Worth A Thousand (Completed 5/14/22)

[Flyingsquirrel]

Wow this story is so heavy but very unique. It's hard not to be drawn into what's going on. I am fully invested in this story, can't wait for the next installment. 

Although I know that her mkm will end up okay in the end I'm still on the edge of my seat. I really like how in the last two chapters you have weaved in the scenes with Fiona. It feels like a natural flow of things. 

[TheUnknownAuthor]

9 hours ago, Flyingsquirrel said:

Wow this story is so heavy but very unique. It's hard not to be drawn into what's going on. I am fully invested in this story, can't wait for the next installment. 

Although I know that her mkm will end up okay in the end I'm still on the edge of my seat. I really like how in the last two chapters you have weaved in the scenes with Fiona. It feels like a natural flow of things. 

Thank you so much, I'm glad you're enjoying it!

it's funny, this story, moreso than anything else I've written, I find myself pulling back more often than not in the things that happen. I've had quite a bit of anxiety as to whether the gravity of mom's situation is getting through as strongly as I want it to without gutting everyone emotionally with too much awful stuff.

I've always wanted this story to be intertwining the mother and daughter journey without it being weirder than it needs to be or turning into something hyper unrealistic and it seems like I'm pulling it off for the most part, so I'm very pleased.

Thank you so much for taking the time to share your thoughts and for reading my story in the first place, it means quite a lot to me.

[ItsYourBoi]

This story really is something else. I even forgot it was fiction at one point

[TheUnknownAuthor]

10 minutes ago, ItsYourBoi said:

This story really is something else. I even forgot it was fiction at one point

Wow, thank you for that! I've been trying to stay as grounded as possible with this story, which isn't as easy as I thought it was going to be, but I'm pleased to hear that it's going pretty well.

[TheUnknownAuthor]

VII

“Lisa 10/15/78 – 3/25/86”

 

“It’s not an exaggeration to say that Lisa saved my life. That night on the phone she quickly calmed me down and instructed me to get to an emergency room, assuring me repeatedly that she would find me and come and get me. She called me “baby” and it made things better, I called her “Mommy” and it made things better, and even though I left that phone booth physically still alone and helpless, she was with me in my heart and my mind and I moved beyond the bridge that I thought would end my life, wrapped in her love as I had been in what felt like a previous life.

 

I spent three days in the hospital before I woke up to her beside my bed holding my hand in hers. She’d been crying, her eyes puffy and red, but there wasn’t any sadness in her gaze when she looked at me, despite the years and the distance, she looked at me now the same way she had when we were last together, and the sheer fact that anyone could look at me as I was now and find anything to love was enough to reduce me to a blubbering mess of tears and snot that she quickly and lovingly quelled by climbing into the bed with me and holding me in her arms as she gave me a pacifier from her purse to suck on.

 

After my time in the other hospital, I was on edge being in this one. The smell was the biggest problem for me, the cleaning products they used made everything so sterile and cold, before Lisa arrived I’d lay curled up in a ball in the bed, hiding under the blankets like I’d done as a little girl when the monster in the closet became a more concerning threat when my imagination went too far. Every nurse that came in was not to be trusted, despite their gentle tones and impeccable care, the other foot was out there somewhere, and I was ready for it to drop on me, ready to be strapped to the bed and abused, ready to tumble down the rabbit hole of lucidity that made dreams real and nightmares fact.

 

When Lisa proved she was staying with me in the hospital, she took her time with me, patiently doling out breadcrumbs of information about what was going to happen when I was released. She talked to me like a mother would her child, small sentences with an easy to follow narrative broken up by feedings, cuddles, naps, diaper changes, and reassurances that she would return whenever she needed to leave the room. The frequent departures were, as she explained, something we’d talk about when I was doing better, the sores on my feet from walking the streets the night I called her keeping me bed ridden, my addiction making me sick more often than not and prone to outbursts that she was somehow able to quell as easily as a mother talking her tantruming toddler down from a nap protest.

 

By the time I was released from the hospital, I’d detoxed and had started to regain weight, and Lisa set up appointments to get the rest of me back on track. The dentist fixed my teeth, pulling my remaining six and crafting impressively real looking fakes for me to wear, a special doctor fixed the damage Gus had done to my bottom with his regular attention to my backside and gave me more awareness of when I was pooping even though I was still unable to keep from letting go when my body felt the need. She took me shopping for lovely clothes that were nicer than anything I’d ever owned up to that point, took me to the salon to fix my badly damaged hair and nails, and by the end of it all I felt like I’d regained a portion of what I’d lost, but the outer facade was flimsy and easily broke apart when I filled my diaper on the way back to the car and wailed like an infant until my pacifier was placed between my lips and Mommy resolved the issue.

 

It’s incredibly difficult to articulate what my mental and emotional state was like in that time, I knew I was an adult, I remembered graduating from high school and traveling across the country on my own, but at the same time, those memories seemed to become so distant when a regressive episode occurred that I could hardly be blamed for forgetting that I wasn’t a larger than average baby in the care of her Mommy, dependent on her for everything. I didn’t seek that feeling out, or consciously decide it would happen, my brain flipped a switch when faced with a hurdle a baby would be unable to overcome, such as unconsciously messing their diaper, the emotional response became proportionate to the developmental level of the problem, and thus a woman in her late twenties waddled through a parking lot, led by the hand by another woman her age and had her diaper changed on the backseat of the car as she sucked her pacifier.

 

Lisa never judged me for these outbursts, her interaction with me was as fluid as my mental maturity, when I was in control of my emotions and faculties, she was my peer and very clearly still in love with me, and when I had a regressive episode, she was my patient and loving Mommy, slipping seamlessly into a cheery and bubbly demeanor to soothe my tantrums, always prepared with a pacifier or bottle or stuffed animal despite not having needed those things over the course of the day. As in love with me as she clearly still was when we were equals, my love for her was immeasurable when I did slip back to babyhood, she was the light of my life, my everything, and the simple gurgling and prattling behind my pacifier never felt like enough was being said to convey that to her, but she always kissed my forehead and told me that she loved me too, so I guess it was working on some level.”

 

A calm washed over me as I read of my mother’s salvation and the return of her beloved Lisa. It felt like so much negativity and abuse had been endured by my mother that it was a genuine relief to see her safe and looked after, though it was more than a little alarming to know how damaged she’d become after everything that had happened, but I knew that she would end up fine and allowed myself to relax and enjoy the heartwarming ride.

 

“One day, when we were equals, she sat down with me and asked me a simple question, “Would you be happy living with me?”. I was beyond surprised, assuming that our time together was simply to right a wrong or balance the scales between us, a gesture on her part to make amends for her guilt that she may be somehow, at least in part, responsible for everything that had happened to me after our time together in Florida. I of course quickly confirmed that something like that would be amazing, my mental age slipping just enough to babble on about Disney World and how exciting it would be to see it once again. She was all smiles as I went on, her hand resting lovingly on mine when she’d heard enough, and she clarified that she meant here, not in Florida. She explained that she’d been having a house built just for us, a place where we could live together in whatever kind of relationship we wanted.

 

I lived with Lisa in her penthouse room at the nicest hotel I’d ever stayed at while the house she was building for us was completed. This period was something of a rekindling of our former relationship, but also a cementing of the Mommy and baby bond that was developing between us since she’d returned to my life. Her fluidity was on display daily, waking up with me in the morning and gauging where I was emotionally before proceeding with any planned activity, if I was my normal self, we’d share a shower and explore the physical aspects of our adult relationship, if I was little, she’d get me into the tub and lovingly bathe me. These things seemed imperceptibly easy for her from my perspective, not once did I catch her hesitating or appearing frustrated if a sexual encounter was spoiled by a regressive episode, and it was her fluidity and ability to handle any and every situation that helped me to experience fewer and fewer of those episodes as we were together all day every day for months on end.

 

As she cared for me when I needed her to be Mommy, she was also someone to talk to about the things I’d experienced and work through my trauma’s in a safe space that allowed for cuddles when I needed them and Mommy and baby time when talks got particularly difficult to handle. When she broached the subject of toilet training, I was so beholden to her that I readily agreed and listened as she explained what I might feel before I needed to go to the bathroom, the knowledge that I had been, at one point, completely capable of using the toilet without issue for almost two decades seemed to have left my memory and I merely listened intently and felt resolute in making her proud of me and getting out of diapers.

 

By the time our house was finished, I was mostly day trained except for long trips and times when bathrooms weren’t as readily available. Overnight had gone largely unchanged, though I hadn’t woken up messy in weeks which was a definite cause for celebration. She’d suggested, and I’d agreed, that I wear a diaper to go look at the house, her concern that I’d be so excited and preoccupied that I might forget to go to the bathroom was a fair assessment, and her reassurance that if I did remember to go she would help me out of my diaper and plastic panties to keep my success rate intact.

 

The drive to the house was quiet, I’d long since given up needing a pacifier or my thumb when I was nervous, her hand holding mine kept the fluttering in my stomach at bay. My mind was working overtime, the little side of me envisioning a castle like structure like the one’s in the bedtime stories she read to me while the rational adult side of me wondered just how lavish she’d chosen to go with our house, the extravagant penthouse we’d been living in bleeding into the vision of what I was expecting.

 

The house was gorgeous, a single story with three bedrooms and two bathrooms that was a short walk to a park with a lovely lake.”

 

I stared at the page, blinking stupidly at it. This was the house that Lisa had built for her and my mother! The house I’d grown up in was the home of my mother and her Mommy and I’d not only never even heard of Lisa, but the story my mother had told me was that she’d bought the house from a widow that was moving in with her kids somewhere upstate. I beamed happily at learning that this house had been full of love before I’d been born and that my mother had been happy and safe in it, growing up, it seemed, as I had within its walls.

 

“The big bedroom was for Lisa and I to be grownups, our love blossomed into something akin to a marriage there, nights spent beside one another, sometimes talking, sometimes reading, sometimes just quiet, but always together and always in love. The bedroom near that was my nursery, furnished with a crib and changing table as well as a closet full of outfits that made me outwardly look as little as I felt inside, a safe space Lisa would allow me to enter if I asked politely or if she saw a need for me to be there, like the day when a letter arrived telling me my father had died or the day not one year later when a similar letter came about my mother. I never went to their funerals, that was something a daughter would do, and they’d made it abundantly clear I wasn’t that to them any longer, instead, I spent those days with Mommy, being doted on and cared for as if I were her daughter, and the emotional storm subsided quickly each time and when the time came to leave the nursery and enjoy the evening with Lisa, I did so without hesitation.

 

The third bedroom was a kind of catch all room for a long while, Lisa mostly sewed clothes to be added to the closet in the nursery in there, but it was more or less unused, until Lisa broached the subject of having a baby one night in bed. I astutely pointed out that we were both missing a key component that would create said baby, and she lovingly explained everything she’d been reading about a medical procedure that would allow us to have a baby together.”

 

I shot off the bed and paced around the room, my mind going over the timeline of events. Was the reason I’d never met my dad or even heard my mother speak of him because he never existed? Was Lisa my other mother? I hurried back to the bed to continue reading.

 

“The subject of having a baby came and went periodically over the months and years, the part of me that loved the idea of having a baby with the woman I loved was kept at bay by the jealous little side of me that began acting up whenever Lisa began talking about it. I didn’t want to be a brat, didn’t want to force her to baby me in some misguided attempt to satiate her maternal desires with my own adult infancy, but nevertheless, she’d bring up having a baby and I’d have an accident or suddenly become cranky or clingy, and every time she would lead me by the hand to the nursery and take care of me as she had been doing for years.

 

When she finally reached the point of forcing me to have the conversation, ignoring my wet pants and silencing my whines with a pacifier while keeping me on the chair she’d sat me on and denying me cuddles, she handled it as deftly as she handled everything else, calmly assuring me that her desire to have a baby with me wasn’t an attempt to replace me as her baby but to give us something we created together, a life that would continue our legacy after we died, a life that might have children of his or her own that we might see and be as proud of as we were of our own son or daughter. She gently took my hand in hers and looked at me with the love of a spouse and asked me to simply meet with the doctor and learn about the procedure, I agreed, we kissed and then I got a spanking for being such a brat.”

 

I fumbled with my phone and hurriedly typed, deleted, typed, deleted and typed again a string of exclamation points and capital letters that vaguely let Florence know that I had two moms and was thus way more gay than her and punctuated it with an emoji sticking its tongue out and then a kitty emoji. To which she responded with a string of obscenities and threats of proving just how much gayer than me she truly was once she arrived followed by congratulations on having two moms and a request that I explain how that happened when we next spoke. I adore that woman, she just gets me.

 

“The meeting with the doctor was more confusing for me than I think Lisa thought or hoped it would be. I’d been a fully functioning adult for years now, my slips to babyish behavior now only conscious ones when I wanted to play with her as Mommy, but sitting in the doctor’s office with her holding my hand as the doctor used incredibly large and unfamiliar words, wielding them like a club to beat me into a mental stupor with, I found myself gently squeezing her hand and feeling like the nursery would need to be our first stop when we returned home. When I did look away from the doctor to her, I saw her listening intently, a warm smile on her face as the daydream of a baby we’d had together played out behind her eyes, she was happy with what she was hearing, and I defaulted to a place where I was happy as long as she was happy.

 

She bent the rules that night for my sake, and climbed into the crib with me and cuddled me from behind as she untangled the mess of jargon the doctor had buried me in. She made the procedure he’d droned on about make sense and took the fear and apprehension from me and replaced it with reassurance and calm with every gentle stroke of my hair and rock of our bodies as she spoke to me in a tone that maintained our equality but targeted the scared and uncertain little girl within me. By the time she was changing my diaper so we could go to bed for the night in our room, I was in complete agreement that we would give the procedure a try and that I would carry our baby if it worked.”

 

If swooning is an actual thing that exists and not just something made up for old timey plays and stories, I was absolutely swooning for my mother and Lisa’s pseudo marriage. The fact that if they were going through today what they were going through then meant that they’d be not only the sweetest couple I’d ever personally known, but also a template for what I wanted Florence and I to become, the difference thirty plus years could make for them would’ve allowed them to be legally married and not just feeling they were in their hearts, though a piece of paper didn’t make what they had any more or less beautiful, they deserved what straight couples had.

 

“The procedure was actually pretty simple, the doctor would take an egg from Lisa and fertilize it with an anonymous sperm donor’s sperm, well, anonymous to me, Lisa had picked someone out from thousands of candidates to make sure the person she picked would give us strong traits in our baby, and then put the fertilized egg into my uterus. The first try yielded a positive pregnancy test, and Lisa’s smile infected me as we hugged and cried together in joy that our dream was going to become a reality.

 

Lisa’s coughing started a month after we saw the doctor and confirmed we were in fact pregnant, she dismissed it as a lingering cold when it not only persisted but started getting worse, coming more from the chest than the throat, and only after I begged her to see a doctor did she finally leave one afternoon to satisfy my wishes. When she returned from the doctor many hours later, I knew something was wrong, she was pale as a sheet and had obviously been crying, but she blamed allergies and simply asked that we lay together in bed.

 

By the time I started showing, my belly protruding slightly enough to give me an adorable bump beneath my tops, she was hiding the bloody tissues that she’d been coughing into at the bottom of the trashcan, lying to me regularly about her ability to continue doing the things she always did, pushing herself daily to ensure that I was taken care of and worrying me more and more each day with her lack of communication. I finally stood up to her, something I’d never done, and demanded that she talk to me about what was happening, and the world fell apart when she did.”

 

I wiped my eyes and cursed whatever force decided that my mother’s happiness was public enemy number one to the world at large and had devised an insidious plan to raise her up to the highest level of joy she’d experienced in her life before setting fire to the life she’d built.

 

“I was numb when she said the word, the sound of it reverberating in my head and heart like a ricocheting bullet, “Cancer”, the capitalization here being intentional on my part, a recognition of the thing as something deserving of a proper name, earning the capitalization as an offering of appeasement if Lisa were spared having to fight with something so awful and unfair. We became two sides of the same coin, she and I growing something inside our bodies, mine a new life full of promise and wonder and love and joy, while hers was a darkness that sought to rob her and I and our baby of all of that by siphoning everything in her worth devouring and leaving her an empty shell of the woman I loved.

 

I spent weeks thinking of the vacations we’d taken together, sex with her on the same beach she’d watched her baby girl build a sandcastle on earlier in the day, nightclubs blasting music in other languages while we danced together and kissed, our sweaty bodies planning on entwining with one another once we got back to our hotel, happier moments than I believed I deserved and would forever be grateful for her giving them to me and sharing them with me. While I reminisced, she got weaker, as our baby grew within me, kicking and growing stronger, the fight drained out of her, she spent more and more time in bed, struggling to get restful sleep as the coughing came harder and more frequently.

 

Our roles began to reverse the weaker she got and the more my hormones paved the way for me to become a mother. Her frailty allowed me to handle her feedings and bathing, the spread of the cancer caused her to struggle to make it to the bathroom, and I handled her diapering and the cleanup of her various messes. As her faculties began to diminish, I began to talk to her in those small, easy to understand words coated in maternal love that she’d used to help we when I was sick and frightened, she became my final test of adulthood and impending motherhood, giving me the last thing I needed to allow my little side to leave me and be replaced by someone that had learned from the absolute best what it meant to be a mother and a strong, capable woman.

 

Madeline was born a little less than a year before Lisa passed, and I will forever be grateful that Lisa got a chance to meet our daughter and share at least some time with the life she’d created with me.”

 

I spent a few hours on the phone with Florence, mostly crying once I’d finished the journal page and looked at the pictures that accompanied it. Every picture was of my mother and Lisa together and happy, various countries acted as a backdrop for their love, beach smiles, mountain kisses, forest cuddling, all of it a tapestry woven with threads of love and understanding, of give and take and mutual respect every step of the way. My mother never spoke to me about Lisa, and that broke my heart, not because Lisa was every bit my mother as my mother was, but because this woman had had such a profound impact on her life and saved her life and, by my mother’s own admission, made her the woman I knew her to be, and it confused and hurt me to think that she felt, at best, that she couldn’t share such a weighty tale with me, and at worst didn’t think I would approve of everything I’d read, but then why leave the box and everything in it in the first place?

 

After I’d gotten off the phone with Florence and calmed down, I packed the journal pages and photos back into their envelope and sighed wearily when I saw a final envelope inside the box with my name written on the front in my mother’s handwriting, this one pink and more in line with an envelope for a card rather than the manila ones that had come before.

 

“Maddy,

 

If you’re reading this then I am grateful that you kept an open mind about my life. I’m sure you have a multitude of questions, and I’m sorry that I’m not there to answer them, but I think I can help you without you needing to ask anything.

 

I wanted to tell you about Lisa, about our relationship and her relation to you, but she made me promise not to for fear that you would spend the rest of your life trying to find out who she was and drive yourself to learn about her as a way to validate aspects of yourself. She was convinced, and I agree, that everyone deserves to become the person they are meant to be without preconceived notions based on heritage. You’re not interested in diapers because I was any more than you’re interested in women because we were, but I do regret not talking to you about some things when I saw the signs that you shared my tendencies, I know you found your own path in life, but I feel that were I to have given you guidance and insight when you were younger, you might have been further along in your understanding of yourself as a woman than you are now.

 

As you may have guessed, the journal pages in this box are segments of a whole, the rest of the journals are somewhere safe and are one of the things I’m leaving to you now that I’m gone. If you look behind the books to the left of the second shelf of the bookshelf in my room, you’ll find a lock that the key in this envelope opens, inside the room beyond you’ll find an updated nursery for you to explore if you’re inclined to, and inside the safe behind the crib you’ll find all of my journals and photos as well as a letter from Lisa and your inheritance. Suffice to say, your mother’s have made sure you’ll have a very comfortable life going forward.

 

I know you’re sad for having lost me, and sadder learning that you lost a mother you never knew you had, but look at the pictures of all of us together when you were a baby and I guarantee you that you’ll come to understand that the love we had for you was complete and total and maybe that can be enough to allow you to be happy despite all of this sadness you’re feeling.

 

Love,

Mom”

 

I took the key and hurried to the main bedroom, my vision blurred with tears, my face wet with the same, and found the lock and opened the door, my eyes as big as dinner plates at the size and scope of the nursery within. How I’d never realized the room existed was beyond me, but as I walked past the changing table, my fingers running along the padded top, the neatly folded stacks of cloth diapers beneath, I felt a calm wash over me, a warm embrace from my mother’s now gone that made me feel like they were with me, watching over their baby girl with love.

 

I squatted in front of the safe behind the head of the crib and worked the dial to the numbers on the sticky note on the front of the safe and pulled the handle down with a satisfying thunk sound before opening the door and picking up another pink envelope with my name on it, the handwriting different but no less elegant and sat down on my diapered butt with a dull thud as I pulled the letter within out.

 

“Madeline,

 

I have so much hope for your future that it hurts. I’ve seen your mother grow from the girl I went to school with to the woman I love in our years together, and I know that she will raise you to be as strong and smart and radiant as she is.

 

I knew from the moment I met your mother that I loved her, cliché, I know, but she has that effect, and you clearly inherited that from her as the moment I laid eyes on you in the hospital I knew that you were the most perfect person I’d ever seen.

 

I’m sorry that I won’t be there to see you grow up, to kiss your scraped knees or reassure you that a boy pulling your hair isn’t necessarily a sign that he hates you, to see you in your prom dress or walk you down the aisle on your wedding day, but I’ve seen those things in my dreams and I will be there with you in spirit.

 

I know it hurts you to know that you never had a relationship with me, but I also know that we are not our parents. You will be your own woman just as your mother and I were our own women, and I know that no matter what you choose to do with your life you will be extraordinary at it because you are your mothers’ daughter, and we are two amazing women, even if I do say so myself.

 

Love always,

Mom”

 

I hugged the letter and slumped to the floor in a fetal position and sobbed until I tired myself out and fell asleep, waking some time later and a great deal wetter with another feeling of calm filling me up and making me rise to my feet as I set the letter back down in the safe and pulled my phone out to take and send a picture to Florence of the nursery she and I would be enjoying not long from now. I wrote out a few messages to accompany the photo and deleted them, sending it along without saying anything, secure in the knowledge that a picture was worth a thousand words.

 

 

Epilogue

 

The car headed through the open gates and I sucked nervously on the pacifier clipped to the bib of my light pink overalls, the significant bulge of how ever many layers of cloth diapers Florence had pinned in place around my hips straining against the snaps in the crotch of the overalls, the lemon yellow plastic panties peeking through the gap between the snaps in the overalls and the snaps of the lavender onesie she’d put on me. I’d left the house damp, but the anxiety I was feeling on the drive had ensured that that dampness had grown considerably, not that I was complaining about the warmth encircling my bottom and privates.

 

She was driving, she always drove, teasing me that as a baby, it was ridiculous to think I could drive a car, but as a “rich as fuck” baby, it was wildly inappropriate for me to handle such a pedestrian task on my own, best to let her handle such trivial things. She’d looked back at me in the mirror beside her head a few times since we left the house, but this time she reached back and gave my knee a gentle pat.

 

“Doing okay, kiddo?” she asked.

 

I nodded and turned away from the window to meet her gaze, “Yes, Mommy.” I said, my voice going to that slightly higher and littler pitch that seemed to melt her heart and lubricate her Mommy parts in equal measure.

 

We went around a slight bend in the narrow road and pulled over to the side before she parked the car and shut off the engine, unbuckling her seatbelt before she turned to her side and faced me. “Want me to come with you?” she asked.

 

I reached up and plucked the pacifier from my mouth, “I do, but not this time.” I said in my normal tone of voice, “I need to introduce myself before I introduce you.” I told her.

 

She nodded her understanding, “I’m here if you need me.” she said warmly, her smile carrying the love I needed to push myself to unbuckle my seatbelt, open my door and step out into the real world as my little self.

 

I kept my head bowed, out of respect for the somberness of the cemetery, but also to avoid accidentally locking eyes with anyone else that may be visiting a loved one and making them feel uncomfortable. As I walked, legs spread wider than I would’ve liked, my plastic panties crackled beneath my overalls and I fought the urge to pick the pacifier back up and put it in my mouth before toddling back to the safety of the car, but sooner than I realized, I was standing before the stone trapezoid with my mother’s name on it sticking out of the ground.

 

I lowered myself to a squat, wanting to sit or kneel but not wanting to get in trouble for grass stains on my pretty overalls, and placed the small bunch of yellow and white flowers I’d picked from the garden in the backyard of the house in front of the headstone.

 

“Hi, mom.” I said quietly, sighing heavily, “I feel silly doing this, I mean, I don’t even know if I believe in an afterlife or Heaven or whatever, but I figured that if there’s a chance that you might be able to see me or understand what I’m saying, that maybe I’d better go the whole nine yards.” I said to the headstone. I smiled, “I guess if you can see me then you’ve already seen Florence with me too, but I promise she’ll come up with me next time.” I said.

 

The wind blew gently behind me, the smell of flowers and fresh air carrying the scent of baby powder up from beneath me.

 

“So, I guess you can tell I’ve been making use of the nursery.” I said. “Florence has been an absolute freak about making me wear every single outfit and diaper combination since she got here.” I added. “She’s got quite the photo album built up in your honor, and once she moves here in the Fall, I’m sure she’ll have an entire bookshelf filled up before long.” I continued.

 

A bird chirped in a nearby tree and leaves fell as a squirrel ran across a branch.

 

“This is a really nice spot you got.” I said, looking over at the tree and smiling at the little bench nestled in the shade beneath its canopy. I sniffled and wiped my eyes, “I miss you, Mommy.” I said suddenly, my lip quivering as I tried to contain my emotions.

 

The crunching of leaves behind me made me turn quickly, sending me plopping to the ground on my butt, Florence kneeling behind me a moment later with her hands on my shoulders. “I know what you said, but I also know that I can’t not be here for you when you’re upset.” she said softly.

 

I sniffled and nodded, my hands reaching up to hold onto hers.

 

“Hi, Miss Thomas.” Florence said to the headstone as she sat down behind me and situated me between her legs so I was leaning with my back against her front, her arms snaking around my middle to hug me to her as she softly rocked us with her body. “As you can see, I’ve been taking care of little Maddy in your absence, I hope I can do as good a job as you did with her.” she said sadly before kissing the top of my head.

 

I sighed contentedly in the warmth of Mommy’s embrace and rested my head against her chest and picked the dangling pacifier up to put into my mouth when I saw something and felt an incredible wave of joy wash over me as the silicone bulb passed my smiling lips. Beside my mother’s headstone was a similarly shaped one, though older and more weathered, it was still easily readable.

 

In Loving Memory

Lisa Gomez

Friend, Wife, and Mother

 

Tears of happiness rolled down my cheeks as the realization that my mothers were together, reunited in their final resting places. I squirmed against Florence and picked up half of the flowers I’d set before my mother’s headstone and toddled awkwardly over to Lisa’s, plopping down on my butt to set them in front of her headstone before looking over at Florence.

 

“Find something, kiddo?” she asked.

 

I nodded, wanting to say something profound like a character in a movie would, like “myself” or “my family”, but the tears wouldn’t stop long enough to clearly make her out anymore than the aching lump in my throat would let me communicate more than barely controlled sobs as I sucked the pacifier between my lips, I settled for a simple “Other Mommy” and waited for her to come to me and hold me until I could elaborate on what I’d said.

 

Florence lost her parents in a car accident when she was little, my mother was disowned by her parents for having an unconventional lifestyle that made her seem crazy, Lisa’s parents showed love by throwing money at their daughter, but me? I was blessed to have three Mommy’s in my life and felt loved by each of them in different ways and even if two of them weren’t physically with us near that tree, I felt like we were sharing in the warmest and most loving embrace imaginable just knowing some part of them was there.

 

The End

 

*AUTHOR'S NOTE*

I'd like to thank everyone that read this story, I hope you enjoyed what you read and share any thoughts or feelings you may have below. Loved it or hated it or something in between, all comments and opinions are welcome. Take care and have a pleasant day.

[ItsYourBoi]

Wow. This was great. There's something so powerful about discovering your ancestry. I didn't even read this for the abdl parts, not in the least, if anything those parts detracted from it, as they clash with my particular preferences. This was just a really moving story.

[Flyingsquirrel]

Not going to lie, I cried. I ugly cried. Parts touched close to home, the last chapter and epilogue was such an amazing conclusion. Thank you so much for sharing this beautiful story. 

 

[Kaleros]

All I have to say is wow. This story was a rollercoaster ride of emotions and very well put together. 

[TheUnknownAuthor]

15 hours ago, ItsYourBoi said:

Wow. This was great. There's something so powerful about discovering your ancestry. I didn't even read this for the abdl parts, not in the least, if anything those parts detracted from it, as they clash with my particular preferences. This was just a really moving story.

Thank you for reading even though it wasn't your jam, I appreciate it and for you taking the time to comment, very glad you liked it!

9 hours ago, Flyingsquirrel said:

Not going to lie, I cried. I ugly cried. Parts touched close to home, the last chapter and epilogue was such an amazing conclusion. Thank you so much for sharing this beautiful story. 

 

You're quite welcome! I confess I did go pretty hard at the feels and I'm glad I did well but am sorry it triggered you so greatly, I hope you're okay. Thanks for reading and taking the time to comment!

8 hours ago, Kaleros said:

All I have to say is wow. This story was a rollercoaster ride of emotions and very well put together. 

Thank you! I put a lot into the last chapter because I didn't want to stretch things out and get repetitive but I worried it would be too much all at once, glad to hear it still worked out! Thanks for reading and taking the time to comment!

[flying dutchman]

short reply from this dutchy.. i read this story with al lot of interest and reconized some events in your story.. i even cried a few times.. 

thank you for this awesom story.. 

[WBDaddy]

4 hours ago, TheUnknownAuthor said:

You're quite welcome! I confess I did go pretty hard at the feels and I'm glad I did well but am sorry it triggered you so greatly, I hope you're okay. Thanks for reading and taking the time to comment!

You say that like it's a bad thing to evoke that kind of emotional response.  Personally, I'd be breaking my arm patting myself on the back if someone told me something I wrote did that to them when that was what I was going for. 

[kerry]

I finished reading and all I can say is...wow! 

This piece moved me more than I can say. It seemed, as I have said, more like memoir than fiction, and I was utterly caught up in these characters and their tale(s). Even so much diapering and babying going on, this story just feels real to me. There is nothing fetishistic about it (at least beyond the acknowledged kink of this lifestyle): this story is so far beyond most others that I'm absolutely in awe. 

Thank you so much for writing it and sharing it with us.

[TheUnknownAuthor]

5 hours ago, flying dutchman said:

short reply from this dutchy.. i read this story with al lot of interest and reconized some events in your story.. i even cried a few times.. 

thank you for this awesom story.. 

Thank you so much for sharing your feelings, I'm so happy you liked the story!

2 hours ago, WBDaddy said:

You say that like it's a bad thing to evoke that kind of emotional response.  Personally, I'd be breaking my arm patting myself on the back if someone told me something I wrote did that to them when that was what I was going for. 

I mean, I'm super proud of succeeding in my goal, don't get me wrong, I guess there's this part of me that worries something like this will make a person go "Yo, what the fuck?!" when they're expecting porn and get feels. Clearly that wasn't the case here, but it's still an unfamiliar situation to be in. I am very pleased with myself though, fear not.

30 minutes ago, kerry said:

I finished reading and all I can say is...wow! 

This piece moved me more than I can say. It seemed, as I have said, more like memoir than fiction, and I was utterly caught up in these characters and their tale(s). Even so much diapering and babying going on, this story just feels real to me. There is nothing fetishistic about it (at least beyond the acknowledged kink of this lifestyle): this story is so far beyond most others that I'm absolutely in awe. 

Thank you so much for writing it and sharing it with us.

You're quite welcome, and thank you for being a constant source of encouragement throughout the writing. I don't write things for other people, I write them to exercise whatever thing is bouncing around in my brain at the time, but having someone follow and provide feedback and support throughout is very much appreciated, so thank you very much for all your help.

I could've sworn I peaked in Elementary school most days, but this gives me hope that I may yet still have something to contribute...unless the next thing I finish is crap....:P

[Flyingsquirrel]

11 hours ago, TheUnknownAuthor said:

You're quite welcome! I confess I did go pretty hard at the feels and I'm glad I did well but am sorry it triggered you so greatly, I hope you're okay. Thanks for reading and taking the time to comment! 

Oh I meant it in a good way as WBDaddy said, a story that can evoke a strong emotional reaction is one to be praised. I would like to add that I am glad the story is this length, it doesn't drag on but has just enough meat that it feels satisfying. 

[aldl4811]

This was a masterpiece. I know I have commented a few times, but one last one! Thank you.

[Sarah Penguin]

That was great

[TheUnknownAuthor]

12 hours ago, Flyingsquirrel said:

Oh I meant it in a good way as WBDaddy said, a story that can evoke a strong emotional reaction is one to be praised. I would like to add that I am glad the story is this length, it doesn't drag on but has just enough meat that it feels satisfying. 

I absolutely took it in a good way I jjust wanted to make sure, since you said things hit a little close, that I was considerate of that fact and your feelings before I was like "Yay, i made someone cry with words!". Also, I started out with "10 or fewer" chapters in mind and thought seven felt like a sweet spot, I'm glad that proved correct.

11 hours ago, aldl4811 said:

This was a masterpiece. I know I have commented a few times, but one last one! Thank you.

And thank you! I feel "masterpiece" is overselling it, but it's greatly appreciated!

2 hours ago, Sarah Penguin said:

That was great

YOU'RE great! Thank you!

[BabySofia]

This has been open in a tab for me, but I just hadn't come to read it yet. I'm glad I waited until you were finished, as I'm not sure I could have handled those emotions without knowing for certain an ending was coming. This was a magnificently written tale that tore at my heart multiple times. As others have said there were definitely tears - especially at the end. Fantastic writing, and I look forward to seeing what you come up with next! 

[DiaperedPrince]

Tears, rollercoaster of emotions, heart-tearing, loss of words. I believe others have covered all my bases already. I'm going to sleep now... First time reading something has been so exhausting for me!

[TheUnknownAuthor]

On 5/22/2022 at 9:06 PM, BabySofia said:

This has been open in a tab for me, but I just hadn't come to read it yet. I'm glad I waited until you were finished, as I'm not sure I could have handled those emotions without knowing for certain an ending was coming. This was a magnificently written tale that tore at my heart multiple times. As others have said there were definitely tears - especially at the end. Fantastic writing, and I look forward to seeing what you come up with next! 

Apologies for the delayed reply! I'm so happy to hear that you had a chance to read the story and that it hit the feels mark for you, thank you so much for all the kind words and for taking the time to share your thoughts with me, it means a lot.

On 5/23/2022 at 1:37 AM, DiaperedPrince said:

Tears, rollercoaster of emotions, heart-tearing, loss of words. I believe others have covered all my bases already. I'm going to sleep now... First time reading something has been so exhausting for me!

Again, apologies for the delayed reply, but I greatly appreciate you reading my story and taking the time to comment. I don't believe I've ever had so many comments that are similar in their feelings, so it's very neat to see that so many people share the emotional response after reading the story. Very glad you enjoyed it.