When I Became a Mother

The moment you become a mother

The heavens are supposed to open up

The angels are supposed to sing

Tears of joy are supposed to flow

The moment you become a mother

The earth is supposed to split open

Goosebumps are supposed to cover your skin

The moment I became a mother

Nothing.

There was no earth-shattering quake

No overwhelming sensation of joy

Heaven did not shine down on me

And I did not hear those angels sing

No, when I became a mother

There was nothing

They placed a little alien in my arms

And I stared at her, holding her

Trying to breathe in her scent

But I did not feel a thing

I was empty

My heart was hollow

No, when I became a mother

I entered another dimension

One that was lonely

There was no happiness there

No one to tell me what was wrong with me

When I became a mother

I became sad

I couldn’t stop crying

All I wanted to do was sleep

I knew there was something wrong with me

But I couldn’t tell anyone

How could I as a first-time mother?

How could I tell another soul?

My angel face

The child I birthed out of my own body

This being I am supposed to have a spiritual connection to

How could I tell anyone I didn’t love her?

I didn’t want her

When I became a mother

I became depressed

I wanted to die

The color red blurred my vision frequently

The moment you become a mother

Your world is supposed to change

The heavens are supposed to open up

The angels are supposed to sing

Tears of joy are supposed to flow

But not when I became a mother

No, when I became a mother

There was nothing

8 thoughts on “When I Became a Mother

  1. Response to Mother’s Day? I like the poem, and you’re not alone, postpartum depression being pretty common. My mother describes the same feelings about when I was born, when my little sister was born. Infants are generally weird looking and very demanding, so without some kind of hormonal response, it’s hard to bond. People with low serotonin (prevalent with depression) probably have a harder time with it.

    Liked by 1 person

    • A friend of mine wrote a beautiful poem about becoming a mother for the first time. It was precious and joyful. But it made me angry.. and jealous…which was not her intention at all. I could not relate to a word she had to say on the topic. This poem was my response to that, posted late for mothers day.. lol

      Liked by 1 person

      • Mother’s Day is a pain for a lot of people. I’m not very close to my mom. I’ve a friend in prison who killed his mother when he was 15–she was physically, mentally and sexually abusive to him. Not everyone is wired the same or has the same experience. That’s what keeps me writing–the infinite variations in people.

        Liked by 1 person

      • Oh, crap yeah. Those of us who’ve had unstable parents (mine was, too, fighting depression with sex, drugs and rock ‘n’ roll), feel a constant anxiety over repeating patterns. My dad, who was a more stable guy, wasn’t part of my life growing up. So I had this crazy person raising me. It’s terrible to be a kid and have to parent yourself, or even your parents.
        Like you, I have a fair relationship with my mom now, but she’s way different. We don’t ever discuss the past. But I’m still fighting not to become her in my parenting.
        My friend’s mother was something else. A successful business woman with lots of money and this one smart, shy, amiable kid. No one knew what was going on in that 3000 square foot house in a posh neighborhood.

        Liked by 1 person

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