I spent my mother’s day doing things I always do, it was just any other day to me. I woke up before my son, made sure he had breakfast ready. I started a load of laundry, I baked a blackberry pie. I did the things that my 1 year old will later on in life be able to celebrate with me on this day. But, then it hit me.
Depression. I spent the remainder of that day sitting in my room, watching tv. I completely shut down, and I avoided everyone. This is a special day for me, one where people show their appreciation for the mother I have become. My son brought me a beautiful necklace that says mom on it. Of course he threw a fit when I tried to take the jewelry, he’s too young to understand the meaning of giving a gift.
I woke up happy, but at nap time, I was barely able to handle the day. I waited all day for a text my heart knew would never come. A text from the man that helped me bring this child into the world. All I wanted from him was a simple “Happy Mother’s Day” text, but it never came. I’m sure he was too busy with his new girlfriend and her five year old daughter to even think of me.
But, this morning, a text came. One telling me that he didn’t text me because he assumed I would be angered by it. He assumed showing his gratitude toward the fact that I brought him a son into his life would offend me. Then he continued on to say that the whole reason he doesn’t speak to me is my fault. That our child will forget he exists because of me. It was a horrible feeling. I wanted appreciation from him, and instead I received blame.
Blame for HIS mistakes. Blame for things he doesn’t want to admit to. HE left me. HE told me that I should leave and move back to Arizona because he respected I knew what was best for our son. HE did these things. I didn’t want this, I wanted him. I wanted a family. Instead, I got heartbreak.
Instead, I spent two days in bed barely being able to deal with my life. Happy mother’s day to me, right?