My boy is 2,000 miles away with a person I don’t trust. Every instinct in my body is screaming “WRONG! THIS IS ALL WRONG!” But it’s a court order. I have no choice. I trudge through two weeks every couple of months like I’m dead. I am not myself when he’s gone. I feel like a shell of a person…I do what I need to do but it’s like autopilot. My heart is gone, my soul in hibernation. The world stops until I get that fuzz head back in my arms after 14 days of agony. We try to keep busy and do fun couple things, but it’s always tainted. There’s a shadow following us, reminding us that the world is not right without a chattering four year old tagging along behind.
This visitation schedules suck. Everything about it sucks. All I can do is drink heavily, snuggle C, and wait for my chance to change this. To fight for my son yet again. Four years and it hasn’t gotten easier. It probably never will. But we cope. We adjust, we survive, we make the best of things. And I buy mass quantities of wine and pay my Netflix subscription and count down the days until the world gets back on its axis.