I hope I still live there.
The house I methodically built.
Filled with different voices, moments, and energy.
I hope the smell of wild flowers and honeysuckle still clutter the front lawn.
I hope vacations and trips make you home sick.
I hope I still live there.
Thanks for the no’s and thanks for the yes’s. Thanks for the chucks, lightning bolt necklaces, and blackberry margaritas. Thanks for polar plunges and queen bees. Thanks for colored nail polish and black bean soup. Thanks for boudoir photo books and all the interest in the flavour of the weeks. Thanks for all the little things in the beginning. And most of all thanks for asking me what my story was the first time you got into my car.
You weren’t a person, nor were you ever meant to be, and I accept that. I have to be ok with that, because I was never meant to be a mother. Though that doesn’t mean I can blink away the “what ifs” like I blink away tears. You were my little gummy bear. I talked to you more than I probably should have. I played you irish music, and read you all the books I started to hoard for you.
I wanted you.
Even though I never did, I wanted you.
I wanted you to have your dad’s eyes and my hair. I wanted you to laugh like your father and have my sense of humor. I wanted you hyper, but smart.
I wanted you.
I was terrified. Terrified of being a mom, having a kid and all the things that come along with being a child of an epileptic and a battered woman. I felt you, that seems so weird to say, but I knew you, and I loved you. I loved you in such a bizarre never met you, but felt you way. I listen to the recording of your tiny perfect heartbeat every night. I wanted you. I wanted to hold you, and protect you. You would’ve been safe with me, if only you could have been safe inside of me. we would have called you gummy bear forever, you would’ve hated it at some point. You’d be a freshy right now. our lives would be so different, stressful, but worth it. Your father would have been your biggest fan. He’d be obsessed. He’d be the dad to annoy everyone at work with pictures of his son. 50 million photos of the same sleeping baby. You’d be his everything. You’d be mine. I wanted that gummy bear, I wanted you.
Signed,
The mom I was never meant to be.
I thought about writing this 1 million times, but I guess since She’s making me, now is a better time than ever. (PS: you blame Her for a lot of things, so you don’t have to think about you.)
I know you’re scared, and alone, confused, and pissed. You have no idea who I am or that you’re capable of becoming me.
I’m sorry for letting this happen to you. For choosing this for you. For us. I’m sorry it got so far. I knew those choices were the wrong ones, but I ignored them. I should’ve saved you way earlier, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t fight my way out yet. I wasn’t strong enough. I need you to hold on. Hold on because I promise it’s worth it and you do make it out of this. I so badly want to pick you up and hold you and tell you about the world you eventually create. You’re loved, like real, healthy, not scared loved. Like the kind of love you’ve had to work hard for. And he’s your best friend. You laugh all the time. You have a home and it’s safe. It’s your favorite place to be. You’re close with your family again. And our friends, oh Lindsey, our friends are amazing. You help people, women like you right now. You’re funny and people like you. You’re a business owner and Lindsey you’re strong, you’re so so strong and you don’t ever question that. And girl you’re happy. Like legit happy.
It’s there and you’re gonna decide it’s yours. Just keep it together and keep your eyes open. We’re in this together.
I love you kid.
Love,
Strong Lindsey.
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