Maybe I Should Have Been A
Nun
I spent the bulk of a year, twice....
with backaches, foot aches and headaches. I had stretch marks, heart failure and
vomited every morning of my life for nine months. I felt like a blimp and was
bedridden four months so I wouldn't lose you. I endured two days of labor, four
days including both of you. I delivered one of you with no anesthesia. I dare
anyone to EVER try to tell me I'm weak of can't take pain.
I stayed at
home and was always there for you during your childhoods. I did without many
things that a two income household would enjoy, because I thought being an
available mother was more important. I made sure you had clean clothes and good
meals, hugs and I loved you two everyday. I sat up all night with you when you were
sick, tended all your cuts and bruises. Listened to your heartaches, held you
when you cried.
I taught you the value of study and hard work and tried
to encourage you to become all you could be. I taught you about respect for God
and other people. I disciplined you when necessary, took up for you when you
were treated unjustly. I played with you and took you fishing and to places
where you could have fun and gain valuable knowledge. I was never gone, drunk,
unavailable to you when you needed a mother, even after you were grown men.
Now one of you ignores me completely as though I am non-exsistent. I am
raising the other one's child, with no help and very little contact. Everyone
tells me when you have done your best then you should not feel guilt or grief.
Everyone has not told me how to avoid those two feelings, when my best was just
not good enough and the joys of motherhood are replaced with pain.
