In light of Mother's Day approaching, I wrote poem about my feelings of not being a mother. Now, what I hope you take away from this poem is not sympathy for me. What I want you to take away is how you talk to women who are like me. Whether by choice or not, there should be no exclusivity among women based on having children. We live complex lives filled with worries and victories too.
That is all I am going to say as an introduction.
I’m sorry!
You’re an Other. You’re not a Mother.
The door closes.
I hear the lock bolt.
I thought this was church.
I thought I was welcome.
I thought “Come as you are!” was really the church motto.
The smiling faces on the pamphlet assured me.
But I see,
That coming with disappointment and pain,
Will never be approved in the “dress code”.
Don’t “Come as you are”, daughter of God.
You don’t fit the club of women your age.
Mommas and grandmas are welcome.
Not your kind.
We can’t make conversation with you.
“Have you ever had a sleepless night with a child? No?
You and your luxury!”
I protest mentally.
I’ve laid awake crying.
Nursing Hope Delayed once a month.
All night. With tears.
I know dragging mornings.
I know what it is like wondering if I am doing it all right.
I know what it is to hope it all turns out right in the end.
I know the daily.
I know the nightly.
I KNOW THINGS!
Why the locked door?
Why the exclusive club?
I don’t want to be “seen”.
I want to be known.
I want you to know that I KNOW THINGS!
But the lock remains secure.
The door is shut.
The laughter behind the door punctuates my tears.
Sorry dear.
You’re an Other. You’re not a Mother.