Tuesday, December 25, 2012

Merry Christmas


I’m a fucking wreck.  My husband came to pick up my son for little while today so his family could see him for Christmas.

I’ve been crying since yesterday thinking about being apart from him.

It’s only been 11 days since he was born.  Being separated from him is the worst kind of torture imaginable.  It’s my son’s first Christmas, and I can honestly say it’s one of the worst Christmases I’ve ever had.

I’m looking out my window, the same window I used to stare out of when I was younger.  The sun comes and goes, and the bare branches on the trees match how empty I feel without being able to look into his eyes.

I don’t care that my husband is his father.  I want[ed] to work things out.  It’s not my fault he’s not around.  If I had my way we would all be together.  I carried Brandon for 9 months.  I took care of myself while I did it.  Now Brandon’s here and after months of what seemed like pretending that there was no baby, I’m supposed to share him willfully?

It’s only been 11 days.  I had surgery.  Did I not deserve a chance to rest before this?  It should be him that tells me for sure what he wants, since he was the one so adamant about “waiting to see until the baby comes.”  Reality is he won’t say a fucking word.  So I’m going to have to.  And I guess I’m going to have to do it now.  Because I can’t take this.  I can’t take the not knowing.

I’m so confused about everything.  I’m learning how to be a mom.  I mean, for me, it actually did come naturally, as far as practical things go.  But the amount of love I have for Brandon is something that I can hardly control.  I have to learn how to feel this, and how to leave room in my heart for someone else (new?).

I’m confused about love.  I have felt real hatred towards my husband over the past few months.  I have felt sorry for him too.  I have missed him.  I have missed perhaps not him, but just companionship.  I know how alone I was/felt when we were together.  And when everything that eventually split us up went down, I didn’t know I was pregnant.  If I had known, things would’ve been different.  Because the kind of alone I feel now without my son is worse than anything I have ever felt.  Like someone asked to borrow my vital organs for awhile.  And I would have dealt with the aloneness with my husband, to never have to experience what I’m going through now.

Is that fair or good?  Probably not.  But I would have tried.

I’m confused about the reckless, emotional, person I met so many years ago.  The boy that hurt me, that I hurt, but that I couldn’t shake no matter how hard I tried.  I think about how he first told me he loved me.  I think about how he has cried in front of me.  Has cried to me.  I think about how when things were good, how good they really were.  I think about making love to him and laughing laughing laughing the whole way through.  Probably one of the happiest memories in my lifetime. 

I don’t know now though.  I also think about how things had changed.  How he never came to me anymore.  How he never seemed happy to see me.  How we so rarely touched each other let alone made love.  How often I ate and slept alone.

(I just put my hand to my face, and I smelled my son on my hand.  Please God let today move quickly.)

And I don’t want to be alone like that ever again.  And I don’t want to go through the motions just because it’s easier.  I want to be kissed and touched by someone who wants to kiss and touch me.  I want to cook for someone that appreciates it.  I want to know that when I go to bed at night, there will be someone there to hold me.  Or fight with me, even.  Just acknowledge me. 

I want to watch Game of Thrones with someone, and The Walking Dead.  I want to have a person to go to the movies with.  I want someone who doesn’t think it’s silly that I [still] write poems.  I want someone that wants me to be happy.  That believes in the search for happiness above all other things, including how things appear to others.  I would like money and “things” of course, because I’m a human and I’m entirely willing to admit that I get jealous when I see other people with things I don’t/can’t have, but when it comes down to it, I cried for days leaving my old, tiny, broken-down one bedroom apartment to come live with my parents.  I still close my eyes and dream of my old kitchen.  And I would give anything to be back there now, taking care of my baby in my own place.

I miss Chester too, second after my darling baby.  I miss my family.

It’s hard though.  With the baby.  I am alone in that no matter how I look at it.  If I’m with a different man, he did not get me pregnant.  The baby is not his responsibility.  Especially if my husband is still somewhat in the picture.  It’s complicated, and uncomfortable, and all I really want is what’s best for my son.

And I just don’t know right now if that is the stability of keeping our family together, or trying to establish a new (stronger?) relationship with someone else.  Not that the choice is all mine, or mine at all.  It’s really up to my husband whether or not he wants to work things out.  At least, originally, that’s what it was.  He knows that what I originally wanted was to stay together.  That was because I changed the second I heard my son’s heart beating.  I wanted to remain a family.  I have never lived under the delusion that things are perfect all the time.  Problems, even big ones, don’t equal divorce for me.  They are just problems, like everyone has (and anyone who says otherwise is lying, perhaps to themselves more than anyone else).  We didn’t try for a baby to fix things, he just happened.  Kind of under a miraculous series of events, too.  And I’m big on signs. 

When I look at my Brandon, I honestly can’t begin to describe the things I would give up for his sake.  Including, perhaps, the chance to be kissed by someone who wants to kiss me, held by someone who doesn’t want to let me go.

Just so that there is never a morning that I can’t kiss my son.  So there is never an evening that I can’t tuck him in and tell him I love him.

But I’m good at reading situations.  In fact, this exact situation I’m in I predicted back in June.  So, I don’t think we’ll be “working things out.”  I think I have to start coming to terms with this awful mess.

On top of trying to decide: look for a new job, or stay at my current one?  I really like my current job.  I want to stay there.  I like my boss.  I’m close to home.  But I need to make more money.  For my son and for myself.  I need health insurance.  (Assuming I’m getting a divorce.  At least I know Brandon is still covered by his dad.)

I think I’m going to look for a new job and see what happens.  In the meantime, plan on returning to my current job at the end of my leave and see what I can arrange to make more money.  On top of my [hopeful] promotion.

Then I have to look for a new home for Brandon and I.  A place to call our own.  Where I don’t feel like I have to constantly run around and pick up all his things.  I want to live comfortably, in a young home where my son can spread out and play all over.

All I know now, is that I am completely overwhelmed.

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