confession, family, gratitude, journey, parenting

the depths of despair…

Father’s day was one of those frustrating days that, for all intents and purposes should be wonderfully reflective but because life has a way of complicating things- it became less so. 
Significantly less, honestly… 
On Saturday Chw was short tempered and moody. We’d had a great Friday night, and he’d slept in that morning so, for the life of me, I couldn’t quite psychoanalize why he was being cantankerous. For the most part Gen and I ignored his mood, and Amanda went to work. As the day progressed, and we made our way to the Roller Derby bout- he seemed to even out and all was right with the world again. 
Enter Sunday morning. Homemade cinnamon rolls, warm and gooey… Cards, kisses, hugs, doting affection, new clothes and plans for taking him to his dream museum while we are on vacation- were passed out. Happiness flooded around us, or should have. 
Then I remember… For us, Father’s Day always sucked. 
How could I forget? 
There is the slap-in-your-face reminder that we had craptacular father experiences growing up- (aside from my foster dad, as I’ve mentioned, but the details only complicate this further- so moving on.) And then, when we were still but babies ourselves Father’s Day (and Mother’s Day) served as a blatant kick-in-the-teeth reminded of the babies we’d lost. 
Well into our 30’s, we don’t dwell on such things now. My husband is a truly great dad and we love our kids more than we can possibly sum up in words and phrases. I was one hundred percent eager to shower him with the adoration he deserves- but from the start the day seemed off. 
Then, during a quiet mid-morning moment he confessed to me why his mood had been off the day before. 
Because he feels like a fake dad. 
A fake dad… 
And I couldn’t hug him hard enough. Then Genny took him (and me) to see Kung Foo Panda 2 and it sort of made me want to crawl in bed and cry the day away. For my husband. For our kids. All he wanted today, honestly, was to spend the day with us. He wanted his life to feel real, validated and authentic. But for him, it’s already (by the nature of life) a sensitive day… And for our oldest daughter, it’s just an unexplainable complicated day. Instead it sort of took on this element of sadness… 
Sadness sucks. 
And then, when he went out of his way to do something nice, his family just sort of heaped on the hurt. Also with details far too complicated to delve into here- he came home emotionally beaten and trying to put on a brave face. He actually felt GUILTY for ruining our efforts, so he spent the rest of the day pretending. 
All in all, it’s far too much to bear for one man. I felt so helpless… 
The morals of this melancholy tale are- 
– infertility/miscarriage sucks ass everyday, but some days are far worse than others. (primarily Father’s Day, Mother’s Day, baby showers, etc…) 
– loving kids, as though they were your own, who have been hurt before you is hard. So hard. So sad because you love them and though some wounds heal, those scars will always be a part of who they are. Also, like an ugly monster, those scars will rise up and effect you on the biggest, most significant of occasions… and on holidays. Like Father’s Day and Mother’s Day. 
– Sometimes life is unfair and it sucks. 
– Being sad unexpectedly, or still hurting from something that was a long time ago isn’t self pity- it’s just the way it is sometimes. Losses, like those of babies, children, parents, innocence, childhood, etc are real life losses… they leave a part of you empty for the long haul. 
– Be sensitive to people who have lost babies or been abused. PLEASE don’t tell them to “get over it” because it was “a long time ago.” 
The end… 
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2 thoughts on “the depths of despair…”

  1. i'm so sorry to hear that the day was so emotional. though i only know you both through the blog, i can't wrap my head around the feeling of being a "fake" father… you're both sound so patient and loving and adoring of your children. <3 <3

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