Not a mother.

Sometimes it stings.
Sometimes it nags.
Other times it lingers.
Mostly it remains.

I hold my head in my hands...waiting.

My heart is breaking slowly...constantly.

It seems like I am slipping......always.

My hope is apathetic....daily.

I imagined it differently. I imagined it to be easier. I imagined it to come naturally.
I didn't imagine this.

I wasn't prepared for this.

I feel selfish being sad. I'm not dying. I'm not physically ill. I'm not injured. I'm not starving. I find myself comparing my situation to the hardships of others, and it seems so minor and unimportant.

Unimportant. Misunderstood. Overlooked.


I'm not a million things, but I'm not a mother either.

- Heather