THE NON-PARENT

How many of you out there have kids?

How many of you want kids?  Can’t have kids?  Have lost kids?

Imagine this.  You’re in your early 30’s, and you’ve known for a very long time that you can’t have kids.  Infertile.  You deal with it, and move on.

Then, you meet this guy that doesn’t seem to mind that.  He has a child of his own, and she’s given to you to raise like your own.

So you do.  You guide them.  Teach them.  Love them.  Nurture them.  Reprimand them.  Support them.  Pick up the pieces for them.  Encourage them.  Help them.  Educate them.

You were there for their first day of primary school and high school.  You taught them to eat a meat pie in the bag without spilling it everywhere.  You taught them how to apply make up without looking like a $2 steak-house hooker.  You introduced them to fashion and music of all genre’s.  You introduced them to books, cooking and gardening.

You taught them to survive, whilst learning a lot about yourself along the way.

Then, eleven years later, someone comes along and takes them away.

You have no choice in this.  You have no voice.  You can do nothing, because you’re only a step-parent.  A non-parent.

You’ve nothing biological invested here, so you’re not really taken seriously.  You’ve never been considered a real parent anyway, so what does it matter?  You’re feelings certainly don’t matter, and hurting them is just a bonus to the woman you replaced.  She’s victorious, and you’re nothing but incidental.

You’re a non-parent.

You have no legal rights.  You can stake no claims.  You can’t make the final decision, and you can’t fight a child’s dreams.  Your feelings don’t matter; nothing does.

Because you’re a non-parent.

Everything you have done and built for the last eleven years means nothing now.  It was all for nothing. 

You’ve made many sacrifices for this child that’s not your own, because you treated her as your own, and thought she would be with you forever.

You’re working your arse off to make ends meet, and provide the best you can for your non-child, but that means nothing at the end of the day.  You’ve made up for every single shortfall of her mother, in just about every way, except the most important one; biologically. 

It’s certainly not appreciated by the child, because she’d rather a different life; a life that doesn’t include you.

You have put all of your dreams and ambitions on hold for years and years to accommodate them; and it’s all for nothing now.  A big fat waste of time that’s rewarded you with emptiness and misery.

You’ve done all of the hard work, but you don’t get to see her graduate now.  You don’t get to take her shopping for a formal dress or a graduation dress.  You don’t get to take her to get her hair and make up done.  You don’t get to pose in those dorky family photo’s they take at these fucken functions, because you’re a non-parent, and you don’t count.

You’ve done all the work for someone else, with no reward.  None whatsoever.  There is simply nothing in this for you anymore.

You’ve put your heart out on a platter, and had it completely shattered.

Well done.

People tell you that she’s a credit to you; she’d be fucked if you hadn’t come along, but that doesn’t provide any comfort.

The people that tell you you’re a wonderful mother are just hypocrites, because their actions over the years have indicated just the opposite.  They’ve never been there for you, and never even discussed parenting at any level with you, because they don’t really see you as a real parent. 

That’s because you’re a non-parent.  A step-parent.  They spit the words out like it tastes bitter.

They’re too busy building their own perfect lives to care about you, anyway.  They just stand back and judge what they don’t understand.

They ask if the father is okay and handlings things.  They ask if the child is okay and handling things.  They’re so concerned for the biologicals, which is nice.

They keep telling you that she’ll come crawling back with her tail between her legs, because life is so much better with you.  How the fuck would they know?  It’s just lip service, meant to encourage you, but it doesn’t, because you know in your heart that this’ll never happen.  Pride will stop her ever coming back. 

They keep telling you that she’ll be safe, as long as she knows the door is open for her to return.  You smile wanly, because you can see through their thinly veiled warning.  You better let her come back, because she’s not yours.  You’re the non-parent; it’s not up to you.

Fuck what you want or feel.  You’re a non-parent.  You don’t count.

When they consider asking how you’re going, you simply tell them you’re okay.  You tell everyone you’re fine.  You tell everyone you expected this, which you did, but that doesn’t ease the pain.  You brush it aside because no one really gives a fuck about your heart being ripped to pieces anyway. 

Because you’re a non-parent.  You don’t really have deep feelings for this child; how could you? You’ve no biological investment here. 

Because you’re a non-parent.

When the dust settles; when everything is changed and new, life will move on.  You will pretend like the last eleven years of your life never happened, and you will brace yourself for that moment when someone asks how the child’s going.  When someone asks how the father is doing.  When someone forgets to ask about you.

You will pray this never happens, because if it does, you’ll swear you’ll lose your shit completely.  No one really understands, and it feels like no one really cares.  You feel alone; silent; defeated. 

You just can’t be fucked dealing with it, because ignoring it is more comfortable.  Well, for the time being anyway.

You have nightmares about putting that child on the plane to go.  You fear your heart will actually stopping beating in the middle of the terminal, and laugh at the irony of ‘terminal’.

You can’t imagine life with her gone.  You can’t imagine the pain your partner must be feeling, and you can do nothing about it, because you can’t possibly understand.

Because you’re a non-parent. 

You don’t know what it’s like to have a child. 

Do you?