To you, yet unborn, (or born to another mother)
in blood and tears, I longed to be your mother.

You should know I wanted you from the beginning;
there was never a time I didn’t want to be a mother.

I saw you in the clouds from the bus that day,
I knew who you were and knew I was your mother.

I used to stuff the couch pillow in my shirt
to crack up my roommates and act like a mother.

I was the bossy, oldest sister of our family,
so yeah, I was primed to be your mother.

My bones have ached to crack open and bear you,
to push you panting into this world of mothers.

I have smelled your skin, felt your tap on my shoulder;
I have heard you laugh, and heard you call me Mother.

I chose names for you and finally settled on two,
that I’m waiting to bestow, like any mother.

Believe me, I have hoped for you, and I hope
you forgive me for not being your mother.

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