From the View of a Single Mom

So, I have been missing blogging lately and decided to explore the possibility of really getting back into it. The only way for me to do that is to get something off my chest.. something that, for every blog I wrote, was always in the back of my mind screaming to come out. Infact, it is the reason I stopped blogging.
I am mad. I am mad that I as soon as my daughter was born, I knew I would have to lie to her. And not just a little white lie, a big, fat, horrible one. And to top it all off, after I lie to her, I know that eventually she will find out the truth, and possible be really upset with me for lieing. I will, however, try everything in my power to keep it from her, so this post will be deleted if my daughter does infact ever read this blog.. It is something I hope she never has to know.
You know all those cute little baby books you get as gifts? The ones with all the questions? How did you come up with my name? What's my favorite colour? What was my first word? All cute stuff, right? Wrong.
What were mom's thoughts when I was born?
I'd have to lie.
What were dad's thoughts when I was born?
Lie.
What were your thoughts when you found out I was coming into this world?
Lie.
A lot of horrible things were said throughout the pregnancy.. but basically to sum it up, Abby's father and I were not planning her arrival. I eventually accepted it and embraced the fact that my life was no longer going to be just mine. He did not, and reminded me all the time that this is something he never wanted.
I will never forget the day after Abby was born. Sitting in the hospital, exhausted from the day before. Visitors started coming, and I find out what happened outside of my delivery room, the night before and I fall apart in every way. I knew that a lot of things had been said, but figured that once she would be here and he got a good look at her, it would have to change.. right? Instead I find out that he spent the day feeling sorry for himself and eventually was dragged to the hospital. Still doesn't want her. What a horrible feeling. The thoughts that went through my head that day still haunt me. What had I done. I brought this innocent life into the world and she wasn't wanted. Family for her would always be weird. He hates me for having her, so of course, his family will always be influenced by that, and I don't blame them, but it makes things hard. I tried to pretend that it wouldn't be a factor for a while, and realized it is something that can't be escaped.
Same goes with my family, although it has to be easier for them.. they actually SEE every day what goes on, or worse, what doesn't. But sitting in the hospital bed, knowing she would grow up and see it all just made me feel so horrible for bringing her into this world. But that isn't what made me cry all day. I was in pain, and so much was going on, but that day, the people who I really felt for was his family. His Dad.. who he does not talk to now has a grandchild of his own. How hard must that be. To not be on good terms with your son but want to be a part of your grandaughters life without trying to make things even worse. He didn't want to visit because he didn't want to make a bad situation worse, but ended up coming to see her. I was so happy that he did. His visit took so much weight off my mind and I am happy that he will be able to have a relationship with her. I know that Abby's Dad must be mad at me for keeping contact with him but I pray that one day they can get over their differences, and Abby will not need to know any different.
That family member has it the easiest though.
The ones who have it really bad are the ones who still have a good relationship with Abby's father. How torn inside it must feel to love two people so much and feel the distance between them.. like you have to choose. To love your new family member so much, and know that her father doesn't feel the same as you do. That you want to see her and be with her, but at some level, feel guilty for not being there for the member that has been in your life all along, no matter how much in the wrong they are. This is all speculation, and I could be wrong, but I don't think I am. It must be the worst feeling in the world. Smiles and words don't cover up whats deep inside. I know the people that love her. I can see it in their eyes. Eyes never lie. And they love her.. I mean, really love her. Like I love her. So it has to hurt. And that day, I hurt for them.

I did not expect to have a c-section. I remember the day I was supposed to be released and how much I cried. I was in so much pain. Just to get out of bed took me a couple minutes. How was I supposed to go home and take care of a baby all by myself when I couldn't move. Everyone worked. I was going to be alone. I was exhausted. Maybe slept about 4 hours the whole three days I was in the hospital because I was just so overcome with everything going on around me. And after I would compose myself a bit, tell myself it would all be ok and somehow I'd manage, I'd feel so guilty and like such a horrible mother for not being that happy mom in the hospital bed holding her beautiful, beautiful daughter who was just so perfect but her mom was too busy feeling sorry about herself to notice. And then the tears came again. Those were just some of my thoughts. Do I write that in the baby book? Of course not. Don't get me wrong, I did feel blessed to have her. The night she was born was one of the best moments of my life. I was oblivious to everything going on around me and she was just so perfect. The only reality at that time was us. And it felt so good, and I knew I made the right choice at that moment.

That week home was the most difficult week of my life. No one was there. I had friends who were able to stop by, but they all lived out of town and had their busy lives so it was only an hour here and there. It was just me, in a lot of pain, with a demanding newborn. Then on top of that, reality had hit hard. My hopes that her father would come around were disappearing every day that passed that I didn't hear from him. Although I never got replies, I sent pictures and updates because I figured deep down he would have to care.. right? It was two weeks after she was born that I finally heard from him and he wanted to take her. YES! I was so happy! I was worried about how she would be without me, but the fact that he wanted to see her made me have hope. When he came to get her, I see his face.. and I know him. I know him really well. I spent almost five years every day with that face. He didn't want to see her. His friends did. And that became a pattern. For the first few months of her life, he would take her when other people were around.. pretend that she is actually a part of his life. I just went along with it. At least she got to spend time and see her dad right? Then it started being a once a week thing for a few hours. Progress right? ...

I have a love/hate relationship with Mondays now. On the plus side, I have a few hours once a week when I am free. It feels nice to be free. I love my daughter very much, but being home all the time with no break from her gets to me and I need some ME time. He tells me that she just cries for him though. So, is that really good? Does she really know him? Is she scared? Is she treated well? Does she see his eyes...? I hope she never really sees his eyes. I see those eyes every week. Twice. I try and say positive things.. update him on the things she can do.. what she says.. even spent a lot of time saying dada just so that he can hear it so it can melt his heart like mama melts mine. There is a smile, and words, but the eyes don't change. I really hope they do. He has told me a few times up until about 5 months ago that he would take her just so he could say that he did. I know he must care about her a bit now, but I hope for so much more. I don't know how much longer I can look at those eyes.. I'm sure she sees them. That's probably why she cries. They make me cry.
The truth hurts.
This ugly truth is something I deal with every day. How do I hide it from my daughter. When will she start to realize that her dad only wants to see her once a week for a few hours. And does he even really want to? If he did, wouldn't he, on the days he missed, try to make it up? Or, if he had a free night, would he not want to see her? Or on a weekend? I spend more time with her and her diapers than he has with her. My brother, who lives 7 hours away from me, has spent more time with her than he has. How is that possible? I mean, he says he loves her, but how is it that someone who lives so far away can make more of an effort to get to know her than he does. Will it change? I hope so... but I get less hopeful every day.
And I feel guilty sometimes for thinking these things. I mean, some dads don't spend any time with their kids.. so anytime he makes to see his daughter I try and appreciate. And then others made me feel guilty.. because at least he is trying. Well, is he really? And if so, just how hard IS he trying? He puts on his dad hat once a week and I really wonder if, after he drops her off back home, does he even think about her until Monday morning again. And when he has her, is he actually the one visiting with her, or is it someone else.

The whole reason I am writing this blog is because I have felt guilty for feeling some of these things. I am the one who did not want an abortion. I am the one who accepted responsiblility for my actions and she is the consequence. I am ok with that. Why, if he didn't want to accept it, should I hope for or expect any more of him than nothing at all? After all, it was my choice. Afterall, he's "trying". Then I read a blog by Dan over at Single Dad Laughing.. Real Dads Don't Leave. One section of this blog really hit home for me.

"But there is another kind of father who leaves as well. This dad leaves in disguise. He works to make it appear that he’s not leaving at all. He, like that first man, cloaks himself in rationalization and reasoning. He shows up just often enough to pull off his ruse, and he goes to bed each night feeling good about himself as the dad that he thinks himself to be. This second type is the divorced dad who by choice becomes nothing more than a weekend or a summer dad.

I cannot comprehend fathers that do this. I don’t understand how they can be okay with their choices, and I don’t understand how they can be okay offering such trace amounts of time and support to their children.

A dad like this is okay being a dad every other weekend and a couple weeks every summer. He’s okay spending such minimal and limited time with his child. He’s okay letting his child’s mother do the vast majority of the raising, and he is often okay watching another man step into the picture and be the dominant father figure for his own children.

He doesn't fight to constantly be with and near his child. He doesn't fight to be a real dad to his child. He doesn’t really fight at all.

Though, he probably claims that he does. He probably spends a lot of wasteful hours telling the people in his life that he did and is doing everything he can for his child. He probably has painted a picture so pretty that even he has started to believe it.

Many of these dads hide behind phone calls and text messages to their kids. They believe that a quick check-in every so often is sufficient enough to brand themselves as "there". They lie to themselves, they lie to others, and they lie to their kids.

Many of these dads can be wrapped under the label of Disneyland Dads. They have their children so infrequently, that when they do, it’s nothing but fun and revelry. These dads really never parent at all. A dad like this convinces himself that as long as his kid is spoiled and happy when she leaves, he’s a good dad. He’s doing his duty. After all, his kid loves him.

Real divorced dads don’t do that. Sure they find ways to do all of the things Disneyland Dads do, but they also understand how important it is to be there as often as they possibly can. They understand that their kids need their fathers’ examples and discipline. They understand the unbalance that happens when their child is fatherless most of the time.

These dads, these real dads, they fight for their children."

THIS coming from a dad. I cried when I read this for the first time. Someone gets it. Someone understand that I am not this heartless person.

I try more than I can possibly explain. I offer extra time.. always make sure I ask if he wants to take her when I need someone to watch her, just incase he does. Print off pictures for him. Tell him what she can do and what she likes to do. Rearrange her schedule so that she is ok for the night with him. I put a smile on my face, and I try. It's not easy. I don't even ask for financial support, even though I need it pretty bad, because I am worried that he will just have another reason to resent her and that's the last thing I want.

So, I am not going to feel guilty anymore. I am doing my part as a mom and I am doing a great job. I love her enough for both of us. I care for her enough for both of us. She is not missing out on anything. He is. I just hope for the day that I can fill out that book and what I write won't be a lie. The day his eyes light up when he sees her instead of shadow over.. so maybe she will never have to know the truth. And if it doesn't happen, to stop with the charade and not use her once a week to try and prove something to others.

Now that I have written this, you won't hear about it again. I don't think any worse scenarios can come up because we have come across them all. It felt good to get it off my chest.. feelings that I've held in for a long time. Now I can focus more on her.
Our reality.
The reality of the night she was born.
That perfect moment of just.. us.