What a job you thought you could take on. Loving another man's children. Disciplining another man's children. Taking the backlash from another man's children. Being responsible for... another man's children. In the beginning you did it all. And you were good. You were loved by all three of us. You helped me put them to bed, or carry them in from the car. You helped build Lego's, you tinkered with tools in the garage, you asked for time with them. You were everything they had always wanted and everything they still deserve. In Ayden's words, "I trust him momma, when he says he will do things, he does them." And you did. You did with your whole heart and I don't doubt the love you have for them.
I saw you slipping away slowly, though. I saw the frustrations seeping in. I saw the fury behind a broken rule. I saw you slam the door and walk away. You walked away.
The thing is... you had it all wrong. It wasn't a job. It never was and it never will be. Not to them and not to me. This life, being a single momma, is not only mine... it's theirs. And they didn't choose it. They don't deserve it.
The worst part, is not that you made them feel like that. As you said to me often "it's not your job". The worst part is that I let them feel like they were just a job. I'm their mother, their person, the only one person they have in the world, and I let them feel insecure for too long.
So it surprises me when I hear you say you want to try again. See how we work out. Because you miss me and you love me. It's not that I don't miss you. I do. I miss you. Everyday I miss you. It's not even that I don't love you. I still do, and I always will. And believe me when I say I've wanted to hear those words for over a year. I've cried countless tears and I've analyzed over every last detail of our relationship.
I've asked myself over and over some of the hardest questions I've had to ask myself. What would have happened had our baby lived? What would have happened? I don't have the answers. And you don't either. I wonder though, what our lives would be like. I wonder. I hope. I think. I dream. I cry. I ache and I miss you. And then I stop. I have to stop.
Because what I dreamed of for me. What I had hoped for for me. And believe me, I had dreams for you and me. I'd be lying if I said I still didn't. But what I'm left with feeling is truth. And the truth is, babe, we didn't work. What you and I had wasn't what was best for the two lives I have been trusted to care for. It wasn't what they needed, therefore it's not what I needed.
So, I ask you. I beg of you... please let the wound I still feel for you everyday heal. Allow me to move on. Allow me to be a momma. A good momma to the men in my life who, no matter how many times I ground them or won't allow them to stay up fifteen minutes past their bedtime, will never choose to slam the door.
My love always and truly,
The Single Momma