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Never Good Enough

I was good enough as a piece of meat

By Noel McLeodPublished 7 years ago 7 min read
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All my life, starting so early in my childhood, have I always been made to feel as if I'm not good enough. For anything, from not being good enough at being a child, not good enough to be friends with, not good enough as a sister, not good enough as a daughter, not good enough to be cast aside from my sexual assaulter so he could go after my sister. Not good enough for my biological father and his family to stay in my life, instead if abandoning my mother and I shortly after birth, not good enough for my adopted father to acknowledge me as his own. No, never have I been good enough, but I knew one day I would. From all those years of lack of love, it was building up for when I was a mother. I'd be plenty good enough to my children, and that is what kept me fighting; smiling with my head up high.

As a teen, I was told my body was not good enough to house a baby in my womb. My body would reject my own baby. I went to seek out another doctor, who just told me the same. Again, I was told I was no good, but I didn't let it stop me. I kept on smiling, kept on fighting, I stuffed more love in that beaten up sack of a heart and carried on. I knew there was more ways to become a mother, so what if it wasn't my own or if I could carry it? I knew I would be a mother and give all that love to a little being. I knew I would eventually be good enough.

Then came the sweet age of nineteen. Almost out of those teen years, and finally for once I felt as if I was good enough for the world. My biological father and his family finally came back into my life, my adopted dad saw me as his own. And then I was also good enough but in a bad way. I was good enough as a punching bag, I was good enough as a piece of meat to have teeth sank into my flesh. I was good enough to be thrown around instead of a bag. I was pathetic, but I was still good enough to him. After many years of being cheated on for not being good enough, he chose to stay. He chose to rape me when I couldn't or wouldn't give sex. "At least he's not cheating, it's not rape if he's your boyfriend" is what I would tell my self over the screams from the warrior princess locked deep in my mind. And then the day came when he too, felt like I was not good enough and cheated. That warrior busted out of her dungeon, and almost like a split personality, took over. She ended it, and briskly carried away the pathetic, weak me before I could beg for him back.

A short period of time after, I was told the unimaginable. "You're pregnant, very pregnant in fact." I couldn't believe my ears. I was 4 and a half months pregnant, and with a baby boy to boot. I always wanted a boy first, but the fear of my body rejecting the baby rolled over the joy. My body did try to reject, but that baby boy had a fighter in him just like his mama. I went through pain, heart ache and break, and oh gosh the morning sickness never let up (why do they call it morning sickness when it literally happens at any time of the day??). I'd lay in bed and play songs for him I knew he liked just so he would stop jumping around in there and let me sleep. I'd run my fingers over my stomach right where he would be kicking or punching and feel the little outlines of his feet or hands. I'd talk to him as if he was in the room, having a one sided conversation. In the darkest parts of the night, I'd whisper my forever promises and protections. I'd tell him about all the love he was going to receive in a tatted old sack, how I've collected all this love for just him. Sometime near the end, my biological father decided once more I wasn't good enough and left my life again. Oh well, who needs him? I have this baby on the way; he's all I need.

Then the day came, the day my body rejecting him. My baby doctor said I had to be induced and soon, but it was going to be alright. He was 39 weeks, he would be good enough to be born without there being consequences (for those of you who don't know, after 37 weeks of gestation, it is perfectly safe to give birth and not classified as premature) and so I happily agreed. I was going to meet him soon, get to finally hold him and kiss him, and I knew if I didn't do it, I would lose him so of course I was willing to do it and happily. I was also just like every mother at that stage of pregnancy; just so done with being fat and pregnant and having to see every 15 seconds. I felt like it was a winning spree for all parties present.

So it began, my labour. And it suked. All horror stories you hear of, is true. Believe every word of what is told, and even then it won't prepare you enough for what will really happen. With that being said, I felt like I was a rock star (I felt like one all the way up till I had my second child, when I knew what a real rock star was meaning having to give birth with no pain meds what so ever). I'd walk the halls and hear women just screaming, and yet when I had a contraction, I would just squeeze my eyes and squeeze/ break anything that was in my hands. No screams from me. When I had to walk and bring the labour on, I'd walk with head held up high and the biggest smile on my face no matter if I was having a contraction or not. I took the epidural like a pro, didn't move and in and out in one shot. I threw up a lot, but I was use to that. It came time to push, and that's when I failed. I couldn't, No matter how much I tried I just couldn't. I heard the nurses say to one another about a possible c-section or the vacuum if I continued on the way I was. No, this is one thing I'm not going to be not good enough at. And so I pushed harder and harder with still no luck. And just when I was about to give up, and accept I wasn't good enough, I threw up. And a lot. And hard. And then I felt a thump on my stomach and it was him. He was blue and not making a sound but I saw his eyes. Hos eyes locked onto mine and in those 5 seconds, my world stopped and everyone disappeared and it was just him and I. The nurses snatched him away before I could get my hand to his face, and the doctor was busy stitching me up as he ripped me pretty good. I kept looking over to see what was going on, and frantically looking at my mother (which for the reacord, was holding my one leg up as I was too short and couldn't keep my foot on the sternups. She also got a front row seat at the gory ordeal) who was right behind the nurses. He wasn't making any noise still, but she assured me he was alright. Finally after what seemed like forever, and the doctor was finally done with stitching me up, I could hold my baby. My sweet little baby.

Finally, I was good enough for something. That little, warm body just curled right into me, and I folded mine around his. Only hours old, he held his head up and placed his face against mine, the nurses couldn't believe it, they never saw something like that before. That tiny human picked me to be his mother, he picked me. I was good enough to him. I would soon become his world, as he was already mine.

I was good enough to finally be loved.

I was good enough.

Always be positive

I don't know the author of this, but I did not write it. It's something I found when pregnant and always kept it. I read it when I need the extra nudge to stay positive

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About the Creator

Noel McLeod

I am a mother of two beautiful boys, I have always had a passion in writing. I write mostly poetry, but do like making stories/blog posts.

Feel free to check my poetry (free)

https://www.poetrysoup.com/me/Christmas

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