Yesterday was the first anniversary of my divorce.
Tomorrow is the second anniversary of my separation.
I didn't get any sleep last night. Not unlike the night before my appearance in divorce court last year. Or the night(s) prior to my moving out of my ex-husband's house two years ago.
There is a post that has been on my mind a lot in the past couple of days. Snickollet wrote a really touching piece about babies and memory and all of the things she wants for her children to remember about their father who died of cancer when they were babies. Her hope is that they keep tangible memories of the time that they had with him, of their infancy, of the time when their family what nuclear and whole. It was very poignant and haunting for me.
I wish just about the polar opposite for my own child. I'm thankful that she has no memories (real or otherwise) of her family the way we intended it to be. Of her mother and father as a couple who lived together and were married. Of a time when her 'Daddy House' was shared by the three of us. When we bought a new car to replace the one that she now refers to as 'Ours'. The days we spent as brand new parents in the hospital. The slow, scary, drive home in the bitter cold going all of 8 miles an hour with an actual PERSON in the car seat. Of the weekends with family visiting. The endless laundry and cloth diapers. The stories we read to her in bed together before she was even a month old.
I'm glad she did not keep those memories because of all the ugly ones she would have brought along with them. Of a fight so loud it woke the baby. Of my being locked out of my own home by my own husband. Of all the alienation. The separation. The sadness. The head games and power plays. Of all the time it took to battle our way back to a place where we can act casually with one another.
As I write this I am in the midst of a great internal turmoil. I am wanting very much to talk to Daughter's father about amending our custody agreement so that she has more evenly divided time between the two of us.
This would put a lot of balls back in the air. Even broaching the subject is full of uncertainties and I am terrified of testing the waters of our hard won 'friendship'. I am terrified of creating ugly memories for my child that she would carry with her into her adult life. I want what I have always wanted for my baby, a peaceful life. A happy family, whatever that may look like.
I do not want her's to be a life of conflict or sadness or confusion.
I do not want her to be the subject of lawyers and trials and all those terrible things.
She asked me today if I could come live at her 'Daddy House'. She suggested that we get bunk beds and share her room.
I think I actually felt my heart break when I had to tell her that no, that would not be possible and could not promise her anything positive in return.
Happy Annivorcery to me. The first of many to come.