What's in a Name?

With Primero, I think I’m over the mother thing now. For so long I had hoped he would spontaneously call me “mom” as his adoption date approached. I was so crushed and beyond hurt when it became apparent that he not only would not call me “mom” but he was defensive and adamant about that never being my name from him. (Click here to get the whole story) The issue became so heated that Primero didn’t think he wanted to be adopted because of it. Other than saying “it’s too weird” he never has really explained why the term “mom” can’t apply to both his biological mom and to me. On the flip side and as an off note, Chica Marie has no problem calling everyone mom, go figure. After the excruciating pain from last year’s mom war, I buried the topic never to let it surface again. To Primero I’m my first name, nothing more.

 

Sadly, the issue does not go away so easily. It bubbles back to the surface from time to time bringing the blistering pain along with it. Just a few weekends ago Primero shared a story with me regarding an exchange he had with his cousin, who happens to have my same first name. According to Primero’s story, there was some confusion about which person he was talking about until his cousin finally asked him why he didn’t call me mom. She went on to say more, including some not-so-nice things about Primero’s mom and the conversation ended with Primero changing the subject and feeling poorly about the whole exchange. I’m not sure what he hoped to get out of sharing the story with me, but mostly I just held my breath and listened. That same week Primero was home when Love Bug’s speech therapist came to visit and he called me by my first name in front of her. She was shocked by this and proceeded to reprimand him for not calling me mom. Primero explained it was because he was adopted and she said, “So?” and I wanted to crawl in a hole and hide.

 

Sometimes Love Bug, in an attempt to emulate Primero, calls me by my first name – or, well an approximation of it, since his pronunciation on most words is sort of like listening to someone speak with marbles in their mouth. This upsets me and I refuse to answer him when he does it. But, wait! There’s more! Every single solitary time we have a fight Primero pulls out the “you’re-not-my-mom” card because he knows it hurts me. The last time he did it I flat out told him, “you can keep saying things like that to hurt me, but I’m telling you right now it’s lost its impact so you’re going to have to try harder.” To a certain extent it’s true. The gut-wrenching, searing pain that cut me to the quick and brought stinging tears to my eyes  has subsided. Instead, I’m left with a heavy, grinding, heart-crushing, chronic ache in its place. Rather than clutching my heart in pain, I feel the blow deep in my soul.

 

Last night Primero walked home from his after school program because he left early and didn’t call me to pick him up. There was some drama related to his sister and her friend showing up at the facility which lead to Primero mouthing off to the director and leaving. As if this were not upsetting enough in its own right, Primero included in his story about how the director (who called me last week about a different issue with Primero) said to him, “you’re mother isn’t going to like this” and Primero responded with, “Who? You mean Ashley? She’s my adoptive mother.” He prefaced this part of the story by saying, “And you really aren’t going to like this part.” He’s not wrong, I don’t like that part but I feel there’s no point in getting worked up about it. I am resigned to my fate. The mom train has left the station and I am still standing on the platform. But, rather than trying to run the tracks to catch up or fall to my knees howling in pain, I just stand and watch it chug away. Maybe it’s because Primero doesn’t really know what a true mom is like, maybe it’s because he was older when he was adopted, maybe he’s just stubborn, maybe he doesn’t know how to truly love someone, maybe the title “mom” is too loaded and painful for him, maybe he has his bio mom foisted on a pedestal that no one can touch – I really don’t know. But, I’m not playing the hurt game anymore. I’m not going to fall to pieces because I love him like a son and he loves me like a benevolent neighbor. I can hope and pray that my love will help him to heal, but I have to come to the realization that for Primero I won’t ever truly be his mom, he will always include a qualifier. He thinks it should be enough that the babies call me mom and so I guess I have to content myself with that.

So, what’s in a name? Didn’t Shakespeare presume a rose by any other name would smell just as sweet? But, Shakespeare was wrong. Names are important. If names didn’t mean anything, then why do expectant parents spend hours poring over baby books to find just the right one for their precious baby? If names didn’t matter, why are studies done to which names fare better in college and on job applications? If names didn’t matter, then why aren’t we all John and Jane? Because names do matter. What we are called is a part of who we are, whether is shapes our character or our character shapes the name, the influence is still there. So, why is it so unfathomable that the moniker “mom” has so much meaning tied to it? I was raised to believe calling your parents by their first name was a sign of disrespect. As hard as it is for Primero to over-come his up-bringing, it’s just as hard for me. Calling me by my name instead of mom seems to diminish and devalue our relationship. This, above all, is why it bothers me.

Planning Meeting

And this is what is wrong with our health care system. I called the doctor’s office this morning because the case worker had to take her to last week’s annual visit since it could not be rescheduled in a timely manner and she confused me in regards to a follow up appointment. I asked what they were following up on and she said the testing they had done in the office, which was urine testing and a finger stick for lead and iron levels. In my experience these results are immediate and unless there was an abnormality no follow up would be needed. So, I could not fathom why this follow up appointment might be needed. I figured the doctor’s office would know this information and so I called. The note from the case worker indicated I would be contacted for a follow up appointment in October, six months from now. But, wait a minute! When I called last month to change last week’s appointment I was told they book 6 months out. This morning I was told the schedule isn’t open for October. This month is April, right? What month is 6 months from now? Any wonder why I hate this doctor’s office? So, the rude scheduler mocked the case worker for not knowing what the follow up appointment was regarding and then said there were no notes in the file regarding why a follow up appointment was needed. I asked her if the nurse might know. I was put on hold twice but I was finally given an answer by the nurse. The doctor wanted a follow up appointment because there was a lot going on in this case. Um, what? And, this doctor who met this child for the first time last week, is going to what exactly about all the mentioned issues? Chica Marie has a mobile therapist, a CHOR case worker, a county case worker, a soon-to-be TSS worker, and a foster mother. What could the doctor possibly add to the group, since none of the pressing issues are of a medical nature (the urine testing came back negative, so the bed-wetting isn’t a medical issue and her lead levels are within a normal range now, so it’s no longer an issue). I’m not going to make a stupid follow up appointment and waste my time. Why on earth should I? To me, this is just a waste of the public’s money, since she is covered by public insurance. What sheer stupidity!

 

The planning meeting last night was long and, as I suspected, not terribly informative for me. The only surprise was the request of the little ones mom to join via telephone but she didn’t answer when the case worker tried to call her. The case worker was at our house until almost 8 pm. I had sent the kiddos to Primero’s room because of the potential for issues with the mom being on the phone. At the end of the meeting Primero brought Love Bug upstairs because he had a poopy diaper. Primero then announced to me that Esperanza wanted to come over to see the kids. I contemplated this while changing Love Bug and felt the sheer exhaustion of the day and the planning meeting wash over me. I didn’t feel like dealing with a visit after all of that. I said to Primero it wasn’t a good time and besides, Esperanza couldn’t expect to see the children and act like I didn’t exist. It simply doesn’t work like that. He was irritated and went outside because apparently they had already arrived. As I was walking the case worker to the door, Primero came back inside and said that Esperanza wanted to say Hi and give me a hug. So, we all trouped outside to meet with Esperanza and her friend on the front porch. The awkward exchange was brief and soon I was ushering the children back inside to get them ready for bed. Esperanza later text me asking for a time to get together to talk and we settled on a Friday evening as yet to be determined. I don’t know what to expect from this meeting and the unknown makes me nervous. I did indicate I would not want Primero to be there because he has spent enough time as the go-between. I made no mention of this to Primero, although I am sure he is aware.

 

My least favorite day of the year is looming on the horizon. My sister told me she won’t be home for Mother’s Day this year because her bridal shower is the weekend after and she didn’t want to come home two weekends in a row, which I understand. I asked Primero about getting something for his girlfriend for Mother’s Day (which is just a few days after her daughter turns 1) and his mom. He said getting something for his girlfriend would be weird but he wants to get something for his mom. This will be on our agenda this weekend. I hate Mother’s Day and I’m not looking forward to it. I would like to just sleep through it so I can pretend the day never happened. I want to not be so negative about it, but thus far I have found myself incapable. Still, I’m keeping my fingers crossed.

Mini Time Capsule

Yesterday I wrote about a lot of stuff. It was just the stuff cluttering my mind and life lately and it felt good to just let it out. My life is complicated, but who doesn’t have a complicated life?

 

Last night I didn’t quite get all my chores completed, but I did manage to move my sweaters to the storage bins in my closet and bring out my summer clothes. As I was making the swap, some of the clothing I was rediscovering brought back memories from when I wore it last. The coral colored one shoulder shirt that might be too young for me these days, reminds me of the Ariana Grande concert where it was storming and Primero and Esperanza and I embraced our drenched condition and decided to sing and dance in the rain. As I tucked away the winter sweaters, my fluffy purple sweater reminded me of Christmas, when the house was full of kids and cheer. I thought of how this seasonal exchange was like a mini time capsule, storing memories of the past season and reintroducing memories of the year before. I wondered who I would be when I re-opened these containers to find warm sweaters for the cold season. And I remembered the hopes I had had when I exchanged my sleeveless tops for my fuzzy fleeces. Some of the memories made me sad, thinking about how different things were when fall befell us. But, I try not to dwell in remnants of what could have been. There is plenty of things I have to worry about in the present.

 

This morning I was harassed by my sister’s fiancé regarding the bridal shower invitations. Good Lord! Listen, I wish I had had them out last week, but it was a rough week and it didn’t happen. The good news is the darn things are in the mail now! Sheesh! I was sent a short response regarding the invitations and tried to not be irritated by the whole thing. I’m sure his mother put him up to asking me about it and her intrusion is now working on my last nerve. She has wanted to run this show from the get go and while I was initially enthused to have the help I now feel like she is stepping on toes and I’m ready for the whole thing to be over and done. Fortunately, after this irritant I discovered that Mr.J’s girlfriend has heeded my gentle prodding about GED classes in the young adult program where I work and she joined the class. I cannot tell you how much this boosted my spirits! Finally! Someone has heard what I said and my words did not fall on deaf ears! I am so proud of her for taking this step because things can only go up from here. The young adult program will not only help her get her GED but it will also help her with post-secondary education and/or job placement. I had told Mr. J and his girlfriend about this program months ago and had given up hope she would actually start the classes, so it was extra-sweet to see her this morning after dealing with more wedding drama.

 

Tonight there is a planning meeting scheduled for the little ones. The county case worker will not be there, she already sent an email. She did offer one piece of information and that was the date for TPR. It is set two weeks before Love Bug’s second birthday in June. So, roughly two weeks after we have court next month for a permanency hearing, there will be a TPR hearing. The email said the neither CHOR case worker nor the three of us have to attend the TPR hearing. I’m glad we won’t have to be there because I’m sure it will be an emotional event. If this case follows like Primero’s case did, adoption will be roughly 9 months after TPR, so sometime in March of next year. I’m hoping this case will move faster, but I certainly won’t hold my breath

Asking Why

I have never felt compelled to join other bloggers in writing about infertility to acknowledge National Infertility Awareness Week #NIAW. The theme this year is #StartAsking and for some reason, that resonated with me. Well, to be exact, it terrified me. I have spent the past 6 ½ years hoping no one would ask me. Hoping no one would ask me when I was having a baby or why I didn’t have a baby. Hoping no one would ask me why we didn’t try a particular technique or doctor. Hoping no one would ask me why I felt like I was dying inside because my body didn’t work like a proper woman’s body. Hoping no one would ask me why we stopped pursuing a biological child and started classes to adopt. Infertility, to me, was a dark and scary secret. I didn’t breathe a word to anyone about our difficulties until we were half way through our second year of trying to conceive. Prior to then I would grin and bear any questions regarding procreation and then sob in private afterwards. The pain of infertility pushed me away from others, it held me hostage in a dark world of lost hope and broken dreams. Infertility invaded every aspect of my life and sucked out all the color and joy in my world until I was a mere shell of my former self. Infertility gutted me to the very morrow of my bones as cycle after cycle repeated the same highs of hope and lows of reality. We pursued infertility treatments and were all but promised a healthy infant, for a price. A price too steep and so our journey to a biological child came to a heart wrenching end. My insurance did not cover any infertility treatments. The only way I could get the initial work-up covered was because it was billed not as infertility, but as a medical problem due to my fluctuating cycles. Even my insurance company wanted to hide my infertility. Eventually, I lost everything as my marriage could not withstand infertility and adoption and I was left in the loneliest and darkest emotional place I have ever been. Those months are a blur, something my mind has blocked out to protect me from the insurmountable pain. Infertility had taken everything from me and I felt I had nothing left to give.

 

Over the years I have asked why more times than I care to count. Why God why? Why me? Why can’t I have a baby? Why didn’t this treatment work? Why can’t this cycle be the one? Why must I endure these invasive procedures to do something my body is supposed to do all on its own? Why must I have PCOS? Why? All of these questions drove me to an ugly place, an emotional pit where there was nothing but the pain of infertility. I fought my way out and I now am a mother to my teenage son who I adopted from the foster care system. I’m a mother-to-be for the two little children who are currently placed with me as a foster placement. I was incredibly lucky to have the baby placed with me at three days old and I have so enjoyed caring for him as he grows. But, as I didn’t realize, adoption is not a cure for infertility. I am still infertile and I still struggle with the ramifications of having PCOS. So, now, instead of asking why me, I want to ask different questions.

 

• Why are infertility treatments not covered by insurance?
• Why is infertility still taboo?
• Why are there no run/walk/golf for the cure campaigns for infertility research?
• Why is infertility not discussed in sex ed classes?
• Why are 1 in 8 couples struggling with infertility and yet it still isn’t seen in the mainstream media?

 

I don’t have answers to these questions any more than I had answers to my initial set of questions. My hope is that Resolve will have a positive impact to help educate non-sufferers about the complexities of infertility and to remove the stigma that pushes so many to hide their struggles. For more information about this campaign, please visit the Resolve.org website

Life as I Know It

This weekend was another busy one. And, rather than feeling ready to greet the new work week, I’m just beat, totally exhausted. I’d like nothing more than to crawl into bed and sleep for several days in a row. I feel like I am constantly pulled in 15 different directions and while I try to shift from issue to issue, I feel totally ineffective in completing any tasks. This is my week and the things churning around me as I know them:

 

Love Bug’s speech therapist is coming to visit tonight. She wasn’t out last week because she got sick, which was actually advantageous for me because her visit was planned for one of the evenings I would be coming back from my far away training and we would not have been home when she got there. I had forgotten to text her and let her know our schedule had changed. After the speech therapist leaves and we have dinner, we need to go grocery shopping before picking up Primero. And I really need to clean the bathroom! My hope is to accomplish all of this by 9 pm so I can sit down and watch Dancing with the Stars.

 

I did a lot of laundry yesterday and I folded all of it last night. I just need to put it away, which is always my least favorite thing to do. I changed my winter shoes for my summer shoes yesterday, but I need to change my clothing over because it just looks silly to wear sweaters with sandals. I was also helping my mom do the same thing, which meant a lot of running up and down the stairs at her house as I tried to discern which skirts she wanted to send to the attic and which ones she wanted to keep in her closet. I had to use Primero’s go-go-gadget arms to reach these things, since I’m shorter than my mom and have the reach of an un-athletic T-Rex. He was on the phone and not pleased to act as my reacher-of-things. I tried to understand where my mom wanted her clothing stored, but it seems my dad’s organizational habits require the directional skills of an inebriated squirrel and so I could barely find the things she requested. My goal is to complete this herculean task when I’m up at their place again on Sunday, but there is also the task of washing and replacing the screens to all 954 windows in their house (I swear my mom is the only person on the face of this planet who takes the screens out of her windows for winter and replaces them in the Spring – it’s insanity!). Did I mention I should really dust upstairs? I’ve contacted a landscaper about handling her outside because really, I cannot weed all her flower beds whilst doing all the other above mentioned things. I am only one human being after all.

 

Tuesday evening we are having another planning meeting with our new case worker and Chica Marie’s mobile therapist. I hate these futile meetings, mostly because the biggest information giver never attends so it’s just the rest of us asking questions no one present knows the answers to. After the last planning meeting I emailed my questions to the county case worker and her answers left me more confused than informed. Fortunately, I was able to speak to her in-person a few weeks later and got answers, but I would still be going mad now if I hadn’t had that opportunity. And, because our case worker seems to be changing every quarter, I find I’m re-telling the same things over and over again simply for contextual understanding to current and on-going issues. That doesn’t get old, by the way. Not in the slightest.

 

I’m trying to understand how having a crush on someone is not hurtful to the one you are dating. According to Primero, this is no big deal, but in my (adult/mature) eyes, this seems to be a very slippery slope. It’s very hard parenting a child who has had years of different morals instilled in them. I feel like I am always walking a tight rope between what my moral codes are and what I feel is the right thing to do and what beliefs Primero may hold that differ from mine. I’ve had chats with Primero about being loyal to a relationship and how much it hurt him when his girlfriend did things with her ex. On Saturday, as we were out running errands, we tried to stop in and see Hermano at work. Unfortunately, he had to start work before we got there and while we did stay and eat, he didn’t get a chance to visit with us. Primero gave me some sad information concerning Hermano, which I’m focusing on letting go. We’ll have to arrange another time to see him since it’s been months since we last saw him. I think it is this week that he will be finding out the gender of the baby, although he indicated he might not be sharing that right away. When I last spoke to him, I asked if his girlfriend would be having a baby shower and he said he wasn’t sure. I would like to contribute, even if they would rather we not attend. I can always send a gift card. Primero got emotional when we remembered talking about planning a surprise graduation party for Esperanza many, many moons ago. I had suggested he mention the idea to his aunt and uncle, but he declined and so we let the topic drop. It’s sad to think of what could have been.

 

A friend of mine told me over the weekend that her oldest daughter is expecting her first child in November. Her daughter will soon be 19 and my friend is not fond of the boyfriend. She is devastated that her daughter is having a child so young because she did the same thing and she struggled for years. I cannot understand having a baby as a teenager, even when you are legally and adult. There is so much life to be lived before settling down! I was anxious about going off to college and finding a career path. A baby was not on my radar in the slightest. Don’t get me wrong, I love being there for my three, but it takes a lot out of you. And while I enjoy it, I don’t know if I would if I hadn’t had some life experiences before pursuing motherhood.

 

I have once again delved into the world of online dating. It takes so much time to keep on top of it! I feel utterly bombarded with messages and I scarcely have the time to weed out the weirdos and not-gonna-happens. Still, I am tired of being lonely and the only way that will change is if I focus on finding someone and so there it is. It would be so much simpler if my perfect partner could just identify himself immediately and save me the time of having to actually meet the men I’m talking to, but sadly that’s the way things go. It floors me how I prominently display the fact that I have children and yet some men think I can be ready to go on a date at the drop of a hat – um? Am I supposed to just throw some newspaper on the floor and hope for the best? Ideally, Primero could stay home with the little ones and I would trust him to do so, but the foster care rule about being 21 still applies even if other rules have softened. So, that means planning ahead. Why does this bother some men so much? But, it is also a good tool to assess those who are truly interested in dating and those who just want desert – if they can’t be patient enough to schedule something, they are off my potentials list. If they are too demanding of my time they also quickly drop in favor. Maybe it’s a bad way of looking at things, but it’s just how I operate.

 

I spent most of yesterday cleaning. Saturday we were running errands, like taking the cat to the groomers, looking at pavers for the backyard sidewalk project I’ve been “working on” for nearly 4 years now, and searching for the perfect burlap ribbon. I’m making the bows for the isle for my sister’s wedding and I had to make about 400 bows to send her pictures and allow her to pick the one she liked best. Then, I had to return to the store and buy more of the ribbon she chose. I also wrote up the bridal shower invitations and need to get them mailed today. The rest of the bridal party wanted the invitations to be sent out weeks ago (the shower is on May 14^th) so they’ve been on me to get it done. After I did 4 loads of laundry and washed two sinks full of dishes, I moved my winter shoes out of the closet and put my summer shoes in their place. But that time it was time to go up to the farm and start cleaning my parent’s place. I cleaned the bathrooms, vacuumed upstairs and down the steps. My mom admitted to being depressed about being stuck in her seat, but things took a turn for the worst when she asked me about my sister’s wedding dress. The wedding dress saga in Reader’s Digest terms: my sister chose a wedding dress last year after many grueling shopping trips in which she bickered with my mom and there were hurt feelings all around. The dress she chose was beautiful but she wanted to modify it rather drastically. The back was all lace and she wanted it removed. One dress shop said she couldn’t do it, another promised their seamstress could deliver and well, the short of it is they couldn’t. The dress just did not fit her figure once tailored and she was so upset she ended up hating the dress. She loathed it so much, she decided to sell it and start from scratch. Only, now the clock is ticking. She lives in DC we live in PA, so distance, time and her schedule made coming home to dress shop hard to do. My mom has been asking about the dress but my sister only confided in me on Saturday the true fate of the dress. And that she found a new dress with the help of her friend who also happens to be the officiant for the wedding. My mom asked me yesterday if I knew what had become of the dress and so I told her what I knew. And my mom lost it. She sobbed most of the time I was there because she was so hurt that my sister went wedding dress shopping and found her wedding dress without her. My mom was angry at me for telling her about it and then angry at my sister for being too gutless to tell her herself. My mom has sworn she isn’t going to the bridal shower and is threatening to not go to the wedding. I’ve been trying to stay out of the it, to keep above the fray, but alas I find myself squarely in the middle. The bad thing is, my mom can really hold a grudge and it seems she is going there with my sister. I’m trying to find what fun is left in this wedding endeavor and make the most of it, but I gotta tell ya, it ain’t easy!

 

I was thinking about having a second birthday party for Love Bug, but his birthday is less than a week before the wedding and so I will probably be too overwhelmed to plan much less execute an actual party. Maybe I’ll just invite some people over to our place for cake and ice cream. It would be nice if his grandmother and Mini Momma could be there. And, this would mean doing something with the backyard, since that’s where I envision this non-party birthday get-together happening. Of course, this also opens up the dilemma about who to invite versus not invite because space would be limited. Maybe I should look into a park? This is getting into party territory….

 

Mother’s Day is looming on the horizon. I despise Mother’s Day and this year my own mother has taken a decidedly negative stance on the holiday as well, although for different reasons. Primero’s girlfriend’s baby will be a year old just before Mother’s Day and Primero has already mentioned she is having a party. As of now, Primero won’t be going because the baby’s father will be there and the girlfriend and her family don’t want any issues arising. You know, all that baby mama drama. Yuck! I’m glad that Primero won’t be going although I suspect he will spring a surprise invitation on me and expect to go anyway. This is his M.O. I still remember all the angst over this girl and her baby last year and how it has really only dulled slightly. I’ve just learned to keep my mouth shut about it because it’s not something Primero and I will ever see eye-to-eye on. Their faux relationship is harmless so long as Primero doesn’t become the next baby daddy. I have to ask Primero if he wants to get his girlfriend and his mom something for Mother’s Day because we will have to do that this weekend.

 

Interspersed among all the above things swirling through my head is the more mundane things like what to eat for dinner and if the kids need their hair washed tonight or not (luckily, not because I washed it last night). I feel bad for the cat who went to the groomers on Saturday because she lost all her hair, it was so matted that was the only option. Now the other cat is pesting her and they are fighting incessantly. The smaller dog has been acting weird the past few days and she spontaneously ran out of the house and jumped into the van yesterday when we were getting loaded up to go to the farm. I joked it was because she got into a fight with the non-shaved cat and has a cut on her ear. Before we could convince the small dog to get back in the house, the bigger dog (who just turned 11 on Saturday) dashed out into the van as well so we decided to just take them along. I have to find the paperwork for Chica Marie to have an EKG done on Thursday and I also need to find the paperwork for her daycare to fill out to see if her medication is helping her behaviors. I sure could use a vacation!  

Stay Reprised

It has been a long week and I’m exhausted. Last month I have started a year-long professional development class that requires I drive to the capital two days per month. On those days my hectic 15 minute commute (well, it’s actually longer than that because I have to drop Primero off at school and then take the little ones to daycare before arriving at work) is stretched into a 90 minute marathon. I have to wake up extra early and get us all out the door by 6:30 am in order to reach my training destination with enough time to speed walk from the cheaper parking lot to the building where the class is held. At the end of the day I have to battle hordes of traffic to get back to pick the little ones up from daycare and then find them something for dinner before collapsing on the couch. I am enjoying the classes but not the added stress of the long-distance commute. I never asked, but it could be possible to stay over, but that would mean finding a place for the children to go while I’m away and that seems like even more of a hassle. Regardless, this class and the travel, makes for a stressful week.

 

Tuesday night, when I took the little ones to pick up Primero at the CFA, Esperanza crawled into the van to hug us all, much to my surprise. I wasn’t really paying attention when Primero walked up to the van, I just noticed him out of the corner of my eye and unlocked the doors. I looked up when I heard him opening the back door near Chica Marie and that is when I saw Esperanza getting into the van. Because I have a wild imagination, I thought someone was chasing her at first. But, she was too calm. She didn’t say a word to me, just wrapped my head and shoulders in a hug and hopped back out of the van to chat with Primero who was trying to get Love Bug to say, “buddy” because he says it so cutely. Esperanza gave us a second round of hugs before Primero climbed into the front passenger seat and we drove off. I commented to Primero, “that was strange” as we pulled away and he ignored my comment to tell me his news of the day.

 

I don’t know what to make of this sequence of events. Just the day before Esperanza had called me regarding a transportation request for school and I was too scared to answer. Not scared, hesitant? Nervous? Cautious? Stubborn? I did text a response and called the school as requested, but I just couldn’t bring myself to answer the phone. I don’t really know what to say and, to be honest, I don’t really know how to pretend like nothing happened. I’m not angry and the pain of what happened only hurts when I think about what we had, but I just don’t know how to be. I guess it is believed I should be “over it” and just let the past stay in the past, but that’s like ignoring a festering wound and hoping it will just go away on its own. My family was thrown into utter chaos, my relationship with my son was threatened, I was threatened personally and a lot of very ugly things were said. How do I forgive that without an apology or any acknowledgement of the actions that created this mess? I want to forgive and I wish I could forget it all, but I also want to protect the children and my heart. I’m fearful of doing something to upset the balance, to cause a similar pain to be rained upon us because I cannot waiver on my standards. I don’t understand any of this. And I have no idea how to proceed. Maybe I’m being overly cautious, I don’t know. I miss how things were when we were together more.  I know time heals all wounds but time does not have the same cathartic effect on trust. I’ve heard trust being described as a piece of paper – once it is crinkled it can be smoothed out but it won’t ever be the same. I’m not so doom and gloom, but trust is a very tricky thing; it's very hard to get it back once it’s gone. At this point, I’m just letting the ball sit quietly in Esperanza’s court. I am here, as I have always been and none of the promises I made were ever rescinded. Her life has completely changed, but my life, our lives, are very much the same. And, as undesirable as that may be, that lends to a certain stability I find comforting. In the last 10 years or so, my world has been rocked by some pretty damaging things. Yet, I somehow manage to keep rising, to stand tall, and to soldier on. I guess that’s just life. And, oddly enough, this brings to mind my word of the year – STAY. Storms of change and upheaval swirl around me but I STAY.    

Telephone

Yesterday afternoon at work I went to the bathroom and when I got back to my desk my phone was blowing up with phone calls, texts, and a voicemail. This is not my typical Monday afternoon! I first listened to the voicemail and understood what all the hoopla was about – I needed to call Esperanza’s school and give permission for her to leave school with a friend who was driving her to work. Ok. I called and spoke to the Vice Principal, gave my permission and thought the whole thing was over. A moment after I hang up, I see Esperanza was calling me, but I choose not to answer. I figure she hadn’t gotten the news that I made the call, so I text her to let her know I did call and give permission. Of all the ludicrous things! I guess it’s just a school cya, but asking my permission for anything for Esperanza is sort of an oxymoron – my permission, my anything is not needed. We haven’t spoken in months. The only time I hear from her is when I need to communicate some insipid permission to the school. Primero indicated she had tried to text me a few weeks ago, but I never received a text. And I’m not going to resume communicating through Primero, it was one of the greatest mistakes I made with Esperanza. She is her own person capable of having a conversation with me if and when she so chooses. I won’t let Primero be the go-between anymore because it isn’t fair to him, for one, and because then words and meanings get colored by his perception which has caused friction in the past. I am open to conversing without Primero interfering. I’m sure he will find that difficult, because he seems to want to be involved in every detail regarding his family – perhaps some left-over hyper vigilance from his past life, I don’t know. I have stayed the course, as far as I am concerned. I have never rescinded any of my offers or promises and the only thing I asked for in return was respect. Primero seems to think any action I take, any offer to help, will be viewed as me trying to win back affection or work out an apology. There is only one thing I felt needed an apology from me and that was covered in the beginning before things got really bad. I don’t need to give an apology, I need to receive one. And unless or until that happens, I don’t anticipate answering my phone, rather I will keep communication to texting where anything I say can be seen and saved and not misconstrued into something hurtful to use against me. I suppose I have some trust issues in this area but I tend to try to play it safe when I am hurt so deeply. I have turned away from the mess and the ugliness of what happened and I’m concentrating on the children living under my roof, including Primero. And I can only hope that someday things will be better.