My oldest son is having a baby. It’s been cute to watch my three boys excitedly await the arrival of the new ‘girl’ in their lives. It makes me proud as a mom.
I’ve raised those kinds of men.
The loving, caring, kind, strong, confident, share your feelings type of guys.
They have no false bravado. They don’t view expressions of love as a sign of weakness. They view it as a sign of the type of family they come from. A family that doesn’t miss the opportunity to say, ‘I love you.’
We’ve been on baby watch.
We’ve been counting down the days. When will she be here? We can’t wait to meet her.! There’s a new girl in town. Our lives will never be the same.
Another person to love.
Could anything be better?!
The moment finally arrived. I got the call from my son to come to their apartment and take care of their dog. They were heading to the hospital.
I couldn’t stand the excitement.
The first few hours that’s all I thought of.
But then…
My mind drifted to the past.
I’m sure it’s normal. I’m sure most women in my position must relive their own baby moments. But I was unprepared. I wasn’t just feeling nostalgic. I wasn’t just feeling sentimental.
I found myself wanting to call my ex-husband.
I wanted to share the excitement with him.
It’s crazy, right?!
He’s been horrible to me. It was a divorce to end all divorces. It was a divorce to scare anyone out of getting a divorce. He aggressively bullied me for years.
It was brutal.
I fought hard for my freedom.
I fight now to raise awareness of this type of behavior.
Despite this harsh reality…
I found myself wishing we could share this moment. I found myself wishing we hadn’t ended on terrible terms. I found myself wanting to bond (over this miraculous moment) with a man who has brutally hurt me.
I found myself wishing we had one of those ‘rare’ divorces.
The good kind.
The kind where mature men and women are good to one another. Where they accept their differences and their failures. Where they mourn the better side of love, and what they once imagined they would be.
I wanted to share memories with him.
I wanted to remember the three best days of our lives. I wanted to relive the experience. The moments only he and I understand. The miraculous entry of the three greatest loves of my life.
But then I remembered.
I can’t.
That will never happen.
I can’t blame divorce. Plenty of divorced people make their way back to the middle. Plenty of divorced people reconcile for the sake of their children. They learn to live with a degree of common ground.
We never will.
Instead I am left (while waiting for the next greatest love of my life) with singular memories. The better times between a man and me. The times that once made it harder to leave him.
The emotional landmarks that belong to the two of us.
The dual moments…turned singular.
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This post was previously published on medium.com.
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Photo credit: zana pq On Unsplash
