"You aren't a parent, so you wouldn't understand..." 

"Try all you want, you'll never be his mom, you're an outsider..." 

You're right. You're damn right. I'm not his mom. I'm not even A MOM. 

I never got to feel the "magic" of a tiny human growing and moving around in my body. 

I never got to experience the "miracle" of giving birth. 

I didn't get an adorable little helpless baby who depended on me for everything. 
i didnt get the hormones. 
I didn't get the oxytocin bond. 
I didn't get those little helpless baby eyes loving me. 
I didn't get those first words of mommy. 
I don't even get "mom". 
 

I don't have a "parental instinct" to know what's good or bad for him. 
 

I don't have a biological connection that makes me love him unconditionally. Even when he hurts me. 
 

I don't have a biological imperative to keep him alive. 
 

I don't even have a piece of legal paperwork requiring me to stay. 
 

But I make sure to cut his jelly sandwiches into fours. 
I download dumbass pop music to my iTunes account so he can dance. 
I read him bedtime stories. 
I give him a bear hug and rub his head when he's struggling with life, struggling to get air, struggling with why his mom's not here. 
I stay up late with him on a Friday night instead of going to the bar with my friends. 
I take off work to be with him when he's sick. 
I stayed up countless nights to nurse him through surgery, while he's screaming for "mommy," and bought him all the toys his little heart could desire.  
I go to Petrie dish kid places for his birthday parties. 
 

I write notes from Santa and the tooth fairy. 
 

I talk to him about "bad moms" and how we can't judge them because moms go through things that we can't understand. 
 

You're goddamn right, I'm not his mother. I have no biological, hormonal, or chemical reason to love him. 
 

I just do.