Dear... My Daughters' "Mother"
To my daughters’ mother:
You know what... Mother isn’t even the right word for you. You’re a womb donor. An egg supplier. You’re not a mother. Not that I’ll ever say that to our girls. That’s right… ours. They’re mine too. More so than they are yours, even.
You supplied the egg that formed them. You provided the womb that they grew inside. You pushed them out. But that doesn’t make you a mother.
What makes a mother is all the other stuff. Being there for the good days and the bad days. A mother is someone who dries the tears and laughs with the laughs. She’s someone who will pick you up when you’re down and who will push you higher when you’re up. She’s there for the heartbreaks and disappointments that life will throw our way. She’s there for the triumphs and achievements you reach.
So... are you really a mother?
Where were you on the first days of school? What about picture days? Daddy daughter dances? Parent teacher conferences? IEP meetings? Last days of school? Right. You weren’t there. I was. I am. I will be.
I’m the one who takes them out to get all their school supplies before the first day of school. I’m the one who tries to find the perfect outfit and stresses so much over hair on the morning of picture day. I’m the one who takes them out to find their dream dress to dance the night away for daddy daughter dances. I’m the one who gets to hear what they’ve achieved and what they are struggling with at parent teacher conferences. I’m the one who wakes up early, takes long lunches, misses work to attend the IEP meetings to work out a plan to help our daughters learn better at school. I’m the one who is there on the last day of school as they have to bid their friends goodbye. And all the other things in betweens. Where are you?
I’m the one who has to be the mean mom and make them learn the responsibility of cleaning their room or turning in homework on time. I’m the one who has to make sure they have money on their lunch account or a lunch packed for school. I’m the one with all the responsibilities.
But you know what? I’m okay being the one who has to do all this. And do you want to know why I’m okay with picking up the pieces you left behind? It’s because I get the hugs every night and every morning. I get the “I love you”’s as I drop them off at school or before their eyes flutter shut for the night. I get the “thank you for dinner”. I get the smiles that can light up a room. I get it all. And you get nothing. Because you’re not here.
So thank you. Thank you for providing the eggs and the womb that made our daughters. Thank you for spouting out two beautiful girls. Thank you for making the biggest mistake of your life of leaving them behind so I can have two of the biggest blessings in my life. Thanks for not being a mother, so that I can.