The Unexpected Path

Chapter 31 - Lizzie

I've always had shitty luck when it comes to motherhood.

It wasn't enough that my birth mother abandoned me the literal day I was born. No. I had to struggle with infertility for four years. It was ironic in so many ways. My birth mother couldn't wait to be rid of me so I promised myself I would never abandon my child, only to be met with failed pregnancy after failed pregnancy.

I've wanted to be a mother all my life. When I married Mason at the ripe age of twenty-four, I wanted to get pregnant right away. He was pushing on thirty-four so he agreed without hesitation. I remember thinking it was so ideal that the two of us worked like that. Fuck the ten year age gap. I knew he was meant for me.

But a small part of me questioned it when we tried for months and months. Those months turned into a year. Then two years. IVF's and hormonal treatments dragged into year three. It tore our marriage apart and put us to the test. I couldn't help but wonder if maybe I was never meant to be a mother. What if the universe knew I'd abandon my child just like my birth mother abandoned me?

I should have hated motherhood. I should have tried to stay away from it altogether given my luck. But the one and only thing that always kept me going was my adoptive mother.

She taught me that being a mother doesn't come down to blood. She taught me that our pasts don't define us or who we are. She taught me that if you are abandoned, it's only because someone else was always meant to take that place. She has always been my mother and she always will be. Emily.

I watch her now with my heart stuck in my throat. In just one month, she went from thriving and making progress...to this.

In one month the cancer attacked her body like a hungry predator. The breast cancer spread to her lungs and lymph nodes and took such a strong hold that the treatment could be considered pathetic. Nothing is working. Nothing is helping. She's been fighting so hard and getting absolutely nowhere. Her frame has shrunk down, collarbone protruding and cheeks hollow. She's lost all her hair, constantly sporting a bandana. She's so weak she can barely stay awake for more than half an hour every so often. We're losing her. I'm losing the only mother I ever had when I'm just a month away from becoming one myself.

So yeah, shitty luck with motherhood.

It's hard not to be angry. It's hard not to question if something is wrong with you and that maybe you deserve all this. It's hard to look on the bright side when all that's waiting ahead is a dark road as your only way out. They all promise sunshine is on the other side but what if the darkness swallows you whole before you get there? What if you become part of it and drag everyone else down with you? What if the people who have been consumed by the darkness promise you the sun just so they can snatch you up and take you with them?

I used to believe the doctors when they told me to have hope. I believed it when they said I would get pregnant and I believed it when they promised me my mother wouldn't die. I cup my pregnant stomach, wondering if I was only allowed to have one or the other. And if that's the case, would Mom be okay if I didn't get pregnant?

It's a dark thought but all of my thoughts have been dark lately. It's hard not to feel that way so I've simply stopped fighting it. I've let it snatch me up, just like they wanted. I just hope I won't do the same to someone else.

I look up when I hear the door to Mom's room open. Dad walks in carrying two styrofoam cups with steam coming out of them. I'm tempted to ask if both are for him. He looks like he's hanging by a thread. Dad has always been handsome with his rugged looks and even more rugged attitude. Age has only made him better but these days he looks defeated. Still handsome, but defeated.

"Hey, baby girl," He croaks. Lately that's what his voice sounds like. He thinks we can't tell but we know it's because the few moments he's alone, he spends crying. I know he's trying to be strong for us and I know he hasn't been the same father since Mom was diagnosed but I don't fault him.