The first child is the experimental child. They are the ones that try your attempts at making homemade baby food. They’re the ones that you might have been extra harsh with because you refused for your kid to be “that” kid. They’re the ones that may have had a little less because you had them earlier than you planned. They are the ones that you hover over the most, because you’re protective and you aren’t above shoving a kid off a swing and accidentally kicking some dirt in their face for saying something mean to your angel. Admit it, you’ve thought of doing it when the kid’s parents don’t do a damn thing to their little brat. They’re the ones that you freak over every bruise, bump and ouchie. 50 band-aids for you! And have a couple pillows and some bubble wrap to go around you before you go play on the jungle gym. You shower them in educational shows and you play all that instrumental “smart baby” music. You try to be super mom. You feel like you made the most mistakes with them.
I was 17 when I had Eden. I remember wondering if I really wanted to go through with having her. I was still in high school and I was scared to death. I remember hoping that she was a boy. I wanted a boy so damn bad that I just couldn’t fathom having a girl. There was no way that she’d turn out right, because I wasn’t at all girly and didn’t really know much about girl things. Turns out, having a girl first is exactly what I needed. She just turned 8 this month. She had been through everything with me and truth be told, I relied on her too much. She taught me so much about myself. She is the most intelligent and realistic 8-year-old I have ever encountered. She is so wise for her age that sometimes I forget she is just a kid. I treat her like my peer sometimes. Tell her things that should probably wait until she is older, but she understands and she asks questions and I rarely let a question go unanswered. If I don’t know the answer, we’d google it together and I would explain it the best I could in words that she could grasp better than some scientific mumbo jumbo that I could barely decipher.
The day after her birthday, Eden moved away.
See, her dad and I separated a few years ago and he’s involved. It’s a good thing, him being involved. He’s a good dad and he just wants what is best for her like I do. He’s enlisted, so he doesn’t live here. He just got back from a 2 year adventure in Germany. He’s stationed 4 hours away from me. He wanted to take Eden to Germany with him, but she was only 5 or 6 at the time. I can’t remember how the discussion went or how dirty it got (we are friends, but the only thing that can get us fighting like dogs is stuff involving Eden), but she ended up staying with me. Once he found out where he was going to be stateside and closer than, you know, Alaska or some faraway place across the map, it was time. I didn’t want to admit it was time. I put off that shit until a couple months before it happened. It wasn’t real to me. Eden had never left me. Sure, when we were at Bragg she’d go and stay with my parents for a week or two at a time, but this was different. No matter how much fun she had at my parents, she would always come back.
Let’s talk about my parents. They have done SO much for me that I could never repay. More than some parents would do, that’s for damn sure. Needless to say, nothing would surprise them anymore. I was the definition of a hell child. Got pregnant at 16, got married, and moved out. Got tattoos, piercings, dyed my hair all kinds of colors, got a divorce, more tattoos, up and left for California for 2 weeks for my 21st birthday to meet up with some people I had never met in person and had just played wow with. Surprise, I’m pregnant. Couldn’t take an abusive relationship any longer and had them come get my ass and all my stuff in less than a 24 hour period. I’m sure I could have been worse… like a serial killer or something. Honestly though, my dad had no choice but to mellow out and stop caring so much or he was going to have a heart attack and gray hair before he was 45.
What comes with involved parents like mine, is them being involved grand-parents. They have been a staple in my children’s lives. Honestly, I don’t /didn’t know my grand-parents all that well. I mean I knew them… but not like my kids know theirs. My mom’s dad died when she was a kid and my mom’s mom; well she passed away 5 or 6 years ago. I grew up around her, but never really formed a relationship of any kind with her. I didn’t feel like I could go to her for advice or help, you know? My dad’s parents, they’re still around. Very religious… I’m not. My grandpa and dad had a lot of hard times with each other. Won’t go into too deep, but he’s not a loving, involved grandpa. He’s kind of sick and it’s probably because of overuse of alcohol. My grandma, she tries to be involved as best she can be, but she’s got a lot of grand kids. Her advice is often something like “look to God” and that’s not for me.
So with that knowledge, you can imagine how pissed and upset my parents were when I finally told them about Eden’s adventure that was coming up. I’m not blaming them for being upset, I understand. Feeling like they were helpless and that it didn’t matter what they had to say. There was blame everywhere. There is STILL blame. Blaming Eden’s dad, blaming me, blaming that it was because I got remarried and Eden’s dad didn’t like my husband. Comments were made about this and that and OH MY GOD. I can’t take the shit any longer. I’m about burn the fuck out on this blame game shit.
It was just 11 days ago that she left. She is having so much fun. Despite some people telling her she wasn’t going to have friends or see her dad that much, she still rose up and has integrated into her dad’s lifestyle nicely. Adapting is in her nature; that kid could adapt to any kind of lifestyle. She doesn’t have much time to talk to me about it. She’s always on the go and always busy and I tell her I’m happy for her. I’m so glad she is having so much fun and getting to spend time with her dad. She loves her dad and loves to spend time with him. She has missed him. I smile and tell her that I love her.
And I do. I love that kid to death. I’ll kill for that kid and I wouldn’t hesitate. I’d find a way to get to the moon if I needed to, for her. There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do. Everyone knows it. I may have not been the best mom when it came to instilling consistent habits. Brushing her teeth twice a day, taking a vitamin, eating square meals… but I love her and I’d die if it meant that she’d get to live a good happy life. Some days, it feels like I have. I struggle every day. It’s almost like I don’t know how to function without her here. I don’t know how to get through a day without crying over something. I’ve cried because my 2.5 can’t talk to me like Eden did. I cry because I found something she forgot to take with her. I cry because I’m a little jealous that her dad can give her things that I can’t. Things that I had to save money or plan for, he can just buy at a moment’s notice. He made a life for himself in the Army and I know that he sacrificed and worked his ass off and went through depressed times without his kid to get it… but I’m jealous as shit.
So jealous that it has directly impacted our friendship that I can’t even talk to him anymore. Despite our failure as a married couple, we are good friends. We share advice on countless things and it has caused its share of problems in my marriage, I won’t lie… but at the same time my husband KNOWS that it’s just a friendship. Not only did I lose my daughter for a year, but I lost a friend too. That’s something that I can’t admit to everyone. That is something that would probably cause some mild jealousy from my husband, but I can’t deny it. I won’t lie about it. I’ve known Eden’s dad for about 11 years. We have hated each other’s guts and probably planned out each other’s death. 11 years ago, we were friends first and caved under peer pressure to date. Things kind of escalated from there.
The judgment is everywhere, breathing down my neck. Wanting to know, WHY? WHY? Why did you “let” him take her? She needs her mommy, she needs you. She needs him too. She needs her dad. Sure, my husband is an amazing father figure to her, but if she can have her real dad then she needs that. She needs the guy who has gave up so much for her. She needs to know that a man will do that for their kids. She needs to know. It’s important that she learn how her dad treats women now. She needs to know what to expect. The standards she learns from her dad will imprint on her more so than any standards she learns from my husband, because that’s her dad. If she’s like me, she will try every day to impress him. Every day, she will try to make him proud. Her dad knows that he needs to acknowledge that. As hard as it may be for him to put into words like it was for my dad, I have coached him to know what to say. I have prepared him to know what she is looking for so that she can get something that I failed to get more often than I got.
As much as I know she needs that, it still hurts. It hurts to know that I’m not there helping her with her homework. I’m not there to hear about how the bad kid in the class got put on red and why. I’m not there to help her pick out books from the book fair or to pick out clothes or cuddle up and watch Air bud buddies. Air Bud was one of my all-time favorites as a kid and I saw myself in her when she would try her best to convince me that it was in her best interest to binge watch all the “Buddies” movies on Netflix.
The plan is for her to move back in a year. Plans don’t always work out. She might move back and hate it in comparison to what she had there. She might rather be with her dad. It’ll kill me. It’ll kill me to let her go back when all I want is for her to be here with me. I wish I could be selfish and say fuck it to her well-being. Just keep her here and not let her go anywhere. As parents, we just want our kids to be happy. If she isn’t happy here, I’ll take all the damn heat from everyone in the world and let her go. I’ll be the bad guy to everyone else. I’ll be what society thinks is just a “don’t give a fuck” mom that doesn’t want to raise her kid and throw her off on someone else. I’ll be that wrong judgment call… If it means she is happy.
There is a part of me that isn’t here anymore. I’m sad, but you know what, I’m great at hiding it. I’m hiding it for her and I’ve already told you what I’d give to see her happy, so hiding a little bit of pain is doable infinity times over and I’d do it a million times just to see her happy and see her shine.
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