This co-parenting thing ...

Is tough. Especially when the other parent is - intentionally or not - complicating things. A lot. Especially when the other parent decides to back out of a day with his son, and then an hour later decide he wants to have his son after all, and then the next morning act all covert-ops and refuse to text me about his schedule and then just disappear when he's supposed to be picking up Asher.

Especially when the other parent feels like they are all alone, no one is helping them or caring about them and their schedule and their needs, and that they are constantly getting the short end of the stick, Natalie. You have people helping you, Natalie. If I could be xyz all the time, Natalie, that would be great. But I can't.

Well apparently, because of his subsequent failures and disappointments, I am the responsible party; for causing this divorce, for demanding things from him that are just so unreasonable. I'm responsible for his lack of responsibility (!), his lack of maturity, his lack of willingness to work hard and make an effort at life. Because apparently he wasn't this sad and this alienated and this much of a failure when I met him; it's just gotten worse and worse, thanks to my encouragement.

I mean really, we're talking about *his* son here, too. If he wants to see him, he can see him. The schedule is simply there to make our lives as structured and predictable (in at least this one area) as possible so we all know what's happening next and there isn't total chaos. But of course he thrives on total chaos, being the center of attention and then acting like it's everyone else's problem that there is chaos and he's just the innocent victim. So of course he screws up the schedule and then blames me for expecting from him: responsibility, consistency, follow-through. God. Forbid.

I tried not to lull myself into thinking that co-parenting would be a breeze. I knew it wouldn't be. If moving out was this hard on me, I knew co-parenting would present its own set of challenges. I do still have to interact with him and try to make those interactions as friendly and caring and thoughtful and peaceful as possible - FOR ASHER. However, if I'm the only one making those efforts and taking those strides toward an amicable relationship, it will only fail. Which is the obvious end result. If you think about our marriage, it failed for the same reason. You can't have a partnership where one partner is dragging the other partner through the relationhip, forcing them to be responsible, be an adult ... because they are lazy and think everything is A-OK all the while blaming the other partner for making them feel like a failure.

So yeah, I knew that if nothing changed inside him, this relationship would be no different than our marriage. But it's still hard. It's still really difficult to know that I have to deal with this stunted, selfish person who doesn't even know or care how to interact with me in an adult and mutually respectful way, for the next twenty years. He doesn't even see the care and respect I give to him as such. He has always thought my interactions with him are barbed with judgment and rudeness and malice. Good God that is exhausting.

I don't know how this thing is going to go. Some days it seems fine and other days it's a rollercoast ride, a balancing act, a back and forth between reason and completely irrational emotion. Maybe in time things will settle into a more comfortable and predictable routine. For everyone's sake I know that's what needs to happen but I can't force it to happen. If I've learned anything, I know I can't make anything happen with or for him that he doesn't also want to happen. My entire marriage was me trying so hard to get him to be a success, to think better of himself; and I finally realized what a crazy-making, failed-from-the-start endeavor THAT was. Despite what he says he's a glutton for punishment. He refuses to break away from that rut so it's all he knows and all he allows.

At least this time around I can know from the start that I can do nothing to control or manage this situation except to ensure Asher's care and safety and to ensure MY sanity by staying above the fray of drama. Or at least trying.

On Moving Out. On Moving On.



Summer sun in the backyard

This weekend, I moved out. I have spent much of this year in a fog, feeling like I'm not sure what to do, what my next step will be, how to take that step, and what will happen when I do.

January 6th was the day that kind of started it all. Kind of, only because it had actually started long before; but it was the day of reckoning, the day of honesty, the day I made my decision known. It hit me that day that THAT was why I had waited so long to say anything. Telling my spouse I was done was one of the hardest things I've ever experienced.

All year I've waited and talked and taken time to ease into this reality. All year I've tried to be sensitive and understanding and caring as much as I can. To a point, this is good; it's always good to treat other people with care and delicacy and respect for their feelings. But beyond that point it is out of my control and not my problem. Rude? Definitely not. Realistic? For sure.

October 13th saw me leaving the house for the last time as a resident (my name remains on the mortgage for the time being) and driving away with the last trunk full of clothes, tchotchkes and furniture. I left the rooms in as much order as I could. I rearranged furniture to make sure the rooms didn't look abandoned and messy. Instead, they look neatly arranged and comfortable, floors swept, pillows fluffed, beds made. Again, I didn't have to; but I did. Maybe because I'm pretty damn nice. Or maybe because I'm scared and walking on egg shells and it's one thing I can do to ... appease?

The moving out is done. Now for the moving on.



Cottonwood tree

My ex mother in law thinks I just need to tell him in details why I am done so he can move on. I find that amusingly unrealistic, considering I've talked and detailed til I'm blue in the face. Considering I've busted my butt working for this marriage to no avail. You can't be the only one working on a partnership; that's an oximoron. Eight years later, I finally got that. And no amount of talking and explaining and detailing will get him to see or understand where I'm coming from. I can only hope that time will help him heal, and that HE will help himself heal by being honest - truly, painfully honest - with himself and with his therapist to reach a realistic, healthy place for his own good. He needs that. And I can't get him to that place. I sure tried though.

As I pulled away from my house for the last time as a resident, I felt a wash of relief and renewal. Like I could start being me again. Like I could try to find the new, grown up, independent Natalie, whoever she is. Like I could do what I wanted to do; like I could just ... be.

That's not to say there weren't good times and memories from our marriage; there certainly were. I remember camping out in our den during the holidays a few years ago with a fire in the fireplace for Lord of the Rings Extended Edition marathons. I remember biking and exploring through the woods behind our apartment complex. I remember Colorado vacations. Those were good things. Those things can't be taken away and they shouldn't. But the bad things ... those I want to forget and move past. I want to move on. I want to get over it and move on with my own life. My life and his life are going to be linked because of our incredible son. And that's OK.

 

Summer alley

It might be tough, but I intend to make the most of it for Asher's sake and to be the best mom and I can be for him no matter what is going on around me. That's part of why I left my marriage.

I have to be the best me so I can be the best mom. Asher deserves the very best mom. God picked me as his mama and I have to be strong, honest, happy, balanced, dedicated, hopeful ... I have to be my best so I can be the best for him.

He deserves that. He deserves a mama who is moved on and fully present. And that is what I intend to do.

That nervous pit goes away eventually ... right?

As I have finally stepped back from my life and taken a good look at what's going on, it's been something of a shock. The type of person I have been up to this point is blind and oblivious, no matter how in tune I think I am. I have been an 'all in' kind of person and when I go all in, I don't look back; I don't look anywhere. I just go. And then realize once it's too late that I've made a massive error. For the last eight years or so, I haven't really looked too hard at what I've been doing, right now, in this moment. I think I'm doing the right thing, I think I'm taking the right steps so I just take them and do my thing and do it wholeheartedly, which for me means without thinking. I have always been a forward thinking person - I am a planner - but somehow I have managed to blindly lead myself down a path that has gotten me through eight years of marriage that didn't fulfill but instead drained me, used me, and spat me back out. Now I'm embarking on a totally new life - a fresh start - that I never expected. I should have expected all of this. I just didn't want to; I didn't want to see it because I thought I was working so hard and doing all the right things to avoid this. But here I am.

I've had a pit in my stomach for a long time. When I realized how I had failed at my own life - and how hugely disappointed I was - there was kind of a soul-wrenching realization that settled in heavy and hard and hasn't let go. I don't think it does until I have been painfully and thoroughly honest with myself and decide to face the reasons instead of ignoring them yet again.

This whole year has been an eye-opening experience for me. I still feel like I'm walking through a fog and just leaning toward the dim light that will guide me out eventually. That light being a new direction for my life. I have been so scared to make any real and necessary changes for a long time because I didn't want to see how wrong I was: I made a really big mistake.

The last straw - the last handful of straws, really - has made me finally see what the hell is going on, what I've been putting up with and what has actually been a bunch of red flags - deal breakers - that I've been ignoring all along. Once I finally acknowledged them, it was a huge, relieving gasp of air. Like I've been sinking slowly and never even opened my eyes to see the surface slowly fading away. Once I 'got it', once I made a change - a last-ditch lurch toward the surface - that gasp of air was my wake up call. It's a weird moment. For me it really wasn't just one moment. It was a slow fade, a gradient experience as I was slowly waking up to my reality. It was like waking in the morning. There is a period where you are awake but don't quite know it ... you still drift in and out of a sleepy dream state and eventually the sensory input from around you comes on stronger than your dreams and you are fully awake. Now I just have to see that through and trust what I'm doing. It has felt right ever since I made my choice. It still feels right. Deep down, I know it's right. It's incredibly, achingly difficult, but it's right. I just have to keep reminding myself of that.

I'm starting over. I'm doing what I need. I'm finding myself again. It's painful and nerve-wracking; and that pit still lingers. But one of these days it will be gone and it won't come back.


"I now realize that lives fall apart when they need to be rebuilt. Lives fall apart when the foundation upon which they were built needs to be relaid. Lives fall apart, not because God is punishing us for what we have or have not done. Lives fall apart because they need to. They need to because they weren't built the right way in the first place."

~ Iyanla Vanzant

Asher's One Year Check Up

Asher and Pop

Sitting on the scale

This year has been so full and so busy I can hardly believe my Asher is already One. It has passed so quickly and so slowly. Someone said: The days are long but the years are short. And I can't help but nod my nostalgic agreement with that truth.

When you have a treasured child, a blessing and a bright shining light of youth and newness and exuberance to fill your days, the days take forever to pass - as an adult your energy is substantially less than your child's, a fact that is sometimes painfully apparent as you are running fumes by the end of the day - but the years you share with them speed by before you even realize it.



Waiting for the Dr

Every day with Asher this past year has been long and full and often tiring. But once his first birthday rolled around, I found myself awed at how quickly it seemed to have arrived. After all those long days and often sleepless nights; after the sickness, growth spurts and teething; the laughter and belly flubs and bedtime cuddles, new words and books read together ... he was suddenly One. He was suddenly my Toddler. My little baby boy was transforming second by minute by day. Some mornings he would wake up and I'd walk into his room and see him standing in his crib waiting for me, or sitting and playing with his Cuddly bear and he'd look up and beam and coo and reach for me and I'd realize he looked different. His soft little blue-eyed face had changed overnight.

Those fleeting moments pop up so often as you realize your new baby is a growing, dynamic little person and you can't do anything about it. You love it and it kills you at the same time. It's that mama hurt ... all of a sudden everything hurts just a little bit more, everything means just a little bit more and time passes just a little bit faster.

Before I knew it, I was taking Asher to his one year check up. We had breezed through his newborn appointment, a 2 month appointment when he was sick and I was *that* mom, certain he had something worse than his first of many colds to come; we got through his 3, 6 and 9 month check ups with ease ... he had all his shots and did so well. And then his 12 month check up arrived. He didn't love the shots so much.



Me and my Asher

 Of course he always cried a little whenever he got his shots, but this time it seemed worse. He was NOT pleased and right after that first shot (one of THREE), he started howling. And as a mom, you feel like a jerk holding your child's arms down so they can't get away. Please, just give ME the shots! Poor kid has no idea what the heck is going on and just knows it hurts. He can't know that it hurts my mama heart even more. As soon as the shots were administered I scooped him up and gave him some comfort and cuddles and he calmed down pretty quickly. I'm glad we are done with shots for a while.

Asher's One Year Stats

Height: 32 inches (97th percentile)

Weight: 26 pounds, 6 ounces (95th percentile)

Head Circ: 46 cm (97th percentile)