Luna turned 5 years old recently, and I can hardly believe it. And Matt is 9 now. I began to be a mother to him when he was only 2, so I’ve been on this journey of motherhood for 7 years now.
Seven whirlwind years of bursting joy, the deepest pain, excitement, sadness, boundless love, frustration, pride beyond measure, tears of all kinds, and the push pull of certainty that I’m doing what’s best for them and self-doubt. Seven years of pulling myself up by my bootstraps, pushing myself to get out of bed for them, and taking each next step I need to so that I can give them a better life.
This year, I asked Kristine if she would let me send Matt a birthday and Christmas gift, a letter from Luna and me. She said no, still doesn’t want to have contact.
He’s growing up without us.
The holidays are always hard when you’ve lost someone. And we’ve lost him.
It’s actually really difficult for me to talk about and to deal with. Luna and I talk about it whenever she wants to, of course, and whenever my family asks after him, I tell him as much as I know (which is very little). I think of him and miss him everyday. He is my son, the one who made me a mother, and we were both an active part of each other’s lives for 6 years. Kristine and her mother both tell me that he asks after Luna and me, but she refuses to let him have contact with us.
It utterly breaks my heart.
He needs his family, all of it. I know he can’t have Donna in his life. But that doesn’t mean he needs to lose Luna and me at the same time.
She didn’t need to do this.
She is causing us all pain because of her fear. (I explain this in my post, Donna.)
But I guess that’s what fear does. It makes people cruel, and they don’t even realize it.
But what helps me when I feel sad, especially around special days like birthdays and holidays, is to remember the times when we did have the privilege of spending time with him. The Count of Monte Cristo said that without sadness, he could not experience happiness. The reverse is also true.
I am sad now because of the joy I experienced before. And I am grateful to have had those happy times. I hope one day to create more happy memories with both of my children.
I go through his memory box pretty often. It has so many memories. His tiny boots, his crafts, some of his baby toys, favorite clothes, handprints and footprints, tickets and wristbands to places we went to together, that sort of thing. And of course the photo albums have pictures of us in everyday life as well as during outings and special occasions.
I also am very lucky in that I have some of his baby stuff too, things from before the time when I knew him. It means a lot because even though I didn’t give birth to him, I consider him my son. Having his baby things makes me feel closer to him, even though he’s so far away.
About 2 months ago, Donna left a giant pile of stuff on my porch. It was mostly Luna’s stuff, but she left a lot of Matt’s stuff too. Some of his stuff was the types of things I mentioned earlier from when I was in a relationship with Donna, but a bunch of it was his baby things. Bibs, baby diapers, onesies, booties, even the announcement that he was on the way to being welcomed into the world.
I sent pictures of all of it to Kristine, asking her if she wanted me to mail it to her because it’s from when he was a tiny baby. I know how meaningful it is, and as his mother, I know she would want it.
She never responded to me.
Well there was no way I was going to donate something so meaningful, so I put it all into his memory box, and I cherish each and every memory. I know I wasn’t there, but it’s part of his past, and it’s precious to me all the same. Just like Luna’s baby items are precious to me.
I love going through it all and remembering. Remembering how much fun we had, remembering how I comforted him when he was sad or hurt, how I took care of him from the time we met until the last day we saw each other.
You never know when the last day is going to be.
Our last day together was during his visit during Spring break of 2022. It won’t be long before it’s been 2 years since I last got to spend any time with him. Or hug him. Or see him with my own two eyes. Or talk to him.
It’s so painful to be away from him. I feel like I have lost my child.
Most will wave away my sorrow and say that it isn’t the same, I’m not his real mother. And I will agree that it’s not the same as if I were his biological mother for a few reasons.
- I didn’t see him as often as a biological mother would. I only got to see him and care for him during the agreed-upon custody times. And that was when Kristine was agreeable and allowed him to come to us.
- I didn’t know him, care for him, or bond with him as a baby.
- He and I weren’t as close as he is to his biological mother — how could we be? The reasons above wouldn’t allow it.
But that doesn’t take away from my grief. It doesn’t take away from the fact that he is my son, and I miss him every single day. He is a bright, beautiful, shining light, and he lights up the life of anyone she encounters.
I miss him. I really, really miss him. It’s that simple.
I am so grateful for the time we did have together, and if fate allows, I hope that one day, he will make his way back into our lives. Kristine can’t keep him from his sister forever, and I hope he will want to have a relationship with her. I know Luna wants to have a relationship with him. And I hope he will want to have a relationship with me too, because being his mother was one of the greatest privileges I’ve had.
In the meantime, I will celebrate him. Even though he doesn’t know it, I will be a support to him from afar. I will maintain that invisible string that ties him to me and Luna because even if Kristine keeps us apart, the invisible string always connects us. I won’t let him be forgotten in this house, no matter how painful it is to remember that a member of our family is missing. He will always have a place to rest his head, to eat, to find comfort and solitude and safety under my roof.
The tears have been an endless stream as I’ve written this. But it’s OK. The joy of having been able to make memories together makes the pain of being apart worth it.
I miss you, and I love you Matt, and your sister does, too. I hope you make your way back to us one day.
**READ ME (please)**
Two things!
One, please note that the names of everyone in this blog have been altered to protect the people I write about. My main goal is to explore my experiences and my growth, not air anyone’s dirty laundry out. Any likeness to people you know in real life are probably coincidental. (I mean what are the chances? It’s a pretty big world!)
Two, the thoughts and opinions I express in this blog are merely a result of my personal experiences to this point in my life. If there is anything I have misrepresented, overlooked, or have a blind spot for, feel free to leave a comment or email me at contact@livingbetween.net. (Yes, this includes typos. Let me fix my typos, please!) All I ask is that you always remain respectful.
Talk soon!
– Lynda –
Living Between 