The Child:
He will be four years old this July. He is not my child, but one who chose my partner of twelve years as father and a woman I despise as his mother. It was a difficult labour. It took 24hrs of indecision before he finally arrived into this world to continue a path that inflicted pain on all those around. Angelic to look at, one could almost be convinced that the exorbitant price paid for him was justifiable.
Who was called upon to sacrifice the most?
I thought initially it was I.
For I was not given a choice.
The mother was 5 months pregnant before anyone informed me. The news was finally broken to me two weeks before I was due to reunite with my true Love D ( the child’s father to be ) having been apart for 9 months.
And what of D…my ex…?
He was too weak to say No to her selfish desire to have this child. Apart from the motivation of producing something that could be considered a success; something he could look at and feel proud of, I think he naively gave in to the mother’s insistence that having this child would make him happy; happier than his years with me. He believed it when she told him he would make a great Father; that his Love for me was a co-dependent destructive force…she was offering him something beautiful …the answer to all his problems….
Four years have passed and his face depicts a hollow eyed picture of despair. I felt pity as I studied the photo he sent me recently. Was it his intention to have this effect ; to convey a message that his reaching out to me of late is akin to a skeletal hand begging to be pulled back into a life it once knew?
Could it be possible that his recent words where he said he never stopped Loving me and always will…..are true?
And does it even matter any more?
His eyes are dead.
And What of her, the mother:
She of course had to have this child. Her trophy, her hard earned prize for Years of wanting and manipulating.
She also wanted D, the whole package.
And as long as I was in the picture she wanted him more. as soon as I would exit, she would discard D….having plenty of excuses; his heroin and benzo addiction, considered minor flaws during the times she worked on him to be with her.
They are not together.
I don’t waste time wondering how or why.
All I know is I am perhaps the winner in all this.
But it is a hollow victory tainted by my concern for him.