Tag Archives: momprenuer

The Potty Training Saga

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Deep breath….ok guys so I’m officially potty training my 21 month old. NO, I didn’t push him; NO I’m not rushing; YES he basically told me it was time…he kept pulling his wet diapers off and bringing them to me…..so yes, it was time. I chose this week because it’s vacation week from daycare and from everything I read it’s best to just “go at it for the week” then then try on weekends only. This is Day 2 y’all……Day 2!!!!! He is such a handful but damn it I’m not backing down!!

Day 1 went like this, I wasn’t home because I was working that day and so I decided I’d start on Monday. My mom was home with him all day and wanted to start so we agreed. I left the house around 11am by 130 he’d officially shat and pissed the floor and by 3 she was “sick of this shit and too old to be bending down to clean up shit” so my son ended up back in a diaper. Originally I was not thrilled that he was back in a diaper because well she could’ve waited and he and I could’ve started on Monday like I originally planned.

Part 2 Day 1 I got home around 5, he cleaned up, we ate dinner and I chilled. Y’all I was not gonna reopen this can of worms until tomorrow. While chilling out my mother goes “did you try with him?” No, no I did not….we can wait til tomorrow. About an hour later I said to hell with it and decided we could try at least once. My👏🏾 Child👏🏾 Set👏🏾Me👏🏾Up👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾!! I put him in the toilet and made him sit there for 10 minutes. While sitting in the toilet I showed him his “big boy shirts”(which he actually likes), read him the toilet book, and showed and e Plaines his progress chart to him and what he’d receive stickers for. Somewhere during all of that my son went; he used the toilet. I was super thrilled!! I celebrated with him, we flushed, washed his hands, put the stickers on his chart and back to chill vile we went, I told him in 30 minutes we’d try again. Thirty minutes passed we tried again and guess what, he went again. Again I excitedly celebrated him and tracked his progress. In the words of Da I’ll Tiger we flushed, and washed, and went on our way!😂😂😂😂 Right before his bedtime bath we tried once more, this time he didn’t use the bathroom but we’ll he sat so ok. Y’all know I’m fairly ambitious so in my mind “cool, at this rate we should have the whole “go in the down by Wednesday and spend the rest of the week learning how to correctly put on his big boy pants without my help.” I was excited, I had a plan and it was all coming together.

Day 2, As with everything that I’ve attempted to plan parent wise, my plan fell apart. We woke up and first thing this morning I put him on the potty, he went…success!! In my mind things were going according to my plan. 8am we tried again, and nothing. This time he barely wanted to sit on the toilet. In fact he made five minutes by the skin of his teeth….as in he got up at least three times and I made him sit back down. Five minutes passed and nothing happened so we got up. No sooner than we get outta the bathroom my man pees and y’all I was not patient, I..was..livid(please don’t start telling me how I should’ve responded…I’m well aware of that but that’s not how this unfolded lol). I KNEW he had to go….I told him to sit down…he didn’t wanna wait… now Elmo is wet. I say “man didn’t we agree to keep Elmo dry?” “You gotta be a big boy and use the potty if we’re gonna do that!l I think he was tired of the whole thing because he boycotted his mid-morning snack, lunch, and ended up in time out twice before noon. Homeboy was BIG MAD! I think it’s the sitting and waiting part that he’s not thrilled with. As I sit typing I remember reading he should have a toy while o; the toilet, so the last two times I let him pick his favorite books to bring along and we took his piano. I must admit having a distraction made the waiting part bearable. Since he’s been up from his afternoon nap (aka he fell asleep while in timeout) we’ve had one successful potty time and one successful sitting with no action. At this rate I’m just hoping he actually gets trained by then end of the week. Potty Training is rough…and I have no idea how I’m doing this without wine😩😩😩

Pray for me

Badge of Shame

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My son is named after his father. In fact, he’s name after both his father and grandfather; his suffix is “III.” Once my ex rejected him( even after signing his birth certificate) I seriously debated changing his name. Not his first name, he was just about eleven months at the time and certainly used to his first name but his middle and last names……..most definitely! In my mind there was no sense in wearing the name of the person who ejected him.

Rewind to 11 months (now almost 2 years ago) I remember finding out I was pregnant and instantly thinking “well at least I don’t have to think of a name.” After telling one of my newly divorced friends my plan to name him after his father she posed some real questions. Are you sure he’s going to be around; you don’t want to name him after someone who acts an ass then you’re reminded of that person every time you call your son. “How will you feel calling your son by this name (his name) when you’re pissed off with him(the ex)? “I’m going through all of that now she remarked, I almost hate calling my son’s real name because it reminds me of his father. There’s a lot that goes into naming the child after his father, stuff we don’t think about.” I’ll admit, she scared the shit out of me. I hadn’t thought of any of that. She scared me so much I debated and actually tried to change my son’s name. I remember thinking “maybe he can just have the same initials as his dad”; maybe he can have a different name altogether, different initials and all.” I ran the idea of another name by my mom who loved it. She suggested that was a good idea as we already had 2-3 cousins with the same first name. And as she told me oddly enough one of those cousins had a middle name that was close to my son’s father’s middle name too. Agreeing that was too much, for the next three weeks I came up with different names and called my son by them……that stubborn little man wouldn’t budge. I liked one name in particular and really wished he would answer to it BUT wishful thinking. He would only answer to his father’s name….and so it was I was stuck naming him after his father. With my baby due any day now I became quite content with naming him after his dad, after all his dad was pleased with the decision AND my son refused to answer to anything else.

During the first ten months I never rethought my son’s name. Sure his dad and I had some rough times but those come with the territory of being in a relationship. It wasn’t until that night in October a year after having my first doubts that I suddenly felt as if I’d made a mistake. It was the week before my son’s baptism and his father was taking forever to give his parents the invitation. I decided we’d known one another for the longest; we had a great relationship, there was no reason I couldn’t send his mom a message with the invite myself. That was the absolute biggest mistake of my life. It was that night all hell broke loose. Long story short my son’s father told her we had a DNA test and the kid wasn’t his. Talk about an earth shattering moment. I have to stand in front of God, my Pastor, family, and church family to have my son baptized with a name of someone rejecting him?!?!? I have to stand there bearing THIS?!?!? TOO MUCH JESUS, TOO MUCH!!!!

You couldn’t pay me to believe I hadn’t made a mistake. How could I not see this happening? How was I supposed to get him baptized. Was I really going to stand there and allow him to be called by the traitor’s name? What choice did I have? This was such a nightmare. There we stood having him baptized by the traitor’s name; with a cake at dinner afterwards that also had his name…not a sole from that side of the family there. Not even his treacherous ass twenty-three other chromosomes. This was so embarrassing.

I got through that day taking the celebratory dinner to divulge to my cousins what had transpired. It helped to tell someone other than my best friends and my mother but still there was a deathly feeling. It was that damn name.

In an argument attempting to get through what happened I told the jackass that I intended to change the my son’s name because I didn’t want the baby to bear the constant rejection from someone who didn’t want him. This foo had the audacity to tell me that hurt his feelings. Pardon my language but I flipped the fuck out. Do you really think I care about your feelings after what you did to me? What about my son’s feelings? How is he going to feel as he gets older?

That was and still is such a haunting question. How do you explain to a child why you made a decision to name him after someone who decided to abandon him? The truth has been suggested, but if I’m my son I don’t want to hear “ I used to love him, we grew up together, I named you to honor him as his first born son, I didn’t see this coming, I’m sorry. He’ll hear I’m sorry because I am, I never intended for things to go this way, but really how do I teach him not to look at his name as a badge of shame? How do I teach him to handle questions about his name in school? How do I answer when he asks why we have different last names? What do I say if he asks why didn’t I change his name? Almost a year later and I still don’t have answers.

Looking back on my rant about changing his name, my mother never actually co-signed or tried to talk me out of it. From what I can remember she just let me vent. Of course my cousins said change his name and go for child support, my best friends agreed with my cousins….once they came out of their shock about the entire situation. One of my mom’s friends told me not to change his name because if anything ever happened to his father my son would get money….Lord forbid this of course. Really, the decision was mine. When I originally told his father I was changing his name I told his father he should have the privilege of giving his name to someone he loved, cared about and wanted to parent. I was serious when I said that. On the other hand it was pretty fucked up knowing he may have another son some day and the chick will never know about my kid UNTIL she tried to name her son after this same treacherous soul only to find out it wasn’t possible.

In the end I still haven’t changed his name. I let my son keep his name. I didn’t do it out of spite, fear, not for money( I’m not even seeking child support from the bastard I just want to be left alone in peace), I didn’t do it out of indecisiveness. Now I haven’t given my son a nickname he can only be called by his full name. Any nickname is entirely too close to his father, and while I forgive him and I’m moving past all this….I still don’t wanna hear that name. No bitterness there, I don’t cringe when others do it, I don’t correct them BUT I’m not making a habit out of it either. I haven’t changed his name because one day my son will be great( I truly believe this). One day my son will change the world, he will make it a better place. When that day comes I want his other twenty-three chromosomes to know he missed out. I want him to be reminded that missing out was his decision. I want him to be reminded of what he did.

I don’t know how to answer my son, I hope I never have to answer those questions but if I do I’ll tell him the truth. I named you after him because at one point I loved him, and you were a gift to him. It’s not your fault that he didn’t realize or accept you as his gift. It’s not your fault that he didn’t stay, he missed out, not you. I am truly sorry that you have to bear his name, you are free to change your name BUT his decisions don’t dictate who you are, they don’t dictate who you will be. They don’t dictate your worth. Having his name doesn’t dictate your worth or your future. I truly think that’s the best answer I can give him.

Molding Toddzilla

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My son is in the thick of terrible twos which is interesting enough because he’s only a few days off 20 months. I noticed the change once he turned 18 months, it’s as if he realized he could control EVERYTHING and boy has he been determined to do so. I don’t think I’ve said “no or stop” so many times in my life. I swear I average both words along with the phrase “don’t do that” 20xs/day. Not lying!!! Lately I’ve found myself tiring of saying “stop”, “no”, “don’t do that”…like just down right exhausted. It’s like I’m a broken record. Along with being exhausted of being so negative I also realized my son is an absolute sponge right now. Meaning he picks up on any and everything I do even and probably especially if I don’t want him to. I decided to reevaluate where we(my son and I) are in this period of life and the first thing I realized is toddlerhood is JUST starting…aka I have at least 3 more years of this😩. Secondly, (after pulling myself back together lol) I also realized I can’t continue doing things at this pace; if I’m going to get through this I had to change my style. Changing my style meant more reflection and as a consequence of more reflection it also meant being more intentional in my actions and interactions with toddzilla. Here are a few of the things I’m purposefully implementing:

  1. I try to thank my toddler more! This is an extremely important piece and it took me a few days to come up with this one. This is also probably the hardest technique because I have to actively LOOK for opportunities to do it. There are times when my toddler does something without me having to ask or instruct him; for example yesterday when I told him it was time for lunch he climbed in his chair, strapped himself in, and waited very patiently until I brought him lunch. I was thoroughly impressed. I look for these situations to thank him and tell him I like when he does “xyz”. The positive affirmation acknowledges that he was listening and paying attention to my teachings AND that he’s mastered when and how to implement new skill. Tell him I like when he does something increases the likelihood of him repeating the skill without prompting or fighting.
  2. If I’m telling him not to do something I try very hard to explain why the action isn’t suitable AND how it affects him. Great example, the stove! My kid loves to “help me cook”….I’m Type A+ personality so it drives me NUTS lol, but I pull back and allow it because I understand he wants to “help” and feel included. As parents we all know the kitchen is an extremely dangerous place for toddlers….it’s almost impossible to keep them safe in the kitchen. For some reason my son is taken with the stove. He wants to touch it, he wants to attempt to turn the buttons and because he’s watched me do it, he thinks he can move pots and pans. Beforehand any time I saw him approaching the stove he’d get a stern “don’t touch that”!! Which of course for the rebellious soul just means “go ahead and touch it.” Now I focus on telling him the stove is extremely hot, and if he touches it there’s a chance he’ll get burned which means we’ll have to take away from his play time to go sit at the doctor. Does this explanation always work. Nope! So I have to switch it up and ask him “is the stove hot or cold?” Then pose a follow up question about what can happen s are too hot….he’s not verbalizing well enough to answer that question, but his actions usually show he understands.
  3. I stroke his ego! Yup, not even 2 yet and it already works! Like all toddlers he loves to help and will often do so without being prompted, in those moments I tell him “ he’s the best ever at (insert helpful thing here)”, or “he’s so good at (insert helpful thing here)”, I clap, I dance, I high five….I stay gassing him up for being helpful….as a result he continues helping and I’m not stressed.

Conclusion: does my new way of doing things always work-NOPE! Absolutely not! I’d be a liar to say they do, but at the very least I’m not burned out. I do know these techniques are allowing me to affirm and praise my child and they’re also giving him explanations as to why I don’t want him to do things. Hopefully he learn from the explanations and be able to make his own connections and have more information when making a choice( a little advanced for a toddler but hey if he’s gonna soak everything up why not start “filling” him with skills to succeed now). One of my favorite lessons for him is empowerment! By pulling back and rerouting I am giving him the confidence to explore and take risk(hopefully calculated risks as he gets older). Finally, I know that my new found ways of dealing with him will teach him more about rewards and consequences and teach him that every action has both rewards and consequences attached. So in closing I probably won’t lessen the amounts of bumps, bruises, and cuts but at least I’m attempting to raise a well rounded individual AND keeping a tad of my sanity while doing so.

Redemption.

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Daycare is Godawful expensive!! Most people with children know and agree on that. I previously worked as a General Manager at a corporate gym and received some assistance from the state in paying for my child’s daycare. Even with receiving that assistance I still paid an additional $400/ month for daycare. There were of course other options that would’ve been fully covered  by the state but those were less than satisfactory…that’s another story altogether. About 2 months ago I received notice that my grant for daycare would cease because “I now made too much.” Out of curiosity I wondered what “too much was” so I inquired. I found out “too much” was $2500/ month in which case I realized there was no way I should’ve gotten assistance to begin with; clearly I wasn’t about to apply again. It was at this point I decided (since I was changing careers anyways to drop my son to part time daycare; this addition would allow me to save or divert to other expenses $420/month AND revive my stay at home mom status….even if it’s just part time. 

First I devised plan…you guys will learn that I HAVE to have a plan, it keeps me at calm lolbs! After figuring out which days my son would stay with me I wrote his daily daycare schedule out and inserted various events for he and I to do in the activity block. I figured if we stay on the schedule he’s accustomed to it really couldn’t be that bad. Being frugal, I also decided it would be best to alternate the distance of our activities, one of our activities would be closer to the house while the other would take us further away. 

I didn’t quite have a plan for today but ugh, well….mommy daycare it was lol! My kid, as if he wasn’t exhausted from yesterday woke up at 6:30am bright, early, and ready to go!!! Without a real plan intact Mommy Daycare was off and running! 

6:30 bath

7am breakfast and PBS

8am open play

9am outdoor play

9:30 bored child (yup, your read that right)

9:35 puzzled parent because this whole outdoor thing should’ve lasted until 9:50

9:50 sign-ups for open play at an indoor playground 

10:00 mid morning snack

10:15 head to indoor playground 

10:25 arrive at indoor playground 

10:27 toddler meltdown…not sure if he was upset that we were at an indoor playground and not daycare OR if he was pissed Babyshark went off…I think it’s the latter

10:30-11:45 SUCCESS!!! my child is happy, I’m starting a blog (I’m finishing it 12 hours later and yes I have totally forgotten the purpose of the blog)

11:50 depart indoor playground

12pm LUNCH

…..and dare I say it 12:30 NAP!! Oh thank God we made it!!!

Mama had a 1pm tour about 15 minutes away and thankfully grandma stepped in to sit with her sleeping angel. 

Maybe the point of this blog was to share that days at home with children work best when you keep them WITH other children, that way they keep one another busy. Maybe the point of this blog was to show you that you can do it Mama! After all I legit played Mommy Daycare, and worked from home and it worked itself out. Maybe, the point of the blog is to reassure you that you can be every woman in one day or that you don’t necessarily need a plan to successfully navigate it through the day…nope that wasn’t the point of the blog lol! A plan is very necessary………………………..

Something no one really knew was after spending 9 months as a “Stay at Home Mom” I mildly resented going back to work. On one hand I wanted to go back to work full time to prove to myself that I was more than “just a mom”; I also needed to go back to work full time to make ends meet. On the other hand I wanted to stay at home with my baby boy! I trusted absolutely no one to take care of him the way I did; I didn’t want to work and make money only to give a lump sum to a daycare provider; I would miss our midday adventures and hitting all the children’s spots while everyone else was working; but most of all I didn’t want to miss any of his milestones. The thought of missing his first steps; first words; not being there to potty train…all of those things frightened me. Even the thought of missing his milestones made me feel like a bad mom. 

I spent 8 months away from my baby boy working because that’s what needed to be done…..even more so now that we were on our own. By the beginning of this year what began as a cozy job with understanding management became a real headache. All of a sudden no one understood “working mom” meant mom first; no one understood young babies occasionally get sick which meant mommy needed to take a PTO day; no one understood yup, babies still have quarterly immunizations and unfortunately ER/Urgent Care visits and routine check-ups can’t be lumped into one appointment. No one understood I couldn’t be surprised with random “we need you to stay late days” because well…daycare closed at 6. No one understood yes, daycares take breaks and if no one is able to watch my child than yes, I am forced to stay at home. And certainly NO ONE understood “single mother” aka if I don’t do it no one else will..aka I don’t have help….aka I have to do this parenting thing by myself…aka yes I care about my job but I care about my child more….aka….NO, there really is no one else to help. I was miserable! Frustrated was an understatement and of course because I was frustrated at work I began taking it out on my child. Not physically but I certainly didn’t have the patience required to deal with a toddler. 

One of my extremely close friends knew I was miserable and suggested a job change, something with more of a time flexibility that allowed me to maximize my income while working but still provided time flexibility. She has two amazing children, she’s very rarely missed anything they were doing…heck even practices. She was a BOSS and an INVOLVED mom…she definitely had the lifestyle I wanted for my child…so yup, if she’s suggesting a career change and it allows me to work and be an involved parent let’s do this…..enter Real Estate. 

I’m just starting so I don’t have any highs or lows career wise to share but today I was able to take care of EVERYTHING that needed to be done: I both worked and I was Mommy, involved mommy, fun mommy. So yea, maybe someone was encouraged and inspired by the blog but (only 12hours later) as I remember the real point of the blog, it was to celebrate balance. Today, I was fully able to balance both being a mom and a career woman and it felt great!! Will it always be this easy, no. Will there be some challenges along the way. Absolutely, I’m dealing with a toddler in the throws of the terrible twos not but do I know it’s possible? Absolutely, and that’s what gives me hope, that’s what encourages me to push forward, and for the rest of the weekend (yup, def working the weekend) that’s what I’ll celebrate….knowing that it’s totally possible to be both mom and career woman.

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Freedom?

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Today I took my son to see Sesame Street Road Trip. My mom accompanied us. It was hot as all hell, the lines were long BUT it was free, and most importantly my child enjoyed it (as much as he could between toddler fits about only God knows what). While I could write about the weather, the waiting, and the fun that’s not why I’m writing.

Today was the first time I took my child to a family event, saw other families (both parents) with their children and did NOT get jealous. Today was the first time I took my child to a family event and didn’t feel sad because he “doesn’t know what it’s like to be out with his father.” Today was the first time I took my child to a family event and not only owned what type of family we were but actually enjoyed (minus being hot and sweating balls) it. I mean sure it was refreshing to see the fathers there with their children but I was there, my mom was there…my kid was fine. He was happy. He didn’t miss a beat!

Today my new found acceptance was tested and I didn’t fail. For once in the last 8 months I was “at peace” with what type of family I have. This was so refreshing for me. It was a major victory. My multigenerational family had been there all the time, my mom has always helped out, she’s never felt burdened but today I was happy about her being there. I focused more on being blessed to have her, than feeling cursed or ashamed that it my son’s father wasn’t with the three of us. Today I realized how much of a blessing my son and I were and chose to relish in that.

Acceptance feels great! Acceptance feels like freedom, it’s a new found freedom, this is great. Is it the start of a new beginning? True freedom? This. Is. Acceptance……..and it feels great.

Grief. Part 2

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Third, I mourned the loss of my best friend. Every time life sporadically changed you were there. When I didn’t believe in myself you believed in me. When I questioned whether or not I was good enough you were there to remind me of my accomplishments. When I got caught up in my thoughts you guided me back to reality. When I was scared and felt vulnerable you were by my side. When I felt alone you reminded me I wasn’t. Even when we weren’t dating you were my other half. No one ever understood the dynamics of our relationship; why we were so tight, why we were inseparable , why we always came back to one another. I’m not sure we understood it, I just know we always found our way back to each other. We always balanced one another. You were my calm, I was your storm. We bounced off one another, always laughed together, always shared. If I take things out of the relationship context you’re still there. Your absence is still hard to fill. Your presence is still very well missed…and honestly losing you in this respect is much harder than losing you as a mate. The unexpected loss of 20 years of history is unfathomable. The loss of a connection is indescribable. At least once a week I am inadvertently tasked with figuring out how to fill that friendship void. I’m STILL mourning this loss. Each situation I’m presented with where I want to reach out to you is always different so it causes me to deal with the loss from a different angle. They say time heals everything, I guess 20 years takes more than 9 months. I. STILL. MISS. YOU.

My idea of family?!?!? Busted! You, your shenanigans completely ruined that. This took took forever to get over, yet accepting this piece is what actually brought my newfound PEACE. I used to think our family would be a love story for the ages, a dream…something straight out of a fairy tale…after all not everyone lives to marry their high school sweetheart. Before we ever found out I was pregnant WE. WERE. IN. HEAVEN. House hunting, planning, supporting you as you relentlessly pursued your dream career, you supporting me in total entrepreneurship, us making it work. I honestly don’t think I’d ever been happier; it felt like the stars finally aligned in our favor. I daydreamed about our future children looking like you. I dreamt about all the extracurricular activities we’d have them in…actually we talked about them….family gatherings at the kids’ events…..celebrating milestone. I dreamt of how good you’d be with them. I dreamt of us celebrating marital milestones….silver and golden anniversaries…vow renewals with our children by our side. I cloaked myself in the idea of finally breaking the curse of single moms in my family. After all you already had a daughter whom you were very engaged with. I saw the care and love you out into her and I said “wow, my future babies are going to be so lucky.” Then we got the news, and everything changed. Our beautiful boy was born and you weren’t there. You weren’t involved. You missed everything….literally everything. Work was always your excuse. I knew it didn’t feel right, didn’t seem right but I was still optimistic, taking you at your word….then the other shoe dropped and all of a sudden I was a single mom. You were no longer there, not an option. The dreams I had died the day you couldn’t answer where the hell your mother got such a crazy idea. Our plans died, my future died that day. No more marriage, no more house, no more kids(or at least not all by the same person), no more seeing you as a loving father. My vision of you died. My family died that day. Clearly there was no way I could ever open my heart or trust anyone ever again. And really who the hell dates with kids? You mean I’m supposed to trust another man around my child? Ha! No thanks. DEATH. DEATH OF HOPE. DEATH OF DREAMS. DEATH OF FUTURE. FEAR. LONELINESS. DESPAIR. While losing you as a friend was the hardest to mourn and certainly took the most time, death of a future is a hard pill to swallow. How do I get past this? How do I not sink into a depression and give up?

I prayed; I cried!! I prayed on the way to work, throughout the day. I silently cried myself to sleep at night, or every time I saw what presented itself as a loving family. I cried every time your name came through my phone. I sought therapy. I cried there too. I talked about how much I love and now hated you all at the same time. I cried. I prayed while I cried…I cried while I prayed. I repeated that cycle for months. I went on with my life as though nothing changed. The facade was REAL. I immersed myself in my son and his happiness, afterall his happiness and wellbeing was all that matter at this point. I mourned. I haven’t mourned this much or this hard since losing my grandmother. I. MOURNED, but I held it together in public. The majority of my friends and family had no clue what was going on. I carried on and spoke as if “we” was still a thing. “Our” family was fine. I informed you of things going on with the baby. I wrote your name on all pertinent forms, you were still very much apart of “my” life. My mom circle was still that of 2 parent families; dads of the families still asking “when is he gonna take a day off and have a family day with us?” No one knew I was dying inside, I was miserable and I was attempting to come to grips with a new reality. The one thing I needed was time. Time to mourn, time to grieve, time to cry, time to heal. Time is the ONE thing I felt I couldn’t give myself….because I was now a single parent and my everything needed to go into my sweet baby boy. It’s been 9 months and I’m still processing; I’m definitely healing. I feel stronger, I feel better, there’s no longer a pit in my stomach when I see a 2 parent home. No longer a twinge of jealousy and pain when I see a dad with his child. This is still my cross to bear, my child will NOT bear it. Afterall the mother must bear the pain for the son. For the moment I am no longer grieving and all it took was time…..which led to…..acceptance!

Grief.

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I’ve been a mom 19 months; a single mom 9 months, and yet I only made peace with this maybe 3 weeks ago. Sounds crazy right? How is it that my son’s other 23 chromosomes hasn’t seen him in 9 months, hasn’t helped financially in 6 months, calls….no scratch that texts to check on his child once every 6-8 weeks and I JUST came to terms with what I am?!?

Optimism! Hope! Faith! (All lies)

Turns out when you grew up with someone; have known them more than half your life; had one of the deepest multifaceted relationships with that person; know the cycle of the relationship, and down right love them with every fiber of your being….it takes time to let go of that.

First. I mourned for my child. I mourned the fact that he wouldn’t have a relationship with his dad; mourned the fact that he wouldn’t have a relationship with his father’s family; mourned that my child, my innocent baby boy was flat out rejected. Not only was he rejected, he was kept a secret, and to add insult to injury I was lied to about the rejection!! I was crushed, I was devastated. It honestly felt like I’d failed my son. I never wanted him to be the product of a single parent, never wanted him to know the pain and rejection of being unwanted by your father-a parent who’s supposed to love you, protect you, and take care of you….here he was going through the same thing I went through. What am I supposed to tell him when he gets older and asks about a father? How do ai look him in the eyes and tell him that by no fault of his own his father decided not to be in his life? How do I shield him from thinking “his father’s rejection is his own fault?” How do I stop him from thinking “he did something wrong, or that he’s not good enough?” How do I stop him from feeling unloved. How do I tell him that he was named after his grandfather and father who originally was all in? How do I expect him to want to carry the name of the man who rejected him? Oh. My. God….how could I do that to him? SHAME. GUILT. FEAR. PAIN. IMMENSE PAIN. DEATH. I honestly don’t know how long it took me to mourn all of this. Realistically I’m not sure this part is completely over. My son can’t talk, can’t ask questions, right now has no concept of missing anything so I’m sure when these discussions come about this place will be revisited…but for now it’s dead.

Secondly I mourned the death of my future with this man. He and I dated since the age of 14. If we weren’t dating we were best friends. We’ve weathered sick parents, the death of grandparents and other family members. We weathered terrible relationships, broken engagements, multiple job and career changes. We’ve weathered one unplanned child (and not the one we have jointly), we’ve managed a long distance relationship, jailed siblings. We’ve shared our dreams with one another, encouraged each other, supported one another as we pursued said dreams. We’ve been one another’s peace, rational voice, stress reliever, one another’s biggest challenge. We were discussing marriage, looking for houses, financial planning together, discussing our future children then I have our first child and all of a sudden he’s not yours?!?! RAGE. ANGER. DISBELIEF. INSANITY. USED. MISLED.STUPID.CRUSHED.SHAME, GUILT. PAIN. Did I mention STUPID? DEAD. How am I supposed to handle this? How do I process this? How am I supposed to ever want to open my heart to anyone again? How am I supposed to trust? How could I not see this coming? How could I be so stupid? What about our future? How can you throw everything away? What about our family? So Im just supposed to grow old alone? You’re rejecting me? You were there when my donor died, I told you how it felt to be rejected by him. You said “I’d never have to feel that pain again.” You LIED TO ME? You’re rejecting me?!?! AND our son?!? I don’t even know how to feel. I’m confused. I. Feel. NUMB.

I can’t even process this the way I need to because there’s a little boy involved and he needs me. If I’m happy, he’s happy. If I’m calm, he’s calm. I have to act like everything is fine lest I transfer these emotions to my child. How the fuck does anyone do this shit?

……the mother must bear the pain for the child, he can’t bear this.