Visitation Rights
The end credits started. My boy got up fast to follow along with the CG characters dancing on the tv. I recalled both of us sitting together watching our son trying to work out what he had seen at the end of the first episodes.
This series had just started when my most gentle and loving husband was taken away from our home and placed in protective custody. Now, this many weeks in, our little one has the dance fairly well known. But his father was never here to be able to see that progression.
Nearer to the beginning I had told him that we might want to put off watching it until we could watch it- all of us together with daddy. But one day he came home upset from school- he had had enough of his friends who had constantly been teasing him about it. Jeering him on for not keeping up.
But even now, he smiles at the tv when that show plays.
I'd rather let him have it.
Still, I felt a sense of loss on behalf of my absent husband, which so often before morphed into a sense of guilt. There was the ping, the reminder of how I felt before, but it was only a notification reminding me what I focused on before.
.
At the scene of a crime, while passing through on his way home, he was found in the suspected place and fit the description.
Of course I thought this a misunderstanding. I assured myself it would only be a matter of hours. Then I assured myself just a few days.
It went on like that until now. And now, with this many months passed, I just hope we get the chance to meet again. And soon.
But I can no longer think what I think I should think.
So I remind myself that hope springs eternal.
I'm past the point where I felt it was unfair. I got over my anger at it being wrong. I had to keep a good enough mindset and attitude to keep raising our little on on my own. So I celebrate the good things and keep myself from berating anyone for what seems overwhelming.
.
This afternoon we having visiting rights.
I wonder what kind of face our junior will make today. I am curious, but need to be prepared. My touch doesn't have the same effect as his father's does on him.
The face our beloved little made when he saw his father in handcuffs on the other side of a glass pane-
[He couldn't see us- who'd he think we were?! Such a face he made.. ]
That face, was one he remade often. ...Often enough at first.
But his grief changed as time passed. I watched him bawl loudly and uncontrollably. Then he would scream and yell and smack around at things, until he was so tired he'd burst into wet, hot, frustration.
After I had to repair a few small sized holes he put in the walls, and I had reached a limit, and he was going to cross that limit, so I scooped him up, jauntily, in order to make him know concern, and raised my hand up against him. But I seemed in control enough of my actions and rational enough to stop myself from doing anything. I was able to keep from smacking his back with all the force I could work up.
Although I had refrained from dealing physical harm, after frightening him he toned it down pretty well. He interacts with me differently as well.
Now when it's hard for him, he crawls up the couch beside me, lays out, putting his head down with his face against me. When he cries it's quiet, even when he's experiencing a the occasional heavy exhale. He's had hiccup fits too.
It makes me sad sometimes when I think that our days of face to face cuddle time seems to be over. He seems so small still. Is even getting bigger everyday. Yet, the burden seems unfair enough to have bear.
But, for right now, he's swinging his arms in time with the monsters on the screen.
This series had just started when my most gentle and loving husband was taken away from our home and placed in protective custody. Now, this many weeks in, our little one has the dance fairly well known. But his father was never here to be able to see that progression.
Nearer to the beginning I had told him that we might want to put off watching it until we could watch it- all of us together with daddy. But one day he came home upset from school- he had had enough of his friends who had constantly been teasing him about it. Jeering him on for not keeping up.
But even now, he smiles at the tv when that show plays.
I'd rather let him have it.
Still, I felt a sense of loss on behalf of my absent husband, which so often before morphed into a sense of guilt. There was the ping, the reminder of how I felt before, but it was only a notification reminding me what I focused on before.
.
At the scene of a crime, while passing through on his way home, he was found in the suspected place and fit the description.
Of course I thought this a misunderstanding. I assured myself it would only be a matter of hours. Then I assured myself just a few days.
It went on like that until now. And now, with this many months passed, I just hope we get the chance to meet again. And soon.
But I can no longer think what I think I should think.
So I remind myself that hope springs eternal.
I'm past the point where I felt it was unfair. I got over my anger at it being wrong. I had to keep a good enough mindset and attitude to keep raising our little on on my own. So I celebrate the good things and keep myself from berating anyone for what seems overwhelming.
.
This afternoon we having visiting rights.
I wonder what kind of face our junior will make today. I am curious, but need to be prepared. My touch doesn't have the same effect as his father's does on him.
The face our beloved little made when he saw his father in handcuffs on the other side of a glass pane-
[He couldn't see us- who'd he think we were?! Such a face he made.. ]
That face, was one he remade often. ...Often enough at first.
But his grief changed as time passed. I watched him bawl loudly and uncontrollably. Then he would scream and yell and smack around at things, until he was so tired he'd burst into wet, hot, frustration.
After I had to repair a few small sized holes he put in the walls, and I had reached a limit, and he was going to cross that limit, so I scooped him up, jauntily, in order to make him know concern, and raised my hand up against him. But I seemed in control enough of my actions and rational enough to stop myself from doing anything. I was able to keep from smacking his back with all the force I could work up.
Although I had refrained from dealing physical harm, after frightening him he toned it down pretty well. He interacts with me differently as well.
Now when it's hard for him, he crawls up the couch beside me, lays out, putting his head down with his face against me. When he cries it's quiet, even when he's experiencing a the occasional heavy exhale. He's had hiccup fits too.
It makes me sad sometimes when I think that our days of face to face cuddle time seems to be over. He seems so small still. Is even getting bigger everyday. Yet, the burden seems unfair enough to have bear.
But, for right now, he's swinging his arms in time with the monsters on the screen.