I have been the world’s worst about writing lately. I won’t make excuses, I know I could find the time. Although my days have been unexpectedly filled over the past five months, time isn’t the issue these days as much as…
…Sloth, depression, anxiety, humiliation, fear of judgment, anxiety (oops, did I say that already?), embarrassment, self doubt, lack of self esteem…
The list could fill this page.
I have not been myself in quite some time. I recognize this, so I guess that, at least, is a good thing. I am tearful on good days, and full out bawling in the bathroom on bad ones. The sun is attempting to shine through, and the fact that I can see that, and say that, is promising.
There are physical issues that do not help any of this, and actually likely cause a lot of it. For about a year and a half now, I have been without insurance, therefore unable to obtain the medication I desperately need on a daily basis. Due to the circumstance that have led to my days being full as mentioned above, I was able to obtain insurance coverage again recently, and am slowly titrating back on the medication I need.
It is a slow and painful process. Especially when factoring in raising a two year old.
Spoiler alert: No, I didn’t magically have a child. I have been unable to do that for about 19 years or so.
The math doesn’t add up, so if you’ve been following along since I started writing here, don’t bother trying to make it do so. Husband and I have been together four years and some change. Things happened and a child was the end result of those things.
Said child was not allowed to be a part of our lives until the beginning of this year, right after he turned two; and even then, only my husband was allowed, not me. Evil person that I am, and all. I love being cast in that role; apparently, I’m good at it. It became apparent very quickly that the situation the child was in was not a good one, so my husband took immediate steps to correct it. In a matter of days, the child was in our home, and has been here since.
As it stands right now, we have joint custody. The mother has limited visitation; a few hours on Sundays and a few hours two Saturdays per month.
I have not been the primary caregiver of a toddler in quite some time. My bio children are 24 and 19. I have aided others in raising their children since then. Others have lived in my home with their children. But none of that is the same. I was 17 years old when my oldest was born, 22 years old when my youngest was born.
I am almost 42 years old, right now. This is a whole new ball game.
None of this is said to complain. I love this child as if he was my own. I say this to note, raising a two year old at almost 42 is completely different than raising one at 19 or 24. I notice I have more patience in a lot of things, which seems kind of odd to me. I do not have the energy I had way back when, but I work around it.
What strikes me as, I’ll go with odd, about this entire situation, is the fact that this child’s mother (we will call her egg donor, ED for simplicity’s sake), has never met me. Ever. She’s never requested to meet me. And apparently, doesn’t want to meet me.
As a parent, this blows my mind. I can not imagine willingly handing over my child, even to the other bio parent, knowing that someone I’ve never met is going to be raising my child on a daily basis. To add to the things I don’t understand, ED wanted my husband to have NOTHING to do with his own son for the first two years of this child’s life, and all of a sudden (due to an extreme change in her personal circumstances), it’s a totally different story.
It just adds to my lack of faith in humanity, honestly. I know there are things about this whole deal that I don’t know, and probably never will. I will state that she’s young, which is no excuse, just further facts (just turned 23). I can’t say what her maturity level is for certain, as, I don’t know her. I can only say where I was at 23. Which, based on what little I do know, was a completely different place in life. I had a six year old and a one year old, a career, a husband, a house with a mortgage, two paid for vehicles, and a shit ton of stress because I was in a domestic violence situation that I didn’t know how to get out of.
She has a two year old she really doesn’t have any responsibility for at this point, except what she chooses to, she’s pregnant with a married man’s child (not my husband!) due in about a month, after almost a year of having no stable place to live she just got a place, she has a job in fast food with no guarantee of it still being there when she leaves to have her baby (she has only been there for two months), no drivers license, her car is illegal (invalid plate, no insurance, no inspection), warrants for her arrest for failure to appear in court.
We had baby items put away that we had gotten a while ago for my husband’s sister that we ended up keeping, so I sent them with my husband to give to her. She had nothing for this new baby. She did end up throwing herself a baby shower last weekend; I have no idea what she got from that.
I know I’m rambling, but this is truly a rambling situation. I just don’t understand a lot of it, other than this child needed somewhere stable to be, and he got it. He’s the sweetest thing, when he isn’t being a terrible two. He didn’t say much when he first got here. That changed quickly. I talk to the dog and the cats all day, so of course, I talk to him. Now, he talks back. I was “Mommy” from day one, and continue to be. His choice.
He can count to ten, he loves to sing, the “dance break” on Octonauts is one of his favorite things, but Paw Patrol trumps all. Anything car/truck related is the best, loud noises terrify him, and he’s obsessed with blankets. He kind of terrorizes the cats. We are working on that, along with potty training. They aren’t related, but they are both hard things.
I won’t share a photo, as this is too public of a venue, but if we are truly friends (and you know who you are) you’re welcome to leave a private note and ask, and I’ll gladly share my Snapchat info. I post photos and videos there all the time. It’s the only place I know for sure I’m not followed by anyone connected to ED. There are still some legal things pending.
I won’t promise, but I will try to be better about writing. It’s good for me, and I know I can’t pour from an empty cup.