Waiting for Spring in Antarctica

     Missing you is a clenched fist in my stomach. It’s a tighness that pulls at my heart and crumples me into a ball, fetal position head in hands. Missing you is waiting for the spring in Antarctica.
      It’s an endless winter in my heart, it doesn’t snow, just freezes over, when I try to stand up and take a step in the right direction I slip and I’m reminded that standing right now is pointless. I have to wait for the ice to thaw but I’m not sure if what I’m standing on covers land or water.
     Maybe by the time I’m ready to get up it will be spring and I’ll find myself drowning when the ice breaks from under me. I would be relieved to find myself drowning. I don’t say that to worry anyone, I promise not to take my own life, but right now that’s how I’m feeling, like I’d find relief in drowning.
     Mom’s like me aren’t allowed relief I’m afraid. Normal mom’s get breaks once in a while, nights that they can leave their precious child in the care of someone else while they enjoy themselves knowing thier baby is in good hands. Yes, they never truly get to relax, they might call the sitter too many times, but they know it won’t be long before they see those bright eyes and kiss those soft chubby cheeks. All I can think about is how I’ll never see her bright eyes again, no more chubby cheeks for this mama to kiss.
     This is not the life I was supposed to live this isn’t the life anyone was supposed to live. Somehow, I’m still here and I’m still living it. Everyday I’m still here and I’m still living this…  Nothing will ever take this pain away, they say time heals all wounds but I fear it won’t heal this one.
     This wound is too deep and jagged for time to ever heal completely. It reminds me of someone else’s physical wound, one that years later still looks red and painful. She tells me it gets better but then it opens back up. She see’s a doctor every week for it and gets treatment at home,  time hasn’t healed her wound.
     Mine is like that except I don’t have a doctor who can heal me, there is no special ointment or honey that will make this go away. It hurts constantly and it hasn’t even made the slightest effort to seal itself. I may look normal to the outside observer but if they could see the state of my heart and the thoughts in my mind they would know I’m anything but.