I know that probably the only thing on this earth that you wanted for Mother's Day was for your one and only son to call you.
And I know that he didn't call you.
We both know why, although you want to pretend that you don't.
But you know what?
I'm not sorry for anything I've said or done, because my only "crime" is loving your son. Yes, he loves me more than he loves you. It didn't mean he didn't love you. It just meant that he loved me and wanted to make his life with me. We could have all had a nice family, together, had you not pushed me and my children away. Had you not treated us like we were scum and not worthy of being in your family.
Because I knew, the first time you threatened me, that if you made him decide between us, he would pick me.
Because I would have never asked him to do that. Never.
And really? The funny thing is?
I'm a really nice person.
I would have made a kick-ass daughter-in-law.
I love your son. He is the completion of my family. He loves me. We laugh. A lot. We have a nice family and a nice home. We have good jobs. In fact, I have a great job, despite the crazy people, and make more money than I probably deserve and he has a really great job and while he works long hours, he's really moving up and doing quite well for us. I worked my butt off and graduated college and made good grades. I encourage your son every day of his life. Do you know that he wouldn't even have his job, were it not for me saying, "Babe, go for it. I believe in you!"?
I'm a freaking fantastic wife.
I volunteer. I work with little girls trying to teach them their self-worth. I give money to charity. I'm kind and decent. Jason and I are raising two young people to become productive, caring, good decent people. And they? Are awesome.
We are good people. We are a great family.
And you are not a part of it.
So, for Mother's Day, I asked my husband a favor. Something I'm certain he never thought would come from my mouth.
I asked him to call you.
I know you think that *I* am the reason that he has nothing to do with you. I know you blame me for him not talking to you for over two and 1/2 years. I know you think that had I never come around, his life would have been so much better...he would have married the girl that YOU wanted him to marry...they'd probably have children together, not just some other man's "baggage"...not some wife with messed up girlie bits who can't give you grandchildren.
But that's just not true. None of it is. Okay, the part about me being infertile? That's true. But the rest of it is rubbish.
He didn't want to call you. Even though I asked him to call you. He didn't want to.
And I'm sorry for that.
Not because you deserve a call from him, because you most certainly do not.
But because it was Mother's Day. And I'm certain it was hurting your heart.
Because if your son was my son? And he didn't call me? It would kill me.
Because your son? Is amazing.
You aren't even aware of very amazing he is. What a good, hard-working man he is. What a good father he is. What a good husband he is. What a good, decent, kind person he is.
And even though you hate me, I have to say to you:
Because clearly something you did at some point in this man's life, impacted him.
Thank you for giving birth to him.
Thank you for taking him to church.
Thank you for protecting him from his drug-addicted father.
Thank you for sending him to good schools.
Thank you for allowing him time with his loving grandmother.
Thank you for moving to North Carolina, so that he would be waiting for me when I got there.
I know you'll never understand. I know you want to continue to live in your own little world and pretend that the problem is really me, and not you. And that's okay.
I probably would do the same, if I lost what you have lost.
I hope you managed to have a nice day anyway. I really mean that.
Pssst...for significantly less depressing crap, see my other blog!