Sorted

So many thoughts scattered and searching for where they belong. I'm unsure how to file each into it's proper place.

The baby's name is Jace Rocco [The Mothers Last Name]. As far as we can tell he is healthy. I have a few precious pictures of him but don't foresee getting anymore. I'm mostly okay with that, but I did have to take the blurry ultrasound pictures off of the refrigerator because the daily reminder was just too much. Chances are good that he is Chris' son but with no medical or genetic proof, we wait. How long? I don't know. It could be 18 years or maybe he'll never look for the man that was hidden from him. You don't know what you're missing if you never had it...

Nick got a car. A 2003 BMW 3 something, something. It's black, a little worn but he loves it. He also got a job which was a prerequisite for a car and payments on the car will begin shortly.  He likes the independence. It scares the hell out of me!

My best friend who I've worked five feet from for the last 3-ish years was offered another job with hours that she couldn't pass up. I don't know what to do with this yet. If I think too long about it, tears well and threaten to spill down my cheeks. This will inevitably turn into a very ugly cry so I'm choosing not to dwell on it just yet. 

Chris and his girlfriend have been together almost a year. They have big life changes coming up that I'm super excited but tentatively nervous about. She is so sweet and so good for him. Also, our family loves her! Just remember to have patience sweet girl, he needs some work but I did my best.

We're in the process, though not on the fast track to getting our house ready to sell. We need to downsize but I hate moving.  Also, we've lived in this house for 11 plus years. Do you know how many boxes of stuff we're going to have to move? Right now some random, unused items are packed and stacked (or spread around, depending on how you look at it) in our garage.

A couple of quirky things are nestled away too but those will play out as life does.

Everyday

Let's call him Oakley Alexander. 

That was the name that Chris and the baby's mother chose for him when she promised to never take him from our lives. I'm guessing she chose another name when she decided to break that promise and decided not to allow him to have any voluntary relationship with our family. But until a judge and some law (that we are yet to have on our side) make her give Chris his son to hold and introduce him by the name that she's given him I'll just call him Oakley.

I wasn't a fan of the name at first. Now, I'd give just about anything if that was his name because Chris chose it. It's original and memorable just like my son's baby will be.

She changed her phone number and has only given us an email to contact her. We don't know if she lives in the same place that she did when Chris dated her but we'll be sending any court papers to that address because THE COURT WILL BE INVOLVED.

Lawyers are expensive and I've researched IN. GREAT. DETAIL. the rights of a unmarried, biological father. I can only hope that what an attorney goes to school for, for many years I'm able to replicate in some form when he completes the forms and takes them to the clerk of court in our county.

I've sent her emails everyday since Oakley was born. Asking if he's healthy. Is he sleeping well? Does he look like Chris? Not to harass her but to know who my grandson is. She hasn't replied to any of them but I'll continue to send them anyway.

I refuse to mourn a child who is alive! He may not have the name Chris chose and he may bond with our family several months from now (from what I've read, the court takes a looooong time) but someday he will know how much he's loved.

Until we meet sweet boy, I love you to the moon and back!

Baby Boy

Dearest Sweet Baby Boy,

You were born just shy of 34 hours ago. You didn't know it, of course, but when you took that first breath my heart filled with such love. No, that's not true. I loved you before you were sent from heaven to be my first grandson. I've waited my entire life to be your Gramma!

For reasons and circumstances that none of our family understand we weren't permitted to be there to witness your grand entry. The tears that dripped down my cheeks just to know you were here, on Earth so close to us but still so far away pale in comparison to the emotions that your daddy tried valiantly to hold inside. I saw the tears that slid quietly from his eyes as he wiped at them trying unsuccessfully to hide his sadness at not watching you search his face for the comfort that only a daddy can provide.

How much to you weigh? Are you tiny like your father was? He was a little bundle of 5 pounds, 6 ounces but long at 21 inches. Do you have his brown eyes and downy hair that was barely visible?  I doubt that your mother gave you the name that was chosen all those months ago when we found out you were due in January. Your middle name was to be Alexander after your Great Grandfather David Alexander Pittman. You won't remember as you get older but I'm certain that he held you in heaven before you were delivered to our world. Did he whisper how lucky you'd be that GiGi would be your Great Grandma and that our family is a little overwhelming at times? Or did he just tell you to fish when you get older, because fishing was something he would have taught you while you were probably too small to learn?

Someday sweet angel we will meet and you will be part of our crazy, loving family. Your daddy can't wait to hold you and assure you that you will always be safe with him. We'll wait as long as we have to BUT never doubt that the places in our entire families hearts has a baby boy shaped space that you will fill perfectly.....someday.

I love you to the moon and back,

Gramma

Angry

I've been trying to bury this debilitating feeling for months now.

This is the eve of the due date for the baby boy that will share my history, my very DNA. The baby that I may never know is even born.

It's, for lack of a more descriptive word, anger.

Anger that I'm allowing myself to find less joy in the baby girl that my nephews beautiful wife will have in a couple of weeks. An event that will probably always remind me of the potential birthday of my oldest child's son. A son who deserves to call Chris daddy and know how very much he is loved by an invisible family.

Anger and sadness that overshadows the magical and nearly miraculous pregnancy of my precious niece. A niece who is my heart, the daughter I couldn't give birth to. The sweetest mommy-to-be who I am over the moon happy for but who reminds me that I'm just an aunt not a gramma.

I'm angry at the women who is keeping me from fully participating is all of these wonderful events because of a selfishness that I will never understand. I want so badly for my heart to be as full as it should be.

Loving my great nieces will be easy (I already do)!

I'm searching desperately for the faith that I'll be able to replacing this deep, soul crushing pain and anger with something much more healthy.

In the mean time I'll smile through the tears and celebrate each moment that they allow me to share. Because each moment will be a gift that I can't repay.

Will He Know ?

What if I spend the rest of my life looking in the eyes of every young boy I estimate to be born in January 2015 to see if he has my eye color or that of my son?

This isn't how I expected it would be. I was cautiously excited when I learned she was pregnant. I knew the circumstances weren't ideal, yet MY SON was having a baby. A child that shared my genes, possibly my hair color, maybe a tiny part of me. We learned the baby was a boy and they chose a name. Then she decided "yes, a baby was good by not with him".

I foolishly began to buy clothes and allowed my heart to get more and more attached. I know the statistics are against me ever having a relationship with a child that is being carried by a woman who is no longer involved with my son EXCEPT as often as I explain that to my heart I find myself wandering to the baby section of every store I'm in. I carry the itty bitty sleepers around for a few minutes before reality quickly reminds me he'll likely never wear them and I quietly put them back on the rack.

Everyday my heart shatters into millions of pieces and everyday I glue it back together with tears and pretend she isn't carrying a new tiny shard of it in her belly until he is born in January and I begin to watch for the face of the sweet boy that I will instinctively know belongs to me.

The Thing About Kids

I was the tender age of 23 when I found out I was pregnant with my first baby. I was beyond excited then I was nervous, then I was scared to death. How could I possibly be responsible for another human? I could barely take care of myself.  But as my belly grew so did my confidence that we were going to be alright, my little family. There were hurdles, some small some big.

Labor was a blur and I was cuddling this tiny, squirming infant that I was head over heels in love with. I could do this! Beware of the terrible two's people warned me. They weren't so bad. I won't say we sailed into childhood but we slid in with few bumps and bruises and a few broken bones.

At 29, when Chris was 6, Nick was born I figured this parenthood thing wasn't so hard. What I have learned is that babies are easy!

You know what's hard?

Watching your 17 year old son's heart break because  his girlfriend's parents won't allow her to see him.

Or wanting to shout from the roof tops the news your 23 year old just shared with you but knowing you can't because maybe not everyone will be as excited.

Wanting so much to keep them from hurting but knowing you can't, that's the hardest part of being a parent.

Bumps, bruises and broken bones of childhood, those are the easy parts. You just don't realize it at the time.

Let's Not Do That Again

I spent the last four or so months of last year wondering if I was dying of some awful disease. Not the hypochondriac kind, like some terrible Google disease that nobody has ever heard of but a REAL maybe begins with a "C" disease. I had convinced myself that some organ inside me was plotting my untimely demise.

I had mammograms. Ultrasounds. Girly exams. Even my gallbladder removed, which I don't recommend. It's not nearly as anti-traumatic as Grey's Anatomy portrays. The ultrasound showed a gallstone in there that magically disappeared between the ultrasound and the pathologists petri dish. I'm convincing myself that it fell out of the dish and got kicked  under the table in the pathologists office rather than believe that its still rolling around my tummy like a pinball.

I am apparently the worse surgery patient on the planet. What should have been a simple laproscopic surgery with a 3 day recovery turned into a 2 week, use ALL.YOUR.VACATION.DAYS. five month later still not 100% ordeal.  In addition, lets throw in a scope down my throat to see if said gallstone might be hanging out with some friends somewhere in there. The only good thing during all of this was a couple of REALLY nice naps complements of Propofol and a really nice anesthesiologist. I recommend using one of those so things don't go really bad like with Michael Jackson.

Now minus one gallbladder and about 30 pounds I'm feeling almost normal so I'm fairly sure I don't have any life threatening diseases.

My New Years resolution is to see a lot less doctors and unlike most people I'm hoping to put on about 10 pounds.