I felt a broken heart that was confused, because you still were on this earth. You just weren’t apart of my world. 

I couldn’t have the shopping dates I see so many mums have, pushing their prams while their mother helped them pick out toys and clothes. Watching on with an envy that flooded my soul with tears while I walked alone.

I couldn’t have the phone calls that asks “mama the baby is crying, what do I do?” 

I had to figure out on my own mama. I didn’t want to figure it out on my own. 

Instead I questioned how could I love someone when someone didn’t love me enough to stick around. Instead I questioned if I was worthy enough, if I would do it right, if I would leave too. 

I think about how my little boy tells me he loves me, and I remember how we would tell each other, mama. Had I known they’d be my only moments, I would have never let them go. 

I think about how my little girl, the girl you’ve never met, looks at me with such awe in her eyes, and I at her, and how we used to do that mama… but her eyes you’ll never know. 

And my eyes have aged, and yours have too, they show many years we have lost mama. It’s your eyes I miss, mama. It’s your eyes I need. We have the same eyes, mama.

I want to grieve mama,the things we never had. I want to grieve the mama I should have had. But how can you grieve when the person isn’t gone, just gone from your sight.

I will be whole mama, I will…but I’ll never be the same. 

Although I learned mama, how to be strong on my own, how to stand up in motherhood on my own, how to kick ass in this parenting world, but I’d trade it all you know? I’d trade the life lessons, all of it, because in all of it mama, it was only you that I wanted. I just wanted you.