Tag Archives: rejection

Son, I Too Have Asked “Where Is Your Daddy?”

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Another month in 2020, another month under a Stay at Home Order. t was my intention to release this blog last week but I spent my free time searching for a dog for my son. No such luck yet, but the rationale behind him getting a dog is an entirely different blog altogether. I’ve recently written a few blogs detailing how my son has been questioning and for as much as a toddler can- working through the answer to his burning question “where is my daddy?” This is something that I’ve continued to both pray on and blog about. I’ve gotten some good suggestions from you all and for that I thank you. This particular blog is going to take a different turn. It’s something I wrote to my son’s father on my son’s first birthday but never sent. When I found it in the notes section of my phone I debated writing it out and putting it away for my son to read at a much later age-not because I want him to hate his father but because I originally thought it would help if he saw that he wasn’t the only one with that question. As I sat reading the letter I decided against writing it out for my son to read; I feel it’s too emotional and I honestly don’t want him to combine my past pain with whatever pain he may be working through at that (future) stage of his life. I also flat out just don’t want my son to worry about me, that’s not his job. I have however decided to share the letter with my readers. I want people to know and “see” that healing is possible. Yes, healing hurts and it takes time but it’s worth it. I want people to understand I wasn’t always strong, or forgiving. I want whoever needs to hear this to know someone once walked in your shoes; felt your pain; and plans to make it to the other side. The other side being not only healing and forgiving my son’s father BUT also opening my heart to love again. You, too can do this. So here goes:

11/13/18 this day was so painful. It should’ve been very happy and honestly in spurts it was but as has been the last month, there were random periods of tears. Yup, our child’s first birthday and I cried….several times actually. The first time I cried was because I wanted to text you, well obviously that wasn’t an option but I realized the very reason I wanted to text, you honestly wouldn’t have been able to share with me. I wanted to reminisce, recall what was going on at certain points, reflect on how we felt or reacted to different events on the day I brought our son into the world. Slowly, I remembered you weren’t there. I couldn’t reminisce or recall with you; and there certainly could be no reflection because you weren’t there. Flashback to one year ago, I needed you so much that day. I needed you to hold my hand; to calm my nerves; to reassure me that everything was ok and I was doing a good job….cuz well I didn’t believe the nursing staff. I thought they kept telling me that just to keep me calm, to keep my blood pressure and heart rate down, to keep me from throwing up. I remember finally deciding to get the epidural after approximately 24 hours of labor with very little pain meds thinking “I don’t want this but if I end up having a c-section I also don’t wanna be knocked out and in recovery for 2 hours and not being able to hold my baby. My baby needs to feel one of his parents within the first few minutes of life…not after 2 hours.” I agreed, and in came the anesthesiologist explaining to me that I needed to be very still while he was placing the epidural in my back, even if I had a contraction I had to be still. If I moved I could risk him hitting a nerve and paralyzing me. Welp, the first time he tried I had one hell of a contraction, moved, screamed….he jumped and barely got the thing in. He took a step back, looked at it said it was terribly placed and he was gonna take that one out and reinsert it. Sir, I barely got through one attempt now you saying you wanna do it again? I guess the second time was a charm because he placed it perfectly and once it was in I immediately felt the medicine(sweet relief). 

After getting the epidural I remember falling asleep, finally some peace. I woke up  2-3 hours later, got rechecked, assured I’d finally made it to 9cm (because if they were wrong again I would’ve found the energy to scream at them) and being told “whatever you do don’t push; we’re gonna break everything down and set up for your son’s birth.” The. Longest. 30. Mins. Of. My. Life. I wanted to push so many times while they were setting up. It took forever, or so I thought. Finally, the doctor came over and asked if I was ready to deliver I told him no. 26.5 hrs later, the moment I’d been waiting on and I told him no. He asked me why not and I told him you weren’t there yet and you couldn’t miss it. He gave me an empathetic look, stared right into my eyes and told me it wasn’t like the ultrasound where they could keep playing around until you got there. This was different and the baby couldn’t wait. It was time and I had no other options. Fighting back tears I took a deep breath and said ok. Thus the delivery of our son began. 

For as terrible as labor was delivery was  surprisingly easy. It took us about 30 mins. I wore the oxygen mask between pushes to ensure my levels stayed high and that the baby was getting enough energy. It took around 7 pushes, no seriously it didn’t take much. Around the 4th push I looked over at my mom and asked where were you? I whinned about you missing it and her response was he’s probably with his daughter. I asked if you’d texted for an update and she said don’t worry keep pushing…..which meant no. Again, fighting back tears I kept pushing and a few minutes later the most beautiful baby I’ve ever laid eyes on was born. For the first time of many over the course of the last year I had to put my feelings aside and care for him. He made that easy, he immediately snuggled right under me once he was placed into my arms. Which, by the way took a little extra time as they originally didn’t like his heart rate. After a few minutes, his heart rate slowed to a pace they were comfortable with, they cleaned him, measured, weighed in and placed him in my arms. True love at first sight. Looking at him made me happy; holding him made me happy; him snuggling into my chest made me happy. And suddenly I felt too much joy to be sad. All I could do was wish you were there too. 


It dawned on me yesterday while reminiscing on the day our son was born that the day of his birthday was the second time I felt he and I weren’t a priority in your life; unfortunately it was the first time I felt you rejected us. Yesterday I realized I hadn’t forgiven you for not being there, but how could I? You were not there the day I needed you most. On top of that you never apologized for missing it. Ok so you started a new job that day, but you could’ve came back after work. You could’ve called and talked to me, hell you could’ve FaceTime-d me. I would’ve at least felt like you made an effort had any of that been done. Instead you did nothing, you didn’t even communicate to me that you weren’t coming back. Yea, that was the first instance of rejection and that realization triggered this particular burst of tears. That’s our son’s birth story, now you know how it went…and as a result why I cried. 

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.