(no subject)
Every time I’m reminded of Mother’s Day, I get that feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach. Holidays are not happy times for me. Especially this one.
My first Mother’s Day has set the tone for every other one thereafter though nothing, not even a couple of years back when I spent my Mother’s Day at a hospital waiting to find out if my mom made it through an emergency open heart surgery, has topped how unbelievably awful the first one was.
Aidan wasn’t even a month old, and I had driven about a week beforehand the four plus hours to South Florida alone with him so that his ‘father’ and ‘grandmother’ could see him for the first time.
-I just remembered something. Andrew has always lived with his mom, except for when we lived together. When I went to visit him after having the baby, there was one day when his mother’s family was coming over for something. I just remembered that I was made to go hide in his room with all of Aidan’s things because she didn’t want anyone to know that he had a baby. I remember them telling me how I needed to try to make sure Aidan stayed quiet so they wouldn’t hear him crying. Because, you know, you can control a newborn’s crying patterns and all. I can’t believe I allowed myself to stay there even after the humiliation of something like that. I really couldn’t leave because I had to get something fixed on my car, but I bet if I would’ve told my family, they would’ve done anything in their power to get me out of there. I was too embarrassed and ashamed to tell anyone. It’s probably why I blocked that out until right now. I hope karma gives those people everything they deserve in life and more.
Anyway. Andrew used to work nights. I visited for two weeks, but he hardly paid attention to us. The only times I left his apartment where times when I needed to get diapers or something like that, and god forbid he stayed with the baby for five minutes while I went. He would come home, sleep all day and then wake up around seven or so, grab some food, and leave for work. While I was in his home, I felt like an intruder. I went days without eating and only drinking water when I brushed my teeth or went to the bathroom and grabbed some from the sink because I didn’t feel like I was even allowed out of his room in any of the common areas. He never cared to ask me if I was OK or needed anything, so he never noticed. He probably did (I don’t see how one couldn’t, and didn’t give a fuck). I had very little money since I was on Maternity Leave and he wasn’t helping me pay for our apartment or anything as I suppose he thought he didn’t need to after moving back to his mom’s for work. The lack of money, a flat tire that I had to beg him for financial help to fix so I could go home, and not knowing anyone down in South Florida or being familiar with the area made it so I was totally stuck.
I just kept thinking ‘Mother’s Day is coming up soon. He’ll make it up to me then. I know he’ll do something nice for the baby and I.’ Even his demonic mother had told him and I that if he wanted to take me out that day, she would stay with the baby.
He didn’t. He didn’t even have to work that night. I asked him when he got home from work that morning if I should get myself ready to do anything, and he literally shrugged his shoulders and said ‘I don’t know, I guess maybe if you want.’ So I did. And then he slept. He woke up once at around 8pm. Didn’t direct a word to me, grabbed some cereal and after eating it, went back to bed. He didn’t once that whole day even say ‘Happy Mother’s Day’ to me. He never has.
I’m not a person that is particularly fond or needy of gifts from anyone. All that matters to me is being thoughtful and kind. As much as I hate Andrew, all I’ve ever wanted for Mother’s Day is for him to take three seconds out of his day even through a stupid email or text message to acknowledge how hard I work raising his son completely alone. it’s not that hard to bullshit some slight appreciation for someone that truly does deserve it.
Every year I try to remind myself that I shouldn’t care because his acknowledgment one way or another doesn’t matter. Every year I try to remember that at least I have my own family that appreciates me. But it doesn’t stop the hurt. It doesn’t help, either, that every Mother’s Day, I’m mostly alone. This year will probably be even worse. My sister is going out of town and hasn’t even taken a second to think ‘gee, maybe I should be around for my mom or sister’ and my brother will probably think even less about it. That’s OK, it’s not their cross to bear. I can’t expect for people to act like I would were the shoe on the other foot and shit, if my own kid’s ‘dad’ doesn’t acknowledge my existence, why should I expect it from anyone else? All I hope for is that Sunday will come and go very quickly and that nothing will happen to add extra hardship to the day. I’m trying to scrape around in hopes that I can at least go out to dinner with my mom, son, and youngest brother so that we can celebrate it together if anything. Hopefully it works out. If not, it won’t be the end of the world. I’ll just find other ways to make the day at least special for my own mom. Knowing first hand how hard it is to be a mother now, I always try my hardest to make sure that day is extra special for her.
If anything, I’m confident enough that one day when Aidan gets older, he’ll at least be with me on a day like Mother’s Day, and that will make all of everything else worth it.
My first Mother’s Day has set the tone for every other one thereafter though nothing, not even a couple of years back when I spent my Mother’s Day at a hospital waiting to find out if my mom made it through an emergency open heart surgery, has topped how unbelievably awful the first one was.
Aidan wasn’t even a month old, and I had driven about a week beforehand the four plus hours to South Florida alone with him so that his ‘father’ and ‘grandmother’ could see him for the first time.
-I just remembered something. Andrew has always lived with his mom, except for when we lived together. When I went to visit him after having the baby, there was one day when his mother’s family was coming over for something. I just remembered that I was made to go hide in his room with all of Aidan’s things because she didn’t want anyone to know that he had a baby. I remember them telling me how I needed to try to make sure Aidan stayed quiet so they wouldn’t hear him crying. Because, you know, you can control a newborn’s crying patterns and all. I can’t believe I allowed myself to stay there even after the humiliation of something like that. I really couldn’t leave because I had to get something fixed on my car, but I bet if I would’ve told my family, they would’ve done anything in their power to get me out of there. I was too embarrassed and ashamed to tell anyone. It’s probably why I blocked that out until right now. I hope karma gives those people everything they deserve in life and more.
Anyway. Andrew used to work nights. I visited for two weeks, but he hardly paid attention to us. The only times I left his apartment where times when I needed to get diapers or something like that, and god forbid he stayed with the baby for five minutes while I went. He would come home, sleep all day and then wake up around seven or so, grab some food, and leave for work. While I was in his home, I felt like an intruder. I went days without eating and only drinking water when I brushed my teeth or went to the bathroom and grabbed some from the sink because I didn’t feel like I was even allowed out of his room in any of the common areas. He never cared to ask me if I was OK or needed anything, so he never noticed. He probably did (I don’t see how one couldn’t, and didn’t give a fuck). I had very little money since I was on Maternity Leave and he wasn’t helping me pay for our apartment or anything as I suppose he thought he didn’t need to after moving back to his mom’s for work. The lack of money, a flat tire that I had to beg him for financial help to fix so I could go home, and not knowing anyone down in South Florida or being familiar with the area made it so I was totally stuck.
I just kept thinking ‘Mother’s Day is coming up soon. He’ll make it up to me then. I know he’ll do something nice for the baby and I.’ Even his demonic mother had told him and I that if he wanted to take me out that day, she would stay with the baby.
He didn’t. He didn’t even have to work that night. I asked him when he got home from work that morning if I should get myself ready to do anything, and he literally shrugged his shoulders and said ‘I don’t know, I guess maybe if you want.’ So I did. And then he slept. He woke up once at around 8pm. Didn’t direct a word to me, grabbed some cereal and after eating it, went back to bed. He didn’t once that whole day even say ‘Happy Mother’s Day’ to me. He never has.
I’m not a person that is particularly fond or needy of gifts from anyone. All that matters to me is being thoughtful and kind. As much as I hate Andrew, all I’ve ever wanted for Mother’s Day is for him to take three seconds out of his day even through a stupid email or text message to acknowledge how hard I work raising his son completely alone. it’s not that hard to bullshit some slight appreciation for someone that truly does deserve it.
Every year I try to remind myself that I shouldn’t care because his acknowledgment one way or another doesn’t matter. Every year I try to remember that at least I have my own family that appreciates me. But it doesn’t stop the hurt. It doesn’t help, either, that every Mother’s Day, I’m mostly alone. This year will probably be even worse. My sister is going out of town and hasn’t even taken a second to think ‘gee, maybe I should be around for my mom or sister’ and my brother will probably think even less about it. That’s OK, it’s not their cross to bear. I can’t expect for people to act like I would were the shoe on the other foot and shit, if my own kid’s ‘dad’ doesn’t acknowledge my existence, why should I expect it from anyone else? All I hope for is that Sunday will come and go very quickly and that nothing will happen to add extra hardship to the day. I’m trying to scrape around in hopes that I can at least go out to dinner with my mom, son, and youngest brother so that we can celebrate it together if anything. Hopefully it works out. If not, it won’t be the end of the world. I’ll just find other ways to make the day at least special for my own mom. Knowing first hand how hard it is to be a mother now, I always try my hardest to make sure that day is extra special for her.
If anything, I’m confident enough that one day when Aidan gets older, he’ll at least be with me on a day like Mother’s Day, and that will make all of everything else worth it.