I’ve been AWOL again, Summer seems to plunge me into depression while Winter perks me up! Anyways, I’ve been thinking a lot about how my daughter doesn’t have her father.
She’s going to grow up with her father living in a different state. Halfway across the US, he is working and living without his daughter. I feel such GUILT about not following him. But I know that staying in California was the right thing to do. For myself.
Yes, I chose the selfish option. I chose my happiness. I want my daughter to watch her mother be HAPPY. Maybe because I spent years watching my own mother play the martyr, and always wanting more. I’ve listened to her complain about my dad for numerous reasons. I’ve watched their marriage build on a shaky foundation. I chose to never let my daughter see me cry because my husband needed “space”.
Yes, my father walked away from his family multiple times because he needed “space”. But this isn’t about him so much. (He was a great dad in many other respects, but their relationship turmoils will affect me for years to come)
I didn’t want my daughter to feel anything I’ve felt. I want her to look at her mother and hope to be as happy. I chose me.
And now I have to live with the repercussions of my decisions. Currently, they’re minuscule. She doesn’t remember living with her father as he moved away when she was one. We live with my parents, so my own father has stepped in to provide her with a male role model. And it makes me happy they’re so close…because she obviously craves male attention.
But late at night, I cry. I cry because her father wont see her grow up. I hate myself that someday, I’ll have to sit with her and explain why he left. And maybe she’ll hate me or she’ll cry over him. And it breaks my heart he’s missing so much of her life because we made all the wrong choices.
Yesterday, my daughter asked to see my boyfriend. She calls him by his first name – and she wanted to see him. He provides her stability and fun. Plays french fry sword fights and tucks her into bed with a lullaby.
Yesterday, my daughter called her grandfather, Daddy. (She normally calls him Baba) And I couldn’t get her to stop. She must hear other kids at daycare talk about their daddies, and she has nothing to say. She must assume that Baba is her daddy… What else could she know?
Her real father never calls, never asks about her… He sent me a stupid Facebook meme a couple weeks ago, and never asked about his only daughter.
She knows him by pictures and the rare times I can get him on the phone.
She is surrounded by love and attention. I am with a man who is happily taking her on, but even he cannot understand how her real father makes no attempt.
I asked him if he could possibly come out – it’s cheaper for him to travel here then it is for me to travel there. And he ASKED ME FOR HELP. I’m not even bugging him for the child support he agreed to pay. I’m shouldering all of the financial responsibility myself and he’s asking me FOR HELP!?
I’m sorry this turned out so long, but I’m so upset. I hate that I’ve done this to her, and if I could go back in time, I would change so many things. But I can’t.
I can only do the best with what I have. And you can be certain, she will know that I love her. That I care for her, and that when she needs me, I’ll be there.