I Am Not A Mom

 No Mother's Day brunch,

or handmade gift shall I receive.

I long for the love of a child,

but I can only grieve.

I am not a mom.

Friends old and new,

once single like me.

Married with families,

content to let me be "aunty."

But I am not a mom.

Some may choose to not be one,

but the choice was ripped from my hands.

I wanted but can never have,

the one thing that was part of my plans.

I will still never be a mom.

Every year in May,

I weep for the loss.

It is the overwhelming sadness,

that is my cross.

I cannot be a mom.

Am I jealous,

you could say yes.
But I squelch my envy

because it just makes me stress.

I wish I was a mom.

I hear others say

but you are one really.

Just a different kind,

perhaps more ideally.

I could be a mom.

But I am still sad,

and will never hide it.

A part of me is missing

more than I care to admit.

No...I am not a mom.

For those of you like me, I understand...

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