I used to think it was normal and acceptable what you were doing to me. My entire childhood, I thought I was *lucky*, even. Every weekend, when you sent me to my grandparents to stay with them overnight, I thought it was so great. Other kids were jealous because they didn't see their grandparents so much, and my grandmother was always baking homemade cookies and pies. Grandad made apple cider for us and taught me how to climb the trees in their expansive backyard. I felt I was the luckiest kid ever.
But then I became a mother myself. I look deep into those cloudy grey-blue eyes of my sweet daughter, and I know, deep into the core of my heart, I could never, ever leave her the way you left me. Every weekend, just sending me off like a castaway rag. Here I had thought I was just meant to be enjoying time with my grandparents, but now it's obvious to me that you just didn't want me around. And even though I didn't consciously realize that until now, I must have subconsciously known it.
It's the only explanation.
If I had been loved properly, if I had been attached, if I had had a real mom… then I would never have made the decision to get an epidural during my goddess-making. Here I was, preparing to bring my daughter earthside, in an event that should have connected me with all women across space and time in a holy harmonic symphony of moaning, and I couldn't feel anything below my waist. Why? Because I didn't want to be in "pain." Because the pain I carry with me every single day, the pain in my heart from not feeling your love, the pain of knowing I am just a castaway rag to you, is already too much. To also feel the "pain" of power surges must have seemed too much for me. I put myself and my own feelings ahead of my sweet daughter, and asked for spinal intrusion.
I will never get that moment back. I will never be able to give Skymoonflower the birth she deserves. And it's all because of you.
Needless to say, she will not be eating your homemade cookies every weekend. She will be home with ME where I can shower her with the unconditional love I never knew until her imperfect entrance into the world.
With eternal disgust,