I should back up a little.
In the effort of giving my son the best life possible and the happiest birthday of all time I included his Mom in the festivities. And that really did make him happy. For him, he was surrounded by everyone who loves him dearly. And he had a great day filled with joy and with love. And she was fine. She loves him dearly. And there really is no problem including her. She is pleasant and nice and sweet and does her best to be really great. It honestly isn't her. It's me.
I was cranky. I couldn't shake it. It started this morning when she called to wish The Boy a happy birthday. I gave the phone to him and let her do her thing. After she was done she told him to give the phone back to me. She said, "Can you believe 4 years ago we were in the hospital and you were in labor right now and I was calling your mom...and then we ended up with our precious little boy...?" "Doesn't that make you all warm and fuzzy?"
No. Not it doesn't. Because all I can think about is on that day at that time I truly thought I was going to give my son the greatest life with two moms who loved him more than anything. I thought we were going to raise him together and teach him about love and relationships and watch him grow and we were going to be a family together. And then 4 months after that she told me she wasn't sure if she loved me anymore. And on his 6 month birthday she moved out. And my world fell apart.
And damnit if thinking of his birth directly takes me to those following feelings. I don't want it to. I want to think about that day, the day my precious boy was brought into the world, and just get to remember the joy there. But I don't. And I feel like she robbed me of that. And now, you call me up and expect me to swoon at the memory? Sorry. I don't remember it like that. I can't look at you over the dinner table and share a smile and know that together we made the most perfect boy in the whole world. I look at you over the table and think...you walked away from the most perfect boy in the world. You left me to do this on my own. And now you sit here and smile and pretend like you were always there and that you should get to have the same feeling of parental pride over what an amazing kid he turned out to be.
And I'm so angry about that. Angry about what happened almost 4 years ago, but mostly angry that on a day like today, a day that should have nothing but love and smiles in it, those memories creep back in. What she did has forever tainted my memories. And I want them back. I want them back for my son. I want to get past it all. Not because I need to forgive her. But because I want my joy back. I want to look at that little boy and not feel like we were abandoned. I want to have a special day without remembering the SHIT that went along with it. And I wonder if that will ever be the case.