Today I was Supposed To Be A Mom

February 21st

Today, I was supposed to be a mom. I was going to ascend into queendom, transforming into a goddess, bearer of life, deliverer of sweet essence. But today isn't… that. In my valley of wretched shadows of death and malice demons, I nearly drowned with my babies. And as malignant beasts ravaged every corner of a broken world, which was all I thought I knew. It was my everything. My two little sweet ones were my everything.

But this wasn't about me or them. Remember these enemies were malignant-and these shadows consumed a relationship that nearly devored me whole. The person I daydreamed of having this moment which brutalized this manifestation in selfishness, cowardice, shame. See- no one is ever ready to suddenly command tiny beings out of this societal-driven fear that no matter what, we'll screw up. There´s a gross disdain with mustering up the gusto to see reflections where we rather see vices and distasteful delusions. Why be so afraid? I asked myself that after every argument, every accusation, every time he screamed at me, every time I cried myself to sleep, everytime I bled out. Everytime…

Today I was supposed to be a mom, but fatal feelings got in the way and my babies and I were collateral damage. I bled out one too many times, the abuse withered my soul, my body was rejecting the pregnancy. No amount of lulling my babies to sleep was going to end the nightmare. No amount of antibiotics would have cured the infection. No amount of love was going to heal the narcissist. Where was I supposed to go in this valley of shadows?

He left me beaten in my mind. He left our children with emptiness before they could ever know a father's love. He left me with an impossible story, burdening my chest. He left me as if I were nothing… no one. Why I let you stomp all over me and with a bloodied heart and two precious souls resting in my womb, I lifted my head and still offered you love amidst the firestorm you rained down on me. Where was I supposed to go after all of that? My body sadly told me the answer, as I never feared dying more than during this first pregnancy. At this young, tender age, I thought I was gonna die before I ever got to hold or see my little ones. God had a different path, though. One that I hated, one that tortured my soul, a path without my kids.

I walked through the fire and had to make an impossible choice. 

Staring at the life of misery my kids would endure without me if I couldn't pull through this second miscarriage scare. Staring at the life wed all struggle through as potentially disabled humans, all three of us… no one should ever have to stare into their own personal hell and wonder if their future would die with their children. I walked through the fire for my babies.

And their passing will never be in vain.

Their names were Zima and Kami. 

One of them really fuckin liked Smashmouth's Allstar, and one of them liked green grapes. And in the months I carried them, they were lovely and they were mine…

And even though malice tried to control me, and a bitter, self-hating man bent on blaming me, accusing me, threatening me, harassing me, stalking me, abusing me tried to destroy me from the inside out, I release my regrets. My babies are safe from a monster and free from any more physical pain. I teetered on the brink of a fervid and fickle death, and I walked away.

Today, I was supposed to be a mom, but in my prayers and reflections, I was a mom already. I held my babies, sung them to sleep, and walked new sidewalks and avenues to show them flowers and dogs, skateboarders, and rivers. I cooked them my favorite meals and took us out on lunch dates. I sat in the ocean and let them feel. Really feel all that this human experience is. Sloshing, cold waves, in masterful chaos and ordered calm. My Kami and my Zima were the life switch for me. I wanted these little beings to join me earthside, but it wasn't our time yet.

We'll always be together, for this is not the end, just until we meet again.

On the day they died, as I awoke to tubes and stark white florescent lights engulfing me, machines whirring, and the fentanyl slurred my words, and doctors chattered in low whispers, my consciousness snatched me away from the dream where my boys appeared. ¨It's okay Mom¨ Zima said to me, all grown up, dressed in suits with Kami by his side. ¨we're okay. it's okay.¨

And he's right. It's okay. It's okay for me to hurt, to cry, to move on, to heal. My babies gave me full, unconditional, loving permission to live my life through new eyes, a changed body, and a phoenix soul. I miss my babies everyday and I thank them for their love, their spirit messages, their presence.

Today I'm a mom in grief, doing her best to give herself grace and carry on amidst the horrors and violent beauties. I'm a giver of life, diligently building a worthy life to my standards and happiness, patiently waiting until I bear new little earthside souls, with a loving person. In a pax romana where my body will be cherished and nourished, and our future babies showered in divinity and unconditional love. That is my lover girl mood board my only holy empire.

This piece was written out of fury, epiphanies, shadow work, and an ironclad will to thrive and not just survive.

Resources:

National Domestic Violence Hotline: 800–799–7233 or SMS: Text START to 88788

Postpartum Support International: 1800–944–4773