Do you ever wonder if it would be better to know if a moment was your last? Or would you rather not know? When I know those last moments, I over-analyze. I attempt to freeze the moment and gulp too much air so that later in life when something reminds me of that exact moment I want to puke. I still do that with moments of my Ex and I. Because I Knew. Every. Last. Moment.
I didn’t know the last moment I would hold my Rebecca in my arms. Quite frankly I couldn’t even tell you to this day when that last moment came before the storm. The beginning seemed simple with the Lawyer. The Ex and I sat and answered even more questions while gripping hands, hoping we were answering correctly. Lawyer scribbled notes and I’m sure he explained everything. He was good at that but all that produced was a document so bio Mom would be served with the knowledge that we wanted custody. I KNOW I didn’t allow myself to think about the outcome because sometimes it is easier.
So to this day I don’t know the last day I held Rebecca before she was gone from us for over a year. Yes, we would see her in spurts but nothing was the same. The baby we had raised for the past couple of years was now being held from us because her bio Mom and guardian were served and they saw us as a threat. This was it. We were going in for the battle. There was no turning back.
Do you have a child at home as you read this? Do you have a baby on your lap as your read this? Imagine that child being ripped away from you by people that are addicts, in and out of jail, people who didn’t know what you child’s cry meant…imagine handing your baby to them. That.
To this day I can’t look at court documents without wanting to vomit. Black and white letters put in such a way on a paper with such power. That is why the Ex dealt with the lawyer and paperwork when him and I went through our divorce many years later, he knew I couldn’t do it. It was his turn. I couldn’t take another court document that changed our lives.
The process had begun and the rumors and hatred began to spread through my family. Years from now, when I’m long gone, someone will do our genealogy and wonder who fucked up the whole family. It was me. I tore my Mother’s family apart. Simply put. A line was drawn and shots were being taken. I can look back and tell you now what those moments of legal documents being sent out meant. It meant my Mom’s siblings, all 7 of them, would never go home all together for Christmas. Grandma would be fought over, turns would be taken while Grandpa was in the hospital and one huge Irish family would never speak to one another again. It stands true to this day. Why? Because so many had legal problems, so many didn’t want others in the family business, because they stood to lose something as well, because they thought if you saw something bad you should turn away and shut your mouth, mind your own business. I was different though. Although I can tell you some more truth to this day, I have had some family members finally give in and say “If it wasn’t for you, there is no telling where Rebecca would be at now. You did the right thing.” I know it pains them to say this and some won’t say it to my face but they have said it.
Just like that life changes. I wouldn’t have wanted to know every moment I changed. I’m sure I never will. I didn’t just change me and my Exes life with that first document, I changed the course of everyone’s life. I just had to keep telling myself that I changed the most important life…..Rebecca’s.
There the Ex and I stood on our own island. Us against the world. Over and over there was no turning back from simply having a baby placed in your arms. Hell, it was only the beginning. Better yet….it was just the beginning of our own hell.