Author's Note
So this is a sort of offshoot of my "The Dragon's Secret" series. Just a lot of musings from Silverstream, that also come from myself.
The topic this story covers is one of the very few things that makes being an ABDL Mommy so frustrating. You have all this love for your child and you just want to scream it from the rooftops, but society forces you to keep quiet, because according to them you aren't a "real parent". Well let me tell you something- the love and emotions I feel for my daughter are as real as you can get. Biology doesn't mean squat when it comes to being a good parent. I've seen parents treat their kids awful and I've seen friends of parents treat those kids better than they have. At the end of the day, biology only means so much. It can't get you everywhere.
So this is for you guys. For all the mothers out there like me who aren't recognized as being "real". Whether you're an ABDL mom, an adoptive mom, or a mom friend who takes care of kids, I hope you all know that you are just as real as mothers as the biological ones, and that to your kids, you are a real parent, related or not.
Enjoy.
Recognition
I sit beside her on her bed, and watch the steady rise and fall of her chest. My little one, so precious and perfect. She is everything I could have asked for if I had known what to ask. She is everything I ever wanted or needed. There is nogriff like her, and there wouldn’t be- because she is a dragon.
Everyone seems to think blood ties are the only thing that matters. That family is what you were born into and who you marry and that’s pretty much it. They’re wrong. My friends taught me that, because in this new place with none of my family present, they have become my family. Sandbar, Yona, Ocellus, and Gallus. But Smolder- Smolder has become so much more.
Smolder has become my daughter.
I imagine if anyone found out about this, they would enjoy poking holes in that- with sayings like, “She’s not biologically yours” or “She isn’t even the same species” or “She’s your age”. And I would smile politely while secretly thinking that they don’t understand a thing. Family is the one you create, not always the one you are born into. You can have both, and neither one makes the other any less real. There is no imbalance of love in having both. You simply love in different ways.
I wish that they would take a moment to see through my eyes. I wish they could see through my eyes, because they would have seen what I have seen. The tender moments with Smolder after a feeding, when she snuggles into me unthinkingly. The sweet sound of her giggle that makes me feel like I’m flying even when I’m still on the ground. The heart-fluttering way she calls me “Mama”. The way she reaches for me when she cries. I wish they could be inside of my body for even just an hour, because then they would feel what I feel. The intense joy- the overwhelming, gut-punching, knock-the-air-out-of-you kind of joy- I feel whenever she talks to me or when she gives me a hug. The limitless pride I feel every time she builds something or makes something. The utter awe I feel when I remember that this wasn’t a one-way decision; I didn’t just choose her- she chose me too, and that’s what makes this so special. But if they could feel, for even a moment, the love I feel for her, they wouldn’t dare say any of those things, because they would understand just how much I love her and how much I care.
Mothers do everything they can to show their children they love them and care for them. Or at least they’re supposed to. It’s a fact of life, and it transcends culture. There will always be a few bad seeds who prove that isn’t always true, but generally speaking, it is true. It is a universal knowledge, a deep truth, one embedded in every mind. If you’re a woman and you haven’t been a mother, then you have seen this truth, if not from your mother then from another. But if you are a mother in any capacity, you have experienced it. The fierce need to protect your children from anything and everything, but knowing that they have to go out into the world so they can learn and grow. The need to hover by them when they’re sick or sad so you feel like you’re doing something to make a difference. The absolute overwhelming brightness of your love for them compared to any other kind you have experienced.
I have experienced all of those things. All of those feelings, I have them. I have swam those oceans of emotions, and I have gone deeper in them than I ever thought I could. Motherhood does that to you. You feel things so intensely sometimes you think you might break. But all of that, all of those feelings, I have to keep them to myself. Why? Because my child- and she is my child- did not come from me or has no other relation to me, I am not a mother in the eyes of the world.
I am not recognized as a mother. It is so intensely painful to know that. To know that my love for my child is not considered valid just because of something as trivial as biology. But I have seen mothers who treat their biological children terribly, and I have seen mothers take other children who aren’t even theirs under their wing and treat them as their own. Biology is not what makes someone a mother. A mother is someone who loves her child. That’s all there is. Societal standards have conditioned us to think that biology means everything when it comes to kids. But society doesn’t know anything. Society’s standards were set long ago, and no one has changed them because they’re afraid to. So those like me are confined to those standards, like a prisoner in Tartarus. But I am not afraid to change them.
I can’t do it all at once. I know that. Change happens over time. So I will try and change perceptions. I will speak to others about what this feels like, and try and enlighten them to a new way of thinking. I will change minds and hearts, one creature at a time. I hope to inspire some of them along the way, maybe help others who feel the way I do to come out of hiding and start trying to change it too. The change is not just for me. It is for Smolder too. I would give everything I had for her to have one day where she doesn’t feel ashamed to be who she is. If I want to help her get there, I have to start with me.
The world does not see me as a mother. Some days this really bothers me, this lack of recognition. But at the end of the day, when all is said and done, the one who truly matters in all of this does. And it’s a good a place as any to start.
