I am a Christian woman. What that means to me is that I am an incredibly flawed, sick, sinner in need of Gods help. One such thing that is plaguing me as of late is this horrible feeling of injustice. I have been the best mother I could for my son as long as I’ve been aware of his existence. God blessed me with a beautiful gift in the middle of a terrible mess… even me. My ballad the last twelve years at least: even me. God believed I was worth this sweet beautiful loving caring compassionate strong brave baby. I’ve been battling this feeling of injustice. I’ve poured my heart and soul into the well being of my son at the expense of my personal emotional well being. Time and time again I acquiesced to what I thought was “best” for him and ate my own feelings of trauma and pain. I supported and nurtured a relationship with his father. Something every child needs. I battled to force visitation and support. I fought tooth and nail to ensure accountability not because I needed it, but because he needed it. I provided for him. I skipped meals so he could have seconds of kraft mac and cheese, his favorite. I snuggled him in his sleep, I washed the puke out of his hair, I comforted him when he felt like he was not enough. I reassured him his fathers absence had nothing to do with him and everything to do with his father.
In the midst of all of this, I am subject to accusations of alienation. I spent Christmas without my sweet angel. I gave everything all year to make sure he had what he needed spiritually emotionally physically and educationally and I was robbed of my only precious gift I have: time. My heart is broken. I love you, son. I miss you. I pray for you. God has you wrapped in his arms, as he does me. There is no greater gift. Merry Christmas, sweet angel. Always.