The Blessin' in the Lesson

So many times I can't help but wonder: WTF is the lesson here? I am looking for the sane, rational answer as to why my baby daddy and I are here, linked inextricably to each other, balancing between two regions of the country by a gossamer thread named Diego. Some folks say that kids choose their parents. Again, WTF??? Why on earth would an unborn soul pick the two of us to bless with his little light?

Moving away has allowed me to have more grace when it comes to said baby daddy. After all, I feel horribly guilty that the dudes see so little of one another. I wish that things had been different. I wish that I would have been treated with respect, had been given more time to succeed at my work, time to enjoy my life and make a life without schlepping a baby on my back (or front) 24/7 for two and a half years. I wish that our therapy would have given us some concrete tools to work with one another, outlined some ground rules that would have allowed us to remain in close proximity without the fallout that occured instead. For the record, I wasn't looking to stay with this man-child...far from it. I was simply asking for a little, tiny bit of help and for the chance to develop a life and times outside of motherhood.

From a distance, I can see that there were ways I could have made it work. I could have hired outside help to watch the baby, I could have applied for state assistance and gone back to work full time instead of trying to take Diego with me to the farm, and relying on the unreliable for back-up care when I really needed to attend a meeting, or just go to work without a baby! I was so attached to the idea that our child needed to be with us, his parents, and no one else, when he was so very small. And I am so grateful, in many ways, that we moved to Philadelphia and I found the farm, because I was given the gift of time with my son when he was a wee baby that many mothers in this era simply don't have. I was vehemently opposed to day care for a child under the age of two. I wished for a way to somehow do it all, and I gave it a very good try. But without that other person to lean on, I became more and more overwhelmed, more and more resentful, more and more angry. I became a person that I didn't like--and it wasn't me. Now with the panacea of time and distance, I feel so much like I've dropped back into my body and soul. I'm Stacy again, and I like me.

In my heart of hearts, I want my child to be able to be closer to his father. I want Diego to grow up seeing his dad whenever he can. Yet, I want to be whole enough to never let my own life become backseat to the life of my child and his father. Living with my family, relying on their help (and having them there when I need them, not when it's convenient for them) is such a gift. Giving Diego a good education, stability, a family. Having some time to myself. I wished I could have had it in Philly with Tim. Not the two of us together, just the two of us agreeing to co-parent successfully and to treat each other with respect and make solid arrangements for caring for our son. Ultimately, I want that! I want a lot. Hence the name of this blog. I'm a spoiled brat, 'cause I always think I can have it all. And I want to spoil my son...not rotten, but with love, with values, with peace. But I don't want to die tryin'. I need to know that the father of my child can meet me halfway. That he can get a job (come on already), make his son proud, help me raise him in a way that I can feel comfortable with. Still, I need to let go of being critical, I need to accept him as he is. I also have to stop ingesting his criticism and cruelty toward me, letting it poison me and distort the beauty that is mine alone to shine out into this world. I couldn't do that when we lived a block from each other. I tried. It just didn't work.

Yes, I have a son. I love him so dearly that I ache each day we're apart. Yet, I have been given a gift of two weeks time all my own, to embrace and love myself for who I really am and meant to be. Not just this inconvenient blob between Tim and Diego. I can't shake the guilt that plagues me each time I leave Philadelphia and the boys say goodbye. But why should I be the one doing all the work, making all the sacrifices? I spin myself around and around and never can catch the tail of this beast. I know there is a reason that I am tethered to these two souls in this life. What is the lesson in this, and how can we learn it together without blasting each other apart?