A Childless Mother
Driving to the dollar store today to pick up balloons. Our yard sale has been unsuccessful this week, a measly $40 and I want to burn all the junk to the ground. Instead, I will focus on the blessing of making a few extra bucks from home. I will buy a few balloons, maybe pick up a matcha, and listen to music. I put on my labor and delivery playlist. “Sweet Baby H.”
A collection of songs that I chose, slowly and deliberately, over the course of several months. Meant to evoke emotion and bring me deeply into myself. My labor with Baby H did not go as planned. I agreed to Pitocin. I agreed to my water being broken manually. I agreed to rush my sweet, defenseless baby into this cold world because I was ready for him to be here.
He was born to the song, “To Make You Feel My Love,” ironically. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do… to MAKE you feel my love.” Even speed up your appearance and listen to a doctor who probably just wanted to get home, maybe even as badly as I wanted you to be here. But that is a story for another day.
Today, I am driving and the sky is still. Almost white, it’s such a light blue. The clouds look like wisps of smoke in the sky and I feel like I could reach out and scoop them into my hands. A song comes on, “A Thousand Years.”
This one is a funny choice, it’s from a movie that has been a guilty pleasure for years. A wedding scene.
“I have died every day, waiting for you. Darling, don’t be afraid. I have loved you for a thousand years. I’ll love you for a thousand more.”
Why am I crying? My face has crumpled and I feel so small. I’m singing... to myself.
“Time stands still. Beauty in all she is. I will be brave. I will not let anything take away what’s standing in front of me.”
Poor baby Breezy. Is this the first time you have ever felt beautiful? Loved? Treasured and cherished?
I feel these things for myself. And I am so sad. Grief seems to billow out from my chest, not messy or violent, just soft, quiet weeping. Nobody felt this for me. I was a perfect, sweet, loving child. I will take care of myself now.
This is a labor playlist, meant to accompany a dive deep into my womb and my soul. It did not meet its mark in June of 2020. It has finally pierced my soul, now. Days before my 30th birthday.
I have birthed so many babies. My womb has carried so many souls. 7 children.
4 of them mine.
3 of them, for others.
“Oh you’re a surrogate? You are so selfless. What a beautiful gift.”
It is not a gift. It is a gaping wound in the center of my chest, straight through to my soul.
It is a crying out, a seeking of meaning, a desperate clutching at anything to make me feel “enough.”
But thank you for your kind words.
No longer just platitudes. I feel it now.
It is an extraordinary gift, to help a person give love to a child.
It is a beautiful, miraculous treasure, to become a parent to a perfect, spotless being.
7 children. 7 babies. 7 souls on this earth to be shown unconditional love.
I have dishonored them by making it all about me.
Since I was 3 years old, I took care of everyone around me.
It was all I knew.
I am so sorry.
Please forgive me.
I just needed to take care of someone.
I needed to feel worthy.
I wanted so deeply to love someone.
I wanted someone to love me.
I love you so much.
I am sorry.
