When I was expecting my son, Max, I could never have imagined that he would one day cause me such deep pain. How could this perfect little being, kicking joyfully inside me, ever hurt me? This tiny person who expanded my heart in ways I never knew possible. I could feel his kindness and good intentions growing within me.
Fast forward seven years, and his little voice comes through my phone. “Mommy, I want to stay with Dad.” And just like that, my heart fractures.
It’s been two weeks—the longest stretch I’ve ever spent away from Max—and I feel a profound emptiness. I see reminders of him everywhere; every moment is colored by thoughts of what Max would enjoy or dislike. Each morning, I notice our cat patiently waiting outside his room, wishing I could curl up beside her, hoping for his return. I gently pat her on the head. I miss him too, little buddy.
I’ve been eagerly awaiting this phone call. As the time for our scheduled chat approaches, I feel like a teenage girl waiting anxiously for a boy to ask her to the dance. When he calls, his voice is bright and cheerful. He’s having a blast—swimming, learning baseball, and indulging in sugary cereal. But then, like a swift blow, he drops the bombshell comment that sends me spiraling.
But really, who can blame him? Our life is a whirlwind of schedules, school, and healthy meals, while his time with his dad is filled with water parks, Disney adventures, and treats galore. Sure, we do fun things too, but they blend into the everyday hustle of life for a seven-year-old. The excitement of parties and video games during his visits with Dad is hard to compete with.
I understand this, yet it doesn’t lessen the sting. I feel as if I have lost this “divorce.” I never meant for our separation to turn into a contest. I always envisioned that once the initial pain subsided, we would both find happiness in our new lives and collaborate as co-parents.
I thought that after breaking free from an unhealthy relationship and finding love again, we could unite as a supportive family for Max. How fortunate he would be to have so many people in his life!
Instead, each visit seems to culminate in accusations thrown at me by my ex, which he stores away for future use “in court,” leaving me feeling raw and defensive. Max claims I don’t pay attention to him. I don’t send him with trendy clothes. His haircut isn’t right. He doesn’t walk on the lines of the sidewalk, which they say indicates abuse. He even says I lock him in the closet for timeouts.
I want to scream and fly to Arizona to set things straight. I want to defend myself and reveal my own list of grievances; believe me, I could fill a volume. You can’t go through a marriage and divorce without a trove of secrets. I crave a conversation, a chance to sit down face to face and discuss the absurdity of it all. Doesn’t he realize how ludicrous this situation is? I want to ask Max if he really said those things, but how can I be sure?
Deep down, I don’t want to fight. I want to forgive. When you choose to lay down your defenses and open your heart, the person attacking you appears unhinged. Opting not to retaliate against someone hurling accusations can lead to forgiveness.
Larry, I forgive you for attempting to turn Max against me. I forgive you for your list of untruths. Thank you for showering our son with love and joy during his visits. It must have been painful for you when I left. I can see the hurt behind your anger. I regret not loving you enough to stay, but I loved Max enough to leave. He deserves the best of us, and during our time together, he saw me as sad and defeated. He witnessed you being angry and distant. Forgiveness and love will always triumph for me, even when my heart feels shattered.