Sometimes I look at my previous posting titles and I wonder if I intended to write an entirely different theme, but somehow got distracted between the title and the body. Wow.
Last night I went over to my MIL’s house, where her brother had driven all the way from California to see her. She is doing so well after her mastectomy, and its always such a pleasure to be around her. Plus LB just eats up the adoration. We exchanged gifts, since I won’t be around the baby daddy side of the family this year.
This made me sad for some reason. I really don’t WANT to be around He-who-shall-not-be-named in the current situation at all, but I love his family dearly. The last two Christmases we have driven the hellish 15 hour drive to Long Beach, CA to see LB’s Auntie. The first time I was 6 months pregnant, the second time, LB was 6 months old.
Part of me had begun to settle into a family tradition, and begun to look forward to it. This year everything is different, and there will be no jaunt to California by the three of us. There is no “three of us” anymore, really. Its LB and Me, and HIM.
Last night when her daddy finally showed up at his mom’s house at 8:40 pm, I had given up on seeing him and was about to walk out the door. So there is a time period of 15 minutes where he clutches LB to his chest and hugs her before saying goodbye for Christmas. She cried and cried when we left, and after she had fallen asleep in the car, I cried.
I shouldn’t have to rip my child away from her dad after only 15 minutes. I shouldn’t have to miss being with a family that I have grown to love. I shouldn’t have to feel guilty that I didn’t try hard enough to keep us together as a family. But it doesn’t matter. I do feel guilty and sad, and I DO have to make these choices that I hate to make.
As I was walking up the stairs to my apartment, a guy who looked 20-something pulled up in a Bronco. He said hi, and I greeted him. He works up at Purgatory and had just gotten off work. He lives about 3 doors down from me, so its nice to know a neighbor. As I was opening my door, he turns to me and asks
“Are you able to give the baby a Christmas this year?”
I was shocked. I just nodded. He said if I ever needed anything, I should just knock on his door.
I thanked him and went inside. I put my sleeping child to bed, and cried and cried and cried.
I can’t really pin point the reason. I could be crying from the kindness of my neighbor. I could be crying because I have never been asked that question and I look like a person who needs help now. Or maybe its because of the horrible car wreck that happened this week, where a 25 year old father-to-be was killed, driving to work from Bayfield. Or maybe I’m crying because I’m lonely, and I don’t want my daughter to be unhappy. Sometimes I’m afraid I’ve create a life for her that is going to be filled with more hardships than most kids have to face.
Whatever the reason, I feel blue today. I know I should be wallowing in the Christmas Spirit, but its hard right now.