Why I'm allowed to be angry, AND thankful.

When I found out I was pregnant, I was terrified. But you, you were a coward. It took next to no time for you decide you wanted nothing to do with me and our child. The chilling words you spoke those first few weeks will always fill me with disgust. And the silence that followed will always remind me of a black hole. I still haven't decided which was worse; the insults to our unborn daughter, or you ignoring every attempt I made to keep you involved. Those 9 months were some of the hardest I've ever had. But the overwhelming love I felt overpowered all my fear, all my bitterness, and all my rage. I was able to prepare for what I had come to think of as MY CHILD, and experience all the bliss that is pregnancy. Even though I felt alone, I knew I wasn't. The day Lily was born, and they wheeled me to recovery, you were the first person I told. I don't know why I felt that need, but I wanted to share the joy I felt with someone, with anyone, and I chose you. It didn't matter that only 2 days earlier you told me you hated me. It didn't matter that earlier that morning you told me you were happier without me. Our daughter was born, and she was a spitting image of you, and I just wanted you to know. When you showed up at the hospital, I wanted to be glad. I wanted to cherish the moment you met her, but instead I found myself boiling with resentment. You didn't deserve to meet her. You didn't deserve to know that kind of love. I regretted ever telling you she was born. Only a few weeks later I asked you when you would have contacted me to see if she was born yet, and you said "I don't know, sometime in May maybe?" She was born April 12. She would have been a month or older by the time we heard from you, by the time you met her, and I hated you for that answer. But I hated myself more because I gave you a gift you weren't worthy of. I've felt those same emotions a lot over the last 2 years.

I often wonder if I never set out for custody, where we would be. How many months would pass before we heard from you again? How much more would you have missed? You were absent for the first 9 months of her life. You missed the colic, the sleepless nights, the first smiles, the first laughs, the doctors appointments, the growing, the changing, the love. And even after our court hearing, you missed her learning to crawl, learning to walk, and her first words. Her whole life has passed by and you've been apart of none of it. There's no happy pictures of the two of you smiling. There's no pictures of the 3 of us, enjoying her presence. For 6 hours a month you are around. No more, sometimes less. Everything she knows, she knows because of me. She craves me when she wakes up, and when she wants a hug. She misses me when I go to the bathroom, or run an errand without her. She asks for me when she has a boo-boo, or when she wants a drink. I'm the only true constant she knows. But she doesn't hate you either. For those 6 hours, even if she's uncomfortable, she still plays and tries to be apart of your world. She wants to know you. She wants your acceptance, and your love. She doesn't know any better. She doesn't know the things you've said and done. She doesn't know the pain or the hurt you've caused. And I won't be the one to tell her. I want her to learn for herself. And when she does, I will still be the one she asks for. Someday she'll be curious, and I'll have all the answers she wants. I'll have the memories, the pictures, the baby books. And all you'll have is your hatred for me.

After all this time, I'm still a little angry. Not because you left me. Not because you hate me. I'm angry because you don't deserve what you have. You don't deserve to know the beauty that is our daughter. You don't deserve to feel her warm hugs, or hear her tiny voice. You don't deserve to look into her baby blue eyes. You don't deserve to tell her you love her. YOU ABANDONED HER not that long ago. You said cruel words, and lived your life like she wasn't about to be born. You denied her when she was finally here, and claimed she wasn't yours. You missed every milestone. You missed every good and bad day. You missed watching her grow. You missed being an influence. I'm angry because you don't take parenting seriously. You don't worry about allergies, teething, or germs. You're not concerned about rashes, or mean kids on the playground. You don't know what it's like to be exhausted, but still care for another person. You don't pay for diapers with pennies, and worry about how much food is left in the house. To you, everything is a trophy. You want everyone to see how great your child is, but you don't even know that yourself. You take credit for new words, new actions, and new days, but you've done nothing to get her here. I'm angry because even after everything, you still don't give me any credit. You still act like I'm a burden, like I'm a bad mother, like you hate me. You still tell everyone I am a greedy bitch, but don't mention that you actually owe money and I say nothing about it. You wouldn't hesitate to talk about how I'm abusing the system, but you fail to say that you don't help provide for anything.

I'm allowed to be angry because I've raised our daughter from a tiny baby, into a beautiful toddler. She is smart, funny, and kind. She has manners, she is caring, and she is so full of life. She wants for nothing, and knows that no matter what mommy will fix it. And you? You're just a face she sees every now and then. She points to random guys at the store and calls them dad, just because they have a beard. I'm angry, because she doesn't know what the word 'dad' really means. And she doesn't know that because you've never given it a meaning, you've just taken the credit. But even though I'm angry, I don't hate you.

You've given me the greatest gift I could ever ask for. Our child has given me love, happiness, and strength. I wouldn't have any of it without you. But I also know that she will change the world someday, and she'll do it without you. You won't be the one she tells all her secrets too. You won't be the one she calls when she gets her heartbroken. And you won't be the person she thanks when she's valedictorian of her graduating class. So for now, I'll bury my anger deep inside. I'll still feel it, but I won't let it show. I'll enjoy her childhood, and her life. I'll cherish every second of everyday, and make sure she always knows how much I love her. I know these days are fleeting, and the memories precious. I'll be thankful that she's mine. I'll be thankful for all the reasons she's given me to love not only myself, but my life. And I'll be thankful for you, because you paved the road that brought me to her.

It's okay if you don't always like being a mom.

I'm constantly surrounded by people telling me "you'll miss this someday", and "enjoy it while you can". So when I speak up and say, I'm counting down the hours until bedtime, I sound ungrateful that I get to be home with my child. When I say I can't take it anymore, I sound like an awful mother. But I've got a toddler who missed her nap, toys to pick up, milk to refill, crumbs to vacuum, dinner to make, and my sanity to find. It's 3pm and my kid is screaming bloody murder and I've still got at least 5 hours until bedtime. I'm running solely on adrenaline and caffeine, and it's been over 12 hours since my last real meal. So excuse me if right now I'm not "enjoying" motherhood. And I'm sorry, but I find it hard to believe I'll ever miss the high pitched scream coming out of my daughters mouth, and her throwing herself on the ground in a fit of rage. I'm not ungrateful, I'm human. And I'm not a bad mother because I don't like my child all the time, all that matters is that I love her all the time. Would you like someone who never let you eat, sit down, finish a sentence, or sleep? No.

Motherhood is anything but glorious. I spent the first year of my daughters life covered in vomit and other bodily fluids. And then I've spent the second year of her life watching her freak out because WHO THE HELL KNOWS?! I can't even tell you any current events going on. If Doc isn't fixing it, Cedric isn't plotting it, and the Bubble Guppies aren't singing about it, I have no idea what you're speaking about. I can recite every line in Frozen, and I know more about Arrendele than I do about the United States. I spend my whole day questioning the validity of Doc McStuffins' degree, and thinking that the little stuffed lamb is a little bit of a hussy. I probably have poop under my fingernail, and I couldn't tell you the last time I washed my hair. My wardrobe consists of leggings and big t-shirts. My child is just going to spill milk on me later anyway, or I'm going to use my shirt to wipe a runny nose, so what's the point of wearing anything else? I never have any "me" time, and a hot meal is a delicacy. I can't enjoy every single second of motherhood because I'm too busy putting ice in a sippy cup for the 85th time today, and I really have to pee.

I'm not a horrible mother, but I've found it's normal to want to punch your kid in the face sometimes. You don't actually do it, but you think to yourself that you'd like too. I've learned it's normal to go hide in the bathroom and pretend to be pooping, just so you can have 10 minutes of silence. I'm also guilty of going into a separate room to eat, just so I don't have to share. I rarely go longer than a day without asking myself why I thought having a kid was a good idea. On the hard days, I have to be honest -- with myself, and with others. And I shouldn't be criticized for being human. I love my child. She is the best thing to ever happen to me. But sometimes she's like a tiny tornado, wreaking havoc on my day, and destroying my sanity one minute at a time. Sometimes, I really just want to hang a sign on my head that says, "stepped out to 'anywhere but here', will return after bedtime".

So, in these moments, instead of telling me that I'll miss this someday, tell me that I'm doing great, because that's what I really need to hear. And I know how quickly kids grow because the last 2 years have flown by, but I don't need to be reminded of that, I need you to tell me it's okay. Motherhood is lonely, and telling me to "enjoy every second" makes me feel like I'm the only mother who's ever wanted their kid to just go away. I am grateful, and I know how lucky I am. But only in books and movies do fairy tales exist. In real life, not everyday is easy. And just like with almost everything else in life, sometimes being a mom is stressful, and sometimes I really don't enjoy it. But a bad day, doesn't make me a bad mom. I don't always have to like being a mom to love my child. I love my daughter indefinitely. I'm no stranger to the overwhelming joy that motherhood can bring, but I'm also aware of the alienating feelings it can cause. It's normal to both love and hate being a mom. So stop telling me to "enjoy every minute", because although I'm not enjoying this very minute, it doesn't mean I'm not enjoying being a mother.