This post is heartbreaking for me to write. Incredibly painful . . . more painful than anything I have ever had to deal with when it comes to Seth and Down Syndrome and even my brothers suicide.
This post is about the end of my ten year relationship with Seth's father, a man I always thought I would love and trust, someone I thought I would be with forever.
And it's over.
There's no more.
There is so much that I can say, so much to be said, about why we are no longer together. We both made mistakes, I'm 29 and I don't play the blame game. We are both hurting, we are both sad that this is the way it is.
And I'm sitting here sicker than I've ever felt, I can't eat, can't sleep, can't think straight to clean or do laundry or try to untangle the mess of thoughts flowing through my head.
But last night, as I was trying so hard to fall asleep, I started remembering. . . .
remembering all those great times together.
And for once throughout this whole process, I wasn't sad, I didn't cry tears of sadness, I cried them of joy.
Cause we had some good times together, some damn good ones.
I remember the first time I met him and I was attracted to him instantly. . . it was magical. The first time we kissed, he didn't kiss me on the mouth, he kissed me on the forehead and it was wonderful.
The day we spend in Chinatown just shopping and laughing, then we went to little Italy for lunch and instead of being upset that lunch was $75 (a lot for us in our young age), I paid the bill with the last of my check money for that week and enjoyed a nice meal with him. We went back to Chinatown, but not before he bought me a Gamecube. No one had ever done anything that nice for me before.
I remember the first time we really went out to eat, we went to a pizzeria in Park Slope, a famous one, great pizza, and he spilled his drink all over my lap and I didn't care. We went to Prospect Park afterwards and met up with some of his friends.
I remember summer nights walking late at night, midnight, 1am, 2am, it didn't matter because we were together. We would walk everywhere, just talking, just being together.
I remember when we came home from the hospital without Seth in our arms because he had jaundice and we were hysterical holding each other.
I remember the movies, we loved going to the movies, all of the movies we've seen over the last 10 years, all the Star Wars and Spider-Man and action movies and geeky stuff that we've seen.
And I thought to myself last night, I'm going to write down each one of these memories and put them in a box somewhere. Because I don't want these memories to be corrupted by what is going on right now. I don't want those memories tainted. They are good. They bring me back to happier times.
I'm reminded about something that Rachel Coleman wrote in her blog, I forget which exact post it was, but it was something akin to "we stayed together because neither of us wanted to do it alone". She said this about raising her daughters Leah and Lucy, both who have special needs.
And truthfully I think that is what happened here. We stayed together because raising Seth apart would have been beyond difficult.
Those first two years were so hard, there was so much going on, neither of us could have done it alone. Neither of us wanted to do it alone.
And that is not a good reason to stay together, it never is, but it is what it is, we are here now, and five years of dealing with Seth and Down Syndrome combined with all of the problems we faced before I got pregnant snowballed to this point in time.
Am I okay?
Not today. Probably not tomorrow. Perhaps not next month.
But I will be.
And that has to be good enough for me right now.