Lessons-Owen

I hate that with every "crisis" comes lessons.  Or rather, I hate that I have lessons to learn; I think I have learned enough, and we would all be better served if Steve learned his and I could get on with my life, with or without him.  It never works that way.  Instead, while his actions are affecting things in my life, I can either take what is dished out and learn how it applies to me and my life, or I can NOT.  So even though I bitch, sometimes do it kicking and screaming and fighting every step of the way, I still have to deal.  Otherwise, I think the same situation will come back to bite me in the ass later on.

In spewing out my anger with Steve the other night (and I may post about it later, but this isn't about the argument itself, just-you'll see), and receiving a fair share of his in return, what kept coming up is Owen.  Owen this, Owen that, you need to do this/you have never done this/you are a jerk because you did this...and what it all boils down to is, after two years, I am angry.  The anger has been there all along, boiling just under the surface but clearly affecting my life and my relationship on a daily basis.  We are not EVEN going to get into my past history with men who abandon their kids, not right now, even though it sounds like this is more of the same.  Separate issue.  Right now, and for the past two years, I have been letting hurt and anger and resentment build up on a daily basis because this is NOT what I planned, wanted, or hoped for in my life.  I didn't want another baby-for god's sake, Sam had just started all day school!  I was in a fairly okay place financially, I was content with my life the way it was.  I had friends, a social life, a relatively active dating life.  I had been single for over two years and was just beginning to heal from the damage caused by my ex-husband.  Then here comes Steve, and through some foolish choices on both our parts, I got pregnant.  Taken from a completely objective standpoint, it was neither his nor my fault; I was protected, so I thought, and there was no reason why as two consenting adult with a history of friendship shouldn't have sex.

 Knowing it was not a purposeful thing doesn't matter; there is a need in all of us, I think, to blame someone else for things that happen in our lives.  And even though the rational, adult, mature part of me knows that and strives daily (hourly) to take personal responsibility for the choices I make, the small, mean, selfish little girl who still lurks around was busy these last two years, stomping her feet and screaming that life isn't fair and whispering, however quietly her voice, that this was all his fault.  On some level, I listened, and it all came boiling out of me on Saturday night.  I am not proud of the way I handled things, by any means, because I know better than anyone how damaging my words can be.  However, in a sense it was good to get it out.  Good for both of us, actually, in that we both identified that this resentment and anger has been there for both of us all along, and was causing a lot of other problems in the relationship (separate, of course, from Steve's drinking).

I struggled over the weekend about this, remembering some of the things I said and felt on Saturday night, thinking, "How can I look at this baby and say I love him so much when I am obviously not happy about it!  What the hell kind of mother am I?" The conclusion I came to is the Lesson of Owen, so to speak: that however angry and resentful I have been about the circumstances of his conception, it does in no way mitigate the love I have for him. As for what kind of mother I am, well, I am a human mother, with human emotions.  I tell my kids all of the time to "feel what you feel, then move on," and I think it is far past time for me to feel this and move on.  I adore Owen; I would not change his presence in my life for anything in the world, and that doesn't change becasue once I was angry and upset and most assuredly did not want a baby OR a relationship in my life.  It doesn't make me a bad mother, nor a bad person.  My standard phrase, were I forced to pick one, would be "It is what it is, " and that is where I am at today.