The imperfections of motherhood 

I wrote this piece one day when I desperately felt the need to mourn the death of my brother, but I couldn’t.

Truth is; I have a supportive partner who loves me and our twins dearly. However, even in his presence… mom’s guilt always wins. I always feel like my needs can wait because the babies come first. That’s why I delayed my grieving process, or maybe I used our babies as an excuse to numb the pain I was (am) going through.

As expected, I drowned and let the words rush through my fingers. Writing is always therapeutic for me.

2 months later….. I still haven’t grieved yet!!! Anyway, here goes.

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The imperfections of motherhood  

Independence gone

Desperation met

Even though I am suffocating 

I am still expected to care whether others are still breathing

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I am in pain but I still take care of their wounds

I get a little taste of what freedom could be 

But as I sigh out of relief 

They call out my name and I have to run

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Everyone looks at me for answers 

Funny enough I am filled with questions

I can’t let them down so I make everything up as I go

They look at me and ask for more

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I hide behind the wall but they know my scent

They follow me everywhere I go and drag me down

My feet so painful it’s as though they will explode 

I sit on the ground and I feel the blood rushing through my veins

They need something, and they need it urgently 

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Dragging my feet, I try to run

But my body gets so heavy I fail to carry it

They yell and I am reminded of how incompetent I am

They cry and my insecurities kick in

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All I want to do is make them happy

But in the process, I have lost my own joy

Damned if I do, damned if I don’t

Fuck it; I am not getting out of bed today!!!

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