because im eighteen

Like there is some grownup age that a mother does not still feel the pull of mothering.. that is all bullshit. this kid, laying in the ER low risk area, a partitioned room, over-lit yet somehow not bright enough for her to see that i’m even here… asking all the right questions, slow and steady. Once all the insurance is handled and paperwork signed… I’m released of my motherly duties… i’m excused from the room.. to be replaced by her person… I asked, I gave her a choice, I wanted her to choose me, for me to be her person. I was not the chosen one.

This shit fucking hurts. … and it’s not the first time. this is just the time that is hurts so much, so blatant i feel the puke rising. totally graphic.. but it’s there, I'm there…... to a point where the visceral reaction of my body hurts. There is shame that somehow i did it wrong. Guilt, that another person is taking on her baggage/my baggage. Broken, that somehow I caused all the pain in her life/my life…. and I've done this times 3… What the hell was I thinking?

There is no way my human body can take this type of pain.

I leave.

I am alone.

I do not want to talk.

I certainly have no idea how to explain 18 years of push and pull, why this moment is the one that I understand this all has to stop…..

The need for me to have this kid like me. for this kid to choose me.

I close my eyes and give into the process.

It’s going to be a long night.