Posts Tagged ‘Father’s Day’

Happy Father’s Day to all the people who step up to the plate and make a difference in every child’s life they touch & try for.

I haven’t posted in for awhile. I’ve been busy working on myself, school, of course my kiddos, and my relationship. I’ve been focused on recovery and coping through the ups and downs of my mental illnesses. I’ve also been hit with a lot of death lately.

All that being said, I am posting to get through the moment of severe roughness today. I buried a friend (loss) a few weeks ago who was a good father to his children. I am spreading the ashes of an old school mate (7th) grade on Saturday coming up. It’s hard. It hurts. It’s life.

Today is another day that many people celebrate their dad’s. Father’s. Stepdads. Father figures. I however, don’t have one of those. Whoever he is that helped create me with my birth mother, I don’t know him. It’s like this gaping hole in my soul unable to be filled except when I push it away remembering God is my Father. He is what made me possible. I don’t have memories to look back on, hugs, kisses, advice and tender or even harsh moments to look back on. No man to thank for making me the person I am today. I’m rambling I’m sure. It’s so difficult to put into words, the pain my soul feels for lack of all those things I just mentioned as well as feeling this odd sorrow that I can’t even look back on a memory of spankings. Being fussed at, scolded, or told he is dissapointed in me.

My birth mother refuses to tell me the truth. If she knows or doesn’t know who he is. When I was born, no one knew she was pregnant. No one knew because she was an addict. Abused alcohol and drugs. Was very overweight & I ended up being delivered at home in the bathroom by my Grandfather. The ambulance was called to come help after he delivered me and I was taken to the nearest hospital, placed in the NICU, went through DT’s for several days. My birth mother only came to see me once the entire 2 weeks I was there. No one knew how premature I was. No one knew what was going to happen & NO ONE but her knows if the man that helped make me knows if I even exist.

Working through the pain. Working through the confusion, wave of emotions that flow up and down back and forth on this day has become easier over the years. Yet, it is still there. I want to have a Dad. I want to know who he is. I want to know if he knows I’m here. Wondering about him. Does he have the same hair, eyes, character, features, health issues I have? Do I have siblings? Would I have the other side of me as a family that I’ve always lacked with my birth mother’s side of the family. We have always been astranged or on and off throughout my entire life. A very lonely monster lurking around the corner having to be bottled up, shoved back into it’s box, refocusing every moment on the positives being grateful for what I do have.

Does he have other grandchildren? Is he an ass or a good man. My kids’ dads are difficult and inconsistant. But they get all the right in the world to do whatever they want whenever however. Atleast for their sake, regardless of what I think of them as men, the kids have an opportunity to make up their own minds about who their dad is. Their dad gets the choice to be a part of them or not. I have never even had that choice. It sucks to say the least.

Maybe one day. One day, God will bring that moment around for me to know who the other half of me is. Introduce my children to their Grandfather. The other part of their heritage. Maybe one day I can look a man in the face and say, “Dad”.

Until then, I will be fulfilled with what and who I DO have in our lives thanking the Lord for blessing me with the opportunity to live and grow. Thanking Him for my boyfriend, whom I watch fight the hard fight to be a part of his beautiful daughter’s life. Striving to be a better man day after day, wanting nothing more than her to KNOW he is consistant with his Love as her Daddy, never giving up. That is exactly what I want for my babies and one day for myself from the other half who created me.

personn i