A love letter : to the divorced mom who is separated from her kids on a special day

I’m so sorry that you’re in pain and hurting and missing your little ones.  I know you’re trying not to think about not seeing your baby girl who is turning ten right now, and that you feel left out and sad.  You know in your head that it’s a good and positive thing she gets to have a birthday party with her father and his new girlfriend, that it’s his new girlfriend’s positive influence that is allowing this nice event to happen. 

It’s okay that you’re upset about the “injustice”—that the man who caused you so much pain and fear and continues to sow hurt and pain to his family is the same man who gets to be the “good and fun” dad who brings cupcakes to school and throw parties.  Yes it hurts and yes it’s sad.

It’s okay that you were crying, missing your baby because ten years ago, you were in the hospital giving birth to her, after he had driven your mom who was suffering with parkinson’s crazy with his no patience and snappy outlook.  It’s unfair you don’t get to see her today. 

Your head knows that you are always their mother and in your heart you know it too, it just hurts to be away from her.  Please be gentle with you, be kind and compassionate.  Let me hug you because I know your pain and fears and sadness about being separated from your children.  That you’re worried they will somehow forget that you love them.

It may not feel like it right now, but you will be okay, and this situation will get better.  Your daughter and her big sister are growing up, and the most important thing is that they know they are loved.  They always feel your love and support, even when the cranky teenager is being cranky, and even when energetic little sister is being extra.  That at your house there are rules and there is also room for mistakes, and there is always room for love and for healing.  There’s room for forgiveness and trying new things and being lazy and being active.  For working hard at school or at girl scouts and for relaxing playing with slime (sigh) or ipads (double sigh), and there is always room for dreams.  And hugging and patting our dog.  There’s room for sharing complicated feelings, like when little one shared some feelings about how dad’s girlfriend takes care of dad, you responded with love—that the most important thing is that dad’s girlfriend is nice to you and that you like her.  At your house, there’s room for all the feelings, happy, cranky, surly, silly, loving, laughter, kindness.  They will grow up knowing this like the air in our lungs, it’s just there.  At least, that’s the hope, and it’s a pretty good hope.

So hugs for you for hanging in there, and doing what you can to fill up the time while they’re away…keep working on your house and working on healing and take time to exercise and get into the ocean and the sun and spend time with your friends and loved ones.  They will be home before you know it.  Little one asked if she could have a birthday party with you, because she couldn’t invite all of her friends at dad’s, and so you will.  And a new day will come and then the next one with it, and they will be sleeping in their beds.  They will be asking you to help with homework, and wondering what’s for dinner, and if they can have nori for a snack or if there’s anymore rice in the cooker or if they can have some bacon for breakfast.  They will come and go and come and go and you know in your heart, your job is to always be there for them, and that’s a job you know you can and always will do. 

My heart is full of love for you and for them.  You are not alone. 

p.s. happy valentine’s day, sharing a little bit of love from my heart to yours.