Tag Archives: pain

Where’s My Daddy?

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I decided to take a break from logging my homeschool experience to write about another incident that peaked about a week or so ago. Obviously you know where this is going because of the title so allow me to build the excitement a bit. One of the questions I knew I’d eventually have to answer is “where’s my father?” Because of the pain of rejection associated with the question I’d always hoped I was engaged or married when my son asked this; but I also hoped he wouldn’t ask before maybe four or five years of age. Engaged and or married to my son’s “new” father was optimal as it allowed me and my husband to jointly explain that his biological father chose to leave however his “new” father made a much tougher decision by choosing to love him. We’d explain how choosing to actively love; raise; and be in his life was a positive choice and it was one that everyone could be happy and at peace with. He’d understand both the power of choices AND the power of love. Older, allowed my son to better communicate his potential pain; questions; anger; any emotion he felt. Older allowed me/us to understand what he was feeling, and even if he tried to hide it we’d be able to figure it out based on his actions.

I prayed to God that I’d be engaged or married AND that my son would be older when he asked about his father; however neither was the case. My son initially asked about his father in November of 2019. He’d just turned two and in my mind this was much too heavy a topic for a two year old to discuss. Attempting to spare his feelings I ignored his question; needless to say that didn’t work long. He began frequently asking in which case I answered “I don’t know.” Again, a short, quick answer in attempt to avoid a conversation. Extremely uncomfortable with him asking about his dad I talked to his godfather and asked him to spend a little more time with him and to try to make it to his Christmas play (I was almost certain my son realized the other children’s fathers were at the Thanksgiving Play but not his). I also explained the situation to my mom and my son’s two godmothers and asked the three of them to stand in prayer with me for how to deal with the situation. After about one month my son stopped asking about his father. Thank GOD!!!! Thinking we were passed the situation I totally stopped praying about it and I subsequently told my mom and his godparents that he’d stop asking.

My relief was short lived; in February of this year (2020) my son started the “where’s my daddy” question again. In fact in my opinion it had gotten worse because now not only was he asking where his father was but if he saw a man (and I do mean any random man) he’d ask “is that my daddy” or shout “Daddy!” I wasn’t necessarily embarrassed by him calling other random men “Daddy” which is a first(but I believe I wasn’t embarrassed because they couldn’t hear him). I would however explain to my son the man in question wasn’t his father and I don’t know where his father is. Shocked and somewhat irritated at this question’s continuous re occurrence I again told my mother and his godparents. In separate conversations we all agreed there was no point in contacting his father, after all he did walkout on him. What was contacting him going to accomplish? We began praying about the situation again, but I took it a step further and asked one of his godmothers who is divorced how would she deal with it if we were in this situation with one of her children. Her answer wasn’t necessarily one I agreed with nor wanted to hear; she said she’d tell them the truth. I quickly disputed her answer saying it was different because her children were older. She responded with “that may be true but even if they were his age I’d tell them the truth…they deserve to know.” As much as I hated to admit she was right, he did deserve to know but why so soon? Was that really the only way to handle this?

A couple of weeks after this conversation with his divorced godmother my son threw one of his grand tantrums. He was kicking; screaming no; pushing off; just full blown shenanigans all because he couldn’t get his way. Somewhere in the conversation I told him that his current behavior was making it really hard to enjoy him and want to do things with him; and that was a huge problem for him as I was the only parent he had. I could see the intrigue on his face so I explained-he’d been asking about his father and the truth is he doesn’t have an earthly father. He has a Heavenly Father, one who loves him dearly; and He hadn’t sent him an earthly father yet. One day He will but until then all he (my son) has is his Heavenly Father and me. We’re a team and we have to work together and have one another’s back.

My son was heartbroken at hearing he didn’t have an earthly father. I had to remind him that I loved him and would always be here for him. His tantrum subsided but now he was sad. While I was hurt by his sadness and heart brokenness so early in life I was relieved it was out. He knew the truth but he was also reassured; and it was in the softest most truthful way I could imagine telling him. Because he’s too young to remember our talk he still randomly asks. I remind him of our talk and tell him to keep praying for an earthly father. This has been extremely difficult. I believe more than anything it was the one part of single parenting that I didn’t want to deal with. Yet it was unavoidable so it was equally important to deal with my own pain in order to be able to help him deal with his. It’s not over by far but the saving grace is I worked through my own healing therefore I can focus on his.

I wish this was avoidable; I wish it would’ve gone the way I wanted it to but for some reason it didn’t. I honestly don’t have time to dwell on the issue nor do I have time to sit and pout. All I can do at this point is attempt to keep him around positive male influences; and continue praying for the right person to come into our lives. If you have any suggestions or you’ve been through this and handled it in a different and successful way please feel free to comment below.

A Parent’s Worse Nightmare

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The world stopped Sunday upon receiving news of Kobe Bryant’s untimely death. I personally almost passed out in disbelief. According to my mother she knew someone had transitioned based on the tone of my voice. I was totally taken aback and once I heard the number of victims who were on the flight it sent me over the edge even more! ” Oh my God, was Vanessa with him? If so that means ALL the girls?!? Oh my God, please don’t tell me an entire family is gone. As the we weaved through the rumors and (mis)information being presented at the speed of light we learned Vanessa wasn’t with him; which in my mind reasonably meant the baby wasn’t aboard the helicopter. This should’ve calmed my nerves, lightened the blow but it didn’t. I immediately screamed “GiGi”!!!!! Her death was yet to be confirmed BUT I was already gone. I bawled the entire day; and once her death was confirmed well it became too much. My own son staring at me in horror, not understanding what’s going on didn’t make the situation any better. I attempted to talk to one of my close friends about it and I immediately realized why I was taking this so hard. Yes, he was an amazing player; yes his death was so untimely and so unexpected but none of that is what drove me to the brink of unbearable sorrow. None of that was why I couldn’t look at; deal with; or be involved with my own son. This hit differently, it hurt like hell because I’m a parent; a mother and whether it’s for the good or bad things affect you differently as a parent.

Motherhood, parenthood in general has a way of uniting us. It’s one of those things that we inherently understand. We may have varying circumstances but realistically there is more about being a parent that unites us than divides us and well we aren’t afraid to show that, to build community and relationships from it. The unbearable pain I felt was as a a parent; it was so complex and yet once I was able to somewhat dissect it it made so much sense. The realization of more children and broken families built on the grief I was experiencing. This piece is in no way indicative of what’s going on or me trying to say how they do or should feel, It is no way what I know to be happening. This piece is just what I FELT on their behalf and the mini directions in which my mind wandered. For me writing was necessary to process my own grief.

Fear, Failure and Realizing Mortality:

I can’t imagine nor do I want to experience what it feels like to know what’s coming and to not be able to do anything to save your baby girl. Like seriously in the moments leading up to the crash I imagine all he could do was tell her he loved her; pray with her; and hold her. While spiritually and maybe emotionally that’s a lot and the best thing to do(prayer); physically and mentally it’s nothing. I HATE feeling helpless in minor situations with my son….you know he fell and I couldn’t catch him; he’s teething; and I can’t take the pain away; things like that. Can you imagine how hopeless that has to feel; to know he couldn’t stop the inevitable; to know he couldn’t take the pain away; to see that fear on her face?!?! I’m sure for a brief moment he felt like a failure. Parents but men especially pride themselves on providing for and protecting their families. Even in those last minutes I’m sure it messed with his manhood to know he couldn’t do anything. In all honesty I’m sure for another brief second he felt responsible for what was happening; after all it was his helicopter. Even if he didn’t feel those emotions (and I seriously hope he didn’t) knowing she won’t live out her potential; knowing she’s about to be robbed of her future; and that he is about to lose time with his other children…that’s so much pain. It hurts to fathom he died possibly blaming himself for her death…and in the end felt helpless. I would imagine his emotional death hurt more than his physical death.

Disbelief, Brokenness , and The Unthinkable:

Not even sure where to begin with this one. To carry and bear a child; watch them grow up; witness their milestones; prepare for the future because you know greater is coming and then to have it all snatched away in the blink of an eye -the immense grief the surviving parents must feel. What those parents wouldn’t give for one more hug; one more kiss; one more I love you mom/dad; more time to watch them grow….I’m honestly not sure how anyone finds closure from that. I imagine it feels as though a piece of your heart has left. How do you move on from that?

If you’re V how do you still mother your other children young children at that while grieving. How do you explain to your toddler who has very little sense of what’s going on that her sister and father won’t be back? How do you not get annoyed with her for continuously calling out for them? How do you separate their lack of understanding from your own grief? How do you mother a newborn and continue to unselfishly give of yourself when you’re in shock; horrified; in disbelief?

The father with the toddler who kept crying out for mommy……how do you deal? My heart broke again listening to him talk about how his baby crying out for mommy broke him. Jesus, how does one attempt to process grief when you have a toddler adding to it? You hurt for your children!!! Let’s be honest, as a toddler what memories will they have of their parents or siblings? Not very many. You hurt because their robbed of a parent, continuing a relationship, and what could’ve been. Mourning both the present and the future can be extremely hard, almost crushing.

AND in my opinion it gets worse for all the parents that have to identify and bury their children. How do you bury a child? No one is prepared to do that; we aren’t taught how to; aren’t given any direction. How do you get closure, you have to identify a body?!?!? Not a whole body possibly riddled with needle wounds after a fight with a terminal illness; not a body riddled any other bruises or wounds…unfortunately and perhaps what hurts most is possibly a mangled body; charred; in pieces, missing pieces; or no body at all. It’s hard enough to lose a child; it makes closure and acceptance even harder with the possibility of the gruesomeness these parents must face. They honestly can’t get that last hug; look at the gentle faces again; kiss their cheeks; or move their daughter’s hairs behind their ear.

My Jesus how it must feel to lose a piece of your heart and to grieve without physical closure. In the words of the hymn, “Oh what needless pain we bear.”

Horrified, Guilt, and Regret:
I don’t know how true this is but it’s been said on several occasions that Kobe and his parents weren’t on speaking terms. While I hope this isn’t true, I mourned for them too, but in a different way. If it is true they weren’t on speaking terms there’s a sense of guilt and regret that probably hits them. A case of the “what if” or “should’ve, would’ve, could’ve”. Maybe even a case of “I thought there’d be more time.” Unfortunately time is a fragile thing, it is both with us and against us. We never know how much of it we have and so it’s important to make every moment count; to attempt amends; and to do our best to have functional relationships with the ones that matter most. I honestly hope they aren’t mourning the loss of a son and granddaughter as well as the loss of possible reconciliation. I hope they aren’t mourning a granddaughter and the lost ability to get to know her. I hope they were at peace with their son. Yet, if they weren’t that’s a different type of loss altogether. It’s a loss I can’t exactly put into words but I felt and understood it all too well. While everyone’s loss is devastating if there was no relationship with their son and granddaughter that loss is more devastating because it comes with a side of guilt and resentment.

In the End:

In the end it took me a few days to sort through my feelings, and to compose myself enough to to put this into words yet after dissecting all of this I understood exactly why I felt her pain; why I felt his pain; and the pain of his parents and all the parents involved. I mourn(ed) those things with and for them. For some reason this commonality of parenthood really allowed me to empathize with them and perhaps understand a smidgen of the pain they’re feeling. It was important to understand this burden; this grief; this pain because while I need to pray for them I also need to learn from it. Even though Ionky have a toddler sooner rather than later I need to figure out a way to explain death and grief to him. And while this may not be a common idea I think it may be smart for me to game plan how to deal with grief while parenting; after all I am a parent and it will happen. In the end I wish this never would’ve happened to them but I no matter how it hurts I’m not going to question God. We just have to pray for the families, it”s really all we can do.

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.