My first trip to rehab, back in 1992, I learned about “drug dreams”.  I’d have this very vivid dream of getting high.  When I woke up with a start, I’d check myself, my surroundings, my memory of the previous few hours to discern whether or not it was a dream.

Last night, I had a dream about The Kid.  Not that I was parenting, but we were together.  Talking, laughing.  It was comfortable & easy.  I woke up smiling & the normal household sounds smacked the dream from my head.  It was just a dream, stupid.

Because I was stupid, I gave my son to strangers.  I can’t even believe my own bullshit at this moment of “being the good girl trying to do the good thing”.  The bottom line, I was stupid.  Women before me raised children without a partner, women after.  Like childbirth, it happens every day, and has from the beginning of time.  I couldn’t see the forest for the trees.  I mean, a year beyond the unplanned pregnancy.

A few years after The Kid was born, I got married. I waited desperately to have kids, to legitimize my own status: A REAL MOM.  I left my first husband for several reasons, one of which was that it appeared he didn’t want children with me.  I moved & futzed around, treating my body more like a roller coaster than a temple.  Then the infertility.

true story:

several days ago, while i was working in the store, two women came in with their 6 month olds.  i hated them on sight.  faux hippie, tanning bed brown, bottle blondes with their clearly adorable children.  i hated them all.  kids too. (sorry babies)  these stupid plastic bitches co-opting my style & having the nerve to bring their babies to my very public place of employment.  later on i huffed & puffed & blew down the eardrums of those closest to me.

Jealousy? That shit will kill you, girl. I know, neocortex, STFU.

Whether it’s some simple thing my body can’t do, or something I DID to my body while riding the previously mentioned roller-coaster, the result is the same.  I feel cheated, and stuck in No Mom’s Land.

I wanted to opportunity to buy overpriced onesies with kickass graphics.  I know it’s not practical, but who gives a shit? I wanted to dance to motown classics in my living room holding The Baby, singing.  I wanted to be the comforter, the tear wiper.  I wanted to know that those smiles in the photos were for ME.  I wanted to watch my husband fall in love with our perfect little terror (I mean, gorgeous spawn).  I wanted to teach little Malcolm or Ophelia the mysteries of the universe.  And for the love of salsa, I wanted to obtain Membership to the Mommy Blogger Club.

This has been eating away at me, in delicate bites, For years.

For the first time, maybe I’m reaping what I’ve sown. It’s a hell of a harvest.  Black, bitter, hard to swallow.

11 thoughts on “Bile”

  1. (((((hugs))))). Tears in my eyes as I type this sending my love across the miles I’ll write more when I’m not at work and can allow the tears to flow

  2. now I’ll spew a little bile of my own.

    it fucking sucks.
    the whole lot of it.

    my heart aches for yours. the jealousy, that envy.
    the roller coaster. the regret.
    the what-ifs.

    it all just sucks.

    sharing some tears and fists with you on this one.
    big fat hugs to you, barb.
    love you.

  3. Oh damn Barb. You aren’t stupid. You weren’t stupid. You made the decision based on the information that was given to you at the time. You did not make it free of influence. Do not take this shit on yourself.

    Every damn one of us has made mistakes. I’m sorry you get such visual breathing examples to make you question your choices.

  4. Oh, Barb. 🙁

    You are NOT stupid: you made the best decision you could with the tools you had at the time. Period.

    I so love your honesty, woman. I love that you tell it like it is. I love YOU.

  5. I am there with you. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Why aren’t we good enough to parent our own children? Yes, I was able to have another one but it’s not the replacement I thought it would be, not the redemption. And I think it’s partly because I waited too long but mostly because I gave my son away. Every day she looks at me and what do I see? Not the love and joy she is sending. I see, “You are stupid. You are not good enough. You don’t deserve me. You will do something stupid or neglectful and I will disappear and everyone will know what a fraud you are.” The demon is inside me and it won’t leave. Seriously.

  6. I can’t even nod my head and think “I understand” at what you’ve written. It’s very powerful and very sad. But your writing voice is so strong and clear, it gets inside me even though I can’t begin to know how it feels to be you. Thanks for sharing this, even though it hurts.

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