The Other Woman

For a few months now I've mothered you both so you wouldn't have to go without a Mother's loving touch. I've kissed boo boos, read books, and served meals. I've snuggled, rocked, and washed dirty underwear. I've fought for you, and sometimes with you. I've braided hair, clipped fingernails, and learned how to do a faux hawk. All the while knowing that we're just bidding time. This happy little family we've made is just smoke and mirrors. A brightly colored bandaid doing precious little to distract you from the hurt for a short while.

Crocodile tears flow freely. Plunking down your chubby little cheeks. You cry your goodbyes when you have to return to me and all you want to do is stay with her.

I get it.

Goodbye's hurt.

They cut deep.

I kinda sorta want to scream and cry too; soon you won't have to come back to me.

It's about that time again.

The tide is turning.

The one ray of sunshine in this cloudy sky is you won't have to cry your goodbyes any more.

It will be my turn.

My turn to say goodbye,

let go,

and walk away.

This time for good.

I will gladly and boldly live wounded with the scars.

Bleed out for you.

So that you don't have to.

You're worth it sweet girl. You're worth it silly boy.

I'll soak up these last few weeks and promise to always love you from afar. For you were never meant to be here. I'm just the other woman. Holding space for the one for whom your heart beats.