Today has been a doozy.
I left Portland at 7am and flew across the country to Nashville to pick up my Baby Bee, finally, after his 16 day visitation. Upon landing, I’m informed that the Drone will not relenquish Baby Bee until 7:30 that night….an hour after my returning flight (and the last flight of the night) leaves. He had been threatening this all weekend and I half expected him to just give me shit but show up last minute; but also half expected him to follow through and make me miss my flight. And another full day of work. Which he did. So I had to go up to the ticket counter and explain my situation, and get our flights changed. I was in tears out of anger, exhaustion and frustration that I was draining my bank account all because of his pettiness. The sweet ticket agent, Peggy, started crying right along with me and went to get her supervisor. He came back and comp’d the $600 that it would have cost me to change our flights. I started crying again, thanked them profusely and went to find a bar. After a glass of wine, a salad and some good local music I felt a little better. I took a shuttle to the hotel room my dad procured for me and stared mindlessly at the football game. I was too exhausted to be angry anymore. Too stunned by his need to be an absolute dickhead at every turn to have any emotion.
At 7:30 I went down to the lobby and saw the Drone’s car pull up. As soon as Baby Bee saw me he started screeching and flailing around in his car seat. He bolted and jumped into my arms, then wiggled down to grab his suitcases. I said maybe two words to the Drone and his family, gathered Baby Bee and walked away. He chatted me all the way up to our room, obviously excited. But as the night wore on I could tell it was going to be a rough adjustment after all. The littlest direction or gentle demand sent my boy over the edge; collapsing onto the floor with wails or screams of anger. He’d do something I told him not to do, while looking at me with mischievous eyes and a set jaw. Testing….testing…. He’d hug my legs if I tried to get up and walk a step away from him, but then said repeatedly he didn’t want to get on an airplane tomorrow. At bedtime he called C and Nana as usual, then cried and cried for daddy until I soothed him to sleep.
Now with this tiny tortured soul sleeping peacefully next to me, I am RAGING. I feel every injustice we have suffered at the hands of a narcissistic control-freak in the past 5 years. I feel all of Baby Bee’s confusion and hurt and loneliness that he doesn’t know how to express. I feel MY anger and hurt for having to be the “bad” parent while the Drone is a Disneyland Dad a few weeks out of the year. I feel C’s rage and frustration for being so far away and not being able to take care of business. But most of all I feel weary. I am exhausted from battle…I have what the Greeks called the “thousand year stare”….nothing shocks me anymore, I’ve come to expect the worst out of every interaction with him. But I can’t give up. Throwing in the towel is NOT an option when it comes to my child. I will fight that monster in and out of court until my dying breathe to protect Baby Bee, to give him the life he deserves: happy, stable, full of potential and love. Free of manipulation, lies and uncertainty.
So I shake off the mess of today, and board yet another plane tomorrow with my head held high, my shoulders squared and a fire in my belly. I am tired of fighting, but I won’t stop until he does. I will not quit until the courts actually protect my child and not our abuser.