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The day I brought you home

I’d have gladly died for you. And when I say “gladly”, I mean happily, joyfully, with zero doubts or concerns.  Had I only known you’d not only not need me, but you’d even not want me so much so that you’d erase and delete me.

I suppose I was blind to even that possibility in my fervent commitment to show a child the love and compassion I did not know; in my desperation to believe giving you these things made me worthwhile and meant my life would be meaningful after all. I thought you’d need a momma’ s love like I had needed.

Perhaps I was too desperate for those things to see that I had nothing you needed or wanted and that I never would have them either… that nothing I ever did, said, or had to give you would be anything you ever might want.
Most of my life I desperately wished I’d never been born, but the minute I looked into your face I believed you were the reason I was born and why I’d been forced to live through so much torment and abuse. If I had to go through those hell fires all over again just so you could exist exactly as you are, I would and I wouldn’t have complained once had I known that I had go through that to get to you.

In all those early years of strife and abuse getting to you, what if I’d known you’d hate me anyway? What if I’d know you’d despise me for being the “disgusting” unbearable product of it all?

What if I’d known I’d go through all of that to get to you just to be criticized, persecuted, hung out to dry, attacked and demeaned for every single scar I bear from my very journey to get to you? And later, to survive with you?

What if I’d known that you’d someday rip my heart out and do/be/say the things to me that I already believed about myself up to and until you were born ? Had I known for every battle I fought for you, for every belly laugh we shared, for every tender moment of feeling my soul bonded directly and unbreakably to another and feeling the joy of watching my heart beat outside my chest… what if I’d known you’d take a giant eraser and erase every single happiness I fought to have with you? That you’d obliterate in openly expressed disgust the only thing I felt I ever did well or worthwhile?  That you’d take a magnifying glass to my every scar and wound and lift them up in disgust to show the whole world everything I’d always hated and felt ashamed for about being me?

That you’d shamelessly persecute me in public for having a weak bladder? That you’d scream at me because I engaged in normal, adult, sexual activities in the privacy of my own bedroom late at night while you slept? Well after I’d fed, read to, and tucked you safely in your own bed?

That if you ever told me you hurt, that I’d immediately do anything in my power to stop your hurt? And that you’d just say that wasn’t my doing nor was it even close to good enough for you?

What if I’d known you’d grow to be the very entity of the two people who nearly destroyed me before you were even born?  That abuse I took at their cruel hands for as long as I could survive it, until I knew I couldn’t withstand any more and still survive? Only to have you continue the very same soul sucking, heart wrenching, life choking, humiliating, and demeaning tactics I barely survived from them, but fought to survive just to show you the love and security I never knew?

Only to have you finish me off… with them guiding your hands, your body, your mind, and even rearranging your memories like a puppet I gave birth to merely to finish their original task?

What if?

Had I known these would be your distorted and erased experiences of me as a mother, I’d have killed myself the day I brought Savannah home from hospital.  I’d happily have brought you and your sister to your life and existence and then handed over mine.

And all that struggle just to take my former abusers ammunition to destroy me away and hand it straight over to you. To destroy me once and for all with the same cruelty.

And I wish I had done just that. I could have saved myself years of suffering and worry and constant nitpicking myself over how to be a good momma… I could have saved myself from pushing relentlessly to rehabilitate my body in order to have a job that barely covered our bills.

But most of all it seems I’d have given you sooner what you wanted and needed the most from me… a truly erased, totally silent,  and invisible momma. 

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