The heart of a mother.

Everyday I think of you.

Not one night goes by that I don’t cry for hours into my pillow for concern for you.

That I cannot look at one small being and smile for the hole that aches only for you.

Since when was it decided in justness that I could be held away from your little arms clinging to me in love?

Since when was it ok to remind your sister continuosly that it is ok, we will see you soon but we haven’t.

Or bravely smile as I wave goodbye to your little face with tears streaming down your tiny cheeks waiting for the opportunity to see you again.

Since when was it ok for your father to snatch you from my arms and tell the world I don’t deserve you… or possibly make you believe that you don’t deserve me?

How can people say stay strong when I cannot guard you from danger, tuck you into bed, kiss your little cheeks and remind you how much I love you.

 

When you look at me with uncertainty because you are told to stay away from me, or that your not allowed to go with me.

 

Since I left and took every strength I had to provide for you and yet somehow it isn’t or wasn’t ever good enough.

There is nothing that rips my heart more than thinking of you.

When people ask where are you and they assume I don’t care because it hurts to talk about.

Or I talk about it and they can’t understand why I can’t just take you when every part of my being wants you in my arms but I know that if I did my … it will make it worse.

That your father hates me and I “ruined your lives” for leaving and am punished everyday by missing out on your milestones.

It grieves me….

How can everyone sit back and watch and encourage me to move on or ‘just take him’ to let it go when according to one man,  I can’t have access to my child unless I do as he wishes.

 

Because he is clothed and fed and I am a ‘bad mother’ because I left my partner?

When all I did was put my children first

Not knowing where my son is or why his father keeps him from me.

 

When I fear for my safety yet was warned I wouldn’t be believed because I have had a mental illness caused from  years of emotional and physical trauma….

that I am not allowed to mention to anyone what we have endured.. or my daughter believing we will get in trouble and noone will believe her either?

And helpless to assure her when I am uncertain.

That the fear is real…. not just in my head.

That I struggle every day to fight because he warned me years ago he would win.

 

And it fucking kills me because he is a hero and I’m a ‘lying, crazy worthless’ person.  Who’s deepest fear was reasoned.. Now, it is that my son will think it’s as acceptable to endure this example just as my daughter does.

 

Is this what a seperated family is supposed to look like?

It is the most disabling feeling as a parent.

 

And all I can do is wait and wait for understanding or some sort of acknowledgment that this is enough.

Because I dared to love….

Oh how I wish I had answers.

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