What Was Not

by weirdlittlepony

It was supposed to be a beautiful experience; a transcendental trial of pain through which I would emerge transformed, to welcome you into the world we would share. I wanted your arrival to be earthy, warm, real – for your first experience to be of myself, holding you, nourishing you, after carrying you within me for so long.

But it turned out to be something that was done to me, to you, to us, our meeting marred by drugs, instruments, strangers, distance – and a year and a month and a day after the fact I still burn with the agony of what might have been, what should have been; I still ache with the loss, I still grieve those stolen moments, I still feel like I have failed you, failed us, failed myself, failed our whole femininity. I still feel alone, abandoned, not understood, expected to “just get over it” because things are now fine, and what’s the point of dwelling on what’s past?

It is not fine. I lost something of myself, something of us, and we will never get it back…

But you smile at me, my precious firstborn, you look at me and smile my smile, with your head cocked just so, in that angle as familiar to me as my own reflection, and somehow, perhaps, maybe, I can find it in myself to forgive, and to accept, and to grow past the hurt.

My light, my answer from Heaven, my heart’s protection from spiraling grief.

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