Hello to yet another beautiful day in the world and one day closer to my son’s birth. One of very few shimmering lights in my world right now.
These last few days should have been relaxing and enjoyable as everyone stuffed their tummies full to breaking points and remembered the people they love most and those they are most thankful for in their lives. While my family did just that I sat inside my head screaming and slamming my head into that poor, severely dented wall wondering why in the world it was so hard for one particular
man child (no man I know would act this way) to be there for his child and hold to his word, keep his promises, and simply tell the truth when things did not go his way.
He allowed me to believe, for however fleeting the moment was, that he was gaining responsibility and opening his eyes to the life we were bringing into the world. I believed for one-eighth of a millisecond that he was going to follow through on something for the first time since I have met him. I thought with him stepping up, I could actually provide my baby boy with his first Christmas and show my parents how much I appreciate their help and support, but even one-eighth of a millisecond was too long. He was simply doing the two-step I should expect and know all too well. I had even told myself and had been told by my former therapist, “Expect to expect nothing of him.” I do not know why I slipped.
As those I loved unbuttoned their pants to allow more room to breathe, watched Christmas specials, and broke out the Holiday decorations, I ran block on myself. Running to my room or the bathroom to catch the tears of anger and frustration that forced their way out. Tears that held the words of hurt I long to hurl at him for the pain he causes me but do not dare to share with him, then washing those words off my face and painting on a smile in their place, standing up straight and walking out to the Christmas tree with my head held high.
It feels overwhelmingly difficult most days, I wonder how I will possibly do this for the rest of our son’s life without landing myself into some sort of trouble because I’ll have no tongue left to bite. Due to my son’s father’s inability to think of anyone other than himself, I do not get to buy my son his first Christmas gift. I am now on maternity leave and here in the “Land of the Free” there is no paid maternity leave offered for those expecting. I had my last shift taken from me and will only have three hours for two weeks on this last check, if I am lucky, at minimum wage, no less. But at least I have a few cards up my sleeves. After this ordeal to get money he owes his son, he still believes I will not go through the proper channels for child support. He believes me to be an airheaded bimbo who cannot think or act for herself and believes the lies he tells with nothing to show for it. He believes I will lay down to be his doormat; allowing him to pay what he wants, when he wants, and visit as he pleases. I will allow him to think this of me, it will only be that much more of a surprise when he realizes all the lies I caught him in and that I am not so naïve to simply sit back and allow him to treat his son anyways he pleases.
He had been warned and given plenty of opportunities. “You’re either in his life or you’re not. We are not your swinging door or your doormats. I will not allow you to come and go in DC’s life as you please and break his heart.” He thinks because he is the father I cannot see to just that. I am done playing Mr. Nice-Guy. I’ve cried too much for my son over these last nine and a half months and I refuse to see those same tears, filled with words he cannot bring himself to say, on my son’s face as he gets older. I AM DONE! I have reached my limit, he WILL NOT hurt my baby. I do not give a shit who he is because as far as I am concerned, just because he shares my son’s DNA it does not magically make him a daddy. My distaste for my child’s donor runs deeper than I could have ever imagined it could run for anyone.
Dear God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change; courage the change the things I can; and the wisdom to know the difference. Amen