The Catch

 
I remember being introduced to this thing on our way back from fishing at Lake Ganonoque in Spring. Her debate took form in complimenting her perfect partnering with someone as stable as I. Growing a family was her need, you can see how she hooked me, saw no issue, though it all threw me still wanting to stay silent; my own parents knew nothing of my shifting sexuality. They soon found out, I came out, we sought donors quickly all because of her maternal instinct.
There was no suspecting when she was expecting the implications that manifest were beyond our medical understanding. Postpartum, they call it, she called it her mind-hum, more like mind-numbing it seemed grief had gripped her suddenly you and I become strangers to her. All difficult: the colic, the restless nights, the change of pace. I prepared for that, she couldn’t; I was surprisingly unfazed. She carried away in a bus, left with everything of hers, but us. I was left with her biology in a baby that is genetically not an ounce of me; through time you became mine. And with you I’m still near her, the smile and those eyes; it’s all here in our place when I forever gaze upon her most important life-change. With all that we’ve gone through I work hard not to resent you, please forgive me, I love you, and I want to unsee her when I look at your beautiful, and utterly innocent face.