Tuesday, November 13, 2007

That's My Truck - or whatever.

So I haven’t been sleeping well. I think I’ve been too cold to sleep. And when I lay there awake, my head is full of a million things. I worry about situations that require deep thought. And then I try to find a solution with my eyes closed. This week I’ve pondered ways to heal a broken heart and heal a tired head. I’ve worried about my walk (& many of yours) through the upcoming holidays and what we’ll all look like when it’s over.

We had another non-bio support group last night. One of the women sat with us through her daughter’s fourth birthday. It’s the first birthday where they haven’t been together. I wondered how she did it. I watched her and waited for some kind of implosion. Heartbreaking.

I thought about how I felt missing Gracie’s 3rd birthday and remembered how painful it was. The only thing that kept me above water was my pending court case and luckily, it was almost over by then and I saw her just two months later. But this girl won’t see her daughter. And her daughter won’t see her mother. Not in two months, not in two years. She has moved to 'somewhere Carolina' and is now being raised by her other’s mother’s new husband. And I don’t know if that’s any more difficult that your child being raised by another mom - another anyone. It doesn't matter. The point is that someone else has stepped into her shoes and is taking her to school, feeding her dinner and brushing her hair. Again, my thoughts went back to Gracie.

Is there someone else caring for her in my place? I like to think it's impossible to replace the kind of love I have for her. And is it selfish that the very thought of it makes me sick to my core? I’m sitting here begging for any little part in parenting this child - a human I love most in the world and someone else can walk in, develop a relationship with her mom and take my place – just like that. And of course I want her to be loved. Absolutely, I encourage you all to love her! But when I think about it, it still hurts. That someone else could be wearing my shoes and holding my brush and baking my cake and telling my stories and dressing my barbies and wiping my tears...

And I know, some “anonymous” person will chime in and tell me that I should only wish for her happiness and that if the mother of her is happy then Gracie will benefit 10 fold. I get it. Please don’t say it. & don’t think I don’t wish/pray for their happiness and health in every prayer and every fountain. Every day and every night. I do. But you get it, right? Straight/Gay/Whatever. It’s someone else, right? Isn't there a country song that says something like, "there's some guy driving MY truck that's parked in My front yard and he's playing with MY dog"... or something? I swear it's a song. And you know who would know? The mother of her! That's who would know that song and she'll read this and think, "well, you should've done this or you shouldn't have done that..." But she hears me. As you read this, she's reading it too. And I don't want my truck back or my yard back. I want my daughter back. & if you're allowing someone else to love her 1/2 as much as I do, I simply beg you not to replace me.

I said "ever" and I meant it.