I’ve always been mindful to keep A in my life. I mean, originally, I had intended to wash him out completely. Yet, when The Kiddo was born, I silently said to myself, ”I know he’d want to be here”. Maybe I said it to make myself feel less alone, but my instincts were always that at some point, some day, he’d want to know The Kiddo.
That, and there was a small, tiny part of me that still fantized about us ending up together. Even when The Kiddo was whisked away, I still wondered if that was the only piece I needed in order to prove I could raise him- being with A.
So I kept him around in my life. Of course, I didn’t really give anyone else access to him, save the one occasion where he did make contact with The Kiddo’s parents, which was an epic disaster, as I have been told. From a distance I’ve watched him change in a lot of ways, and not change in others. I just wanted him in my corner, that one connection that only I had access to. Yes, he has his shares of flaws, especially in this adoption constellation, yet at the end of the day he is still The Kiddo’s father. Even if he’s very invisible right now.
Occasionally, he’ll pop up; He’ll text, and I’ll text. We’ll comment on our lives, and then that’s all. Sometimes I’ll send him a picture of The Kiddo, just to make sure he knows that The Kiddo is out there, and that one day he really should think about what that means. But mostly, our relationship is very distant, like the casual friend you went to school with.
I will admit, and ashamedly so, that I do have feelings for him still. Not the kind that I would jump into his arms and run away into the sunset with him, but the kind that happen and remain, when you share a history with someone. The kind that are etched into your being when you share a child in common. I want him to have the best life he can have. I want him to grow up, and be happy, find love.
He does, despite the bad parts of our history, deserve that. Because I do love him, even if he let me down when I was pregnant.
I say all of that, I can write it, but this weekend, when he told me his long time, fabulous girlfriend was pregnant, did I feel like screaming at him in words that resembled jibberish? I wanted to throw my phone across the room, and stomp on it like a mega superstar diva. I wanted to tell him to go to hell. I wanted to ask him why she was different, why she was so special, and if he would finally realize that out there, in this big world, there is a little boy he has never met. A boy who looks exactly like him, who may want to meet him one day.
I wanted to ask those things. I didn’t ask those things.
Instead I congratulated him, and then vented a bit on Twitter.
Days now separate me now from when I got the news, and when I think of it, my head hurts. Realistically, I know the answer to those questions- he’s not a 17 year old boy any longer. He’s a grown up, who is finally ready to trek into the world of being an adult. This time, maybe, it’s different. I know how age plays an astronomical difference in any scenario for some people. Maybe he’s found the love of his life, and that’s magnetized him to her, so much that he won’t hit the ground running, or accuse her of cheating.
And that’s what hurts, I guess. We did love each other. When I try to write it down that we may not have ended up together, I can’t do it. We had some insurmountable odds stacked against us, but with the right resources, the right support, we may have been able to make it. Sure, the agency loaded me down with all the reasons we might not make it- reasons that I realistically know now apply to all couples no matter their age. But, there was a small sliver of hope in there, and that’s why I feel the burn of this news.
All of this aside, I think it’s my Mama Bear instinct prowling out. I want The Kiddo to be important to him, the same way he is important to me. I want The Kiddo to be a part of his life, when he is ready, because despite my actions to punish him for our breakup, I believe that he has a role to play in the bigger picture of this adoption storyline. And right now, The Kiddo, as far as I know doesn’t register on his radar, very much.
That bothers me. A lot. Because The Kiddo is his son, and he should be important to him. He should be upset that he’s never met him. Or held him. Or seen him. I want him to be important to him.
And yet, as the bear within begins to lower her growls, I also realize that what I want is not what necessarily should happen. Maybe one day, this connection I have with A will not be in vain, and I can say, “Yes, I know where your dad is, I will make sure you can get in touch with him”. Or maybe one day, A will initiate the connection that is lacking right now.
Maybe one day, he will understand how important this little boy is. Because one day, I think that The Kiddo will need to know that he was important to both of us, if even for a moment.