Friday, February 15, 2013

9 Months Later

Wow.. this post was meant to be an update. But a positive one. And as soon as I opened my laptop, typed the title, and let it sit in... the tears came. I suppose that is the most telling of all updates I had drafted in my head though.

I went to Tallahassee this week. The town where our relationship began. Where we had our "us against the world" first year of marriage. Where he promised me many many nights that we would spend many many more nights together. The town that my in-laws who caused so much hurt live... and where he assured me he didn't even question their place in our life. Where we were neighbors.. then lived together as husband and wife. Our first apartment. The road we used to race each other on every morning on our way to work. The disgusting pizza place he loved so much that I suffered through for him a few times. Our first date. The fairgrounds where he proposed at the top of the ferris wheel. Every corner holds a memory of "us". The first time I went back after the split, I cried at every single one of those corners. What coulda, shoulda, woulda been. I cried for him, for me, for us, for Aubrey Jo who will never remember us like that. This week, I instead saw memories with my old girlfriends, or the restaurants my granny & grandpa liked to go to when they would visit me. I thought of him, but mostly because I was in the midst of paperwork from him. I thought that meant progress...

I broke down on my way home from Florida. Far from home. Near the town that we once broke down & had to walk 2 dogs (without leashes) down a busy road to a hotel nearby. We made a little vacation out of it. We talked about that night every time we drove past the exit. This time, I didn't think about that night. In fact, I didn't think about him.I thought that meant progress...
Over the summer, one of the girls I babysat locked herself in a room. I panicked & called him to walk me through how to pick the lock. I called him for help before I realized I dialed his number. This time, I handled it myself & didn't even think of needing to call him. I got an hour down the road before I realized I made it without calling him. I thought that meant progress...

Then I decided I felt so proud of myself I should blog it. I am making progress & getting better, right? I thought so. Until I typed the subject... and cried. 9 months. Nine. Every woman on the planet knows what 9 months means. That's all it takes for a sweet little baby to grow from a spark in her mommy's eye to a precious girl in her mommy's arms. We had talked about me coming off my birth control. We planned to start trying in the fall. That's when I left. It just occurred to me that instead of having to put into written words why I am a good parent to this one child, this one child that is stuck in the middle of her father's bad choices & her mommy's angry broken heart, I could have been filling out a birth certificate for her little brother or sister. I could have been smiling for photos in a hospital gown with my newborn baby in one arm, a sweet big sister in my other arm, and all 3 of us wrapped up in their daddy's loving warm arms. Coulda... woulda... I guess that doesn't mean progress.

1 comment:

  1. This was really beautiful Julianne.. I love you girl and just so you know, I think you are doing awesome.


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