an excerpt from..I am this Woman by LXO


I had Cupid in aisle nine at the grocery store. It was Valentines day, and he wasn’t due for another month. In full pregnant style, I dressed in a red and white striped jersey dress to show off my growing bump and headed to the local shop to appease my cravings with Valentine goody’s. As I headed down aisle 9 with my cake and ice cream, a weird and warm bloop dropped. Contractions happened almost immediately but now in shock I walked to the checkout to pay for my ice cream, I was worried it would melt!!

The cashier kept asking me to step outside; I found out later that was so they could help and not be sued. A phone was handed to me, people came from out of nowhere, and I was hemorrhaging so much now my red and white dress was now vibrant red from the waist down. By the time, I was at the hospital the blood was swishing on the floor, and I was ebbing out. I was in surgery for 2 hours to stop the blood and a clot the size of an orange was removed. So was my ability to have any more children. They had tied my tubes, a decision not without its weight but one that meant I would be around for my three kids rather than they are without a mother.

Right here one would declare, Ironic, life is full of them.

Cupid’s orginal name was SheKnows. I awoke to the tune of morphine and said husband informing me that he had already named our son. For the record we had never discussed SheKnows and it was on my first night home with my newborn that he had a terrible night, and all thru it I couldn’t bring myself to call his newly acquired name. The next day I walked into the registrar and changed his name to Cupid, the original name that we had decided on.

During the separation and the lead to my childrens father’s death, Cupid was taken from me three times. School holidays, a disappearance and search for him after his Dad’s death and then the final one from Thailand.

I am that Mother, who is watching her youngest son be taken as well. I am that Rebel, who refuses to be treated terribly by her children in the wake of all this madness. I am that Mother, who was told by her son that his Aunt was now more his mother.

A new word for empty is required because the battle has been so long that I need to protect myself, for I can’t afford to fall again. I am picking my battles, the war is just to big, to fierce and to long.

I am this woman saying enough is enough.

Hard choices and sad scenarios with each one interwoven with the other, overlapping like a scrapbook with too much glue. The lines on the pages have been blurred to the point I don’t even know where this one will end or if more glue will salvage it.

Cupid has been the glue for so long; I am not even sure how he has managed without now finally breaking. He lives with his brother and sister, the 3 of them stood in for each other, neither one able to face me or this pain. And because of this he is now tired, has lost who he is. Self-confidence shattered and the faith in his Mom gone.

At the ripe old age of 15, his words are in my head..This is so fucking sad Mom!

I am that Mother who now has stood down, who has been not asked, not needed and not wanted. Yet to look in from the outside, It can only be me who fixes them.

I am that Mother.

Sometimes that is not enough.

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