"Love me when I least deserve it, because that’s when I really need it.” – Swedish Proverb
My boys are spending the day with their Dad. A Ferrari car show or something. I am home, cleaning, putzing, wandering the house. I called my Dad and extended the usually Fathers Day greetings, chatted with my mother who ended the call early because my sister showed up for her Fathers Day visit.
As far as adoption trauma goes, Fathers Day rarely bothered me. At least not most of the time. I rarely, barely, think of my daughter’s father as her father. To me, in some odd way, she is mine. Not his. She and I are in our own little world and he doesn’t have a right to belong. I could get into this further and why I feel this way but again, it’s her story. I am also very aware that it is wrong and unjust. He is indeed her father. I wouldn’t have her if it weren’t for him.
I promised him I wouldn’t write about of him as she may find it someday and concoct and incorrect vision of him and what happened. Even still, I don’t think much about him or adoption or even about her today – Fathers Day.
This was not always the case. For a few years following the loss of her to adoption, I was a mean rotten little bitch. I was angry and my soul was bleeding and I projected a lot of the anger that I felt onto him rather than towards the agency, my parents, society at large and even myself. He could have, should have, blah blah blah. I hurt the person I wanted and loved the most at that time. Him.
Here comes the little bitch part.
For the first few years I would mail him Fathers Day cards. They would be unsigned and usually had greetings like “From your Darling Daughter on Fathers Day”. I mailed them to his parent’s home. It was awful. I know that. He and I have since discussed it, he actually teases me about it and last year said “Hey, no need to send me a card this year”. He’s done his best to integrate the trauma as I have. Our reconnecting years ago and talking through most of our baggage (not all but most) has been hugely healing to us both and I am sure to our subsequent children.
Regardless, I do wish him a Happy Fathers Day wherever he may be celebrating it. She is beautiful, she is brilliant, talented, and more. Part of that comes from him. To love her I must love him.
Always have. Always will.