Tuesday, September 10, 2013
It's Tuesday, confession day. And I've got a load to share. Can you say crap as in baby poop? In July after a major blow-out, my daughter tells me she's pregnant. It's been almost two months since I she dropped that load in my lap and I'm still reeling. Oh, I've put on the brave front ( much better than Dear Daughter
has) and I've run head-on into this night- I mean new adventure with full gusto. I've been reading up on diaper options, mother support groups, housing possibilities and birthing books. I found DD a midwife duo for the birth, and I'm feeding her (because she has yet to fully grasp how important it is that she inhales everything her baby needs).
Still, at times I want to throw my own tantrum, screaming, “I don't wanna do this!” Unlike many women my age, there was no risk of empty-nester syndrome in this house. When DD graduated, I was smiling broadly, thinking just a couple of years of college support and I'm outta here. There's an Airstream waiting for me.
Instead, I'm agonizing over All-In-One or All-In-Two diapers! I'm trying to remain calm and supportive while I explain to my child why two bowls of cereal is not enough food eaten when it's four o'clock in the afternoon. And I'm walking a tight rope not to voice the truth about a father-to-be who is not emotionally and mentally capable of parenting a child. The boy child is carrying a lot of baggage that my daughter's love is not going to wash away clean. Not gonna happen but I can't say that. I didn't listen when I married my hopeless boy love at eighteen. Couldn't tell me he was dysfunctional. My parents were wrong. They didn't know him. They did.
In the meantime, DD is avoiding all male figures out of shame. She's not living with me because she completely nutted up when she blew out of here. She is too proud and full of guilt to admit she was wrong. She's an immature child who can't make amends. I want to shake her sometimes and tell her she has to grow up. It's all about the baby, her feelings be damn. Suck it up and come home.
DH says hang in there. He' says I'm doing a good job and of course we'll help the child. But he boils everytime she comes home. He retreats when he can, and is kind and supportive when he can't avoid her. I get the backlash later: the brooding, the complaining followed by, “It's fine. I'll deal with my feelings. We have to do right by the baby.” Freakin' fantastic. DD does a similar dance when she sees my husband. And her dad, upon hearing the baby news, said uncermoniously that he'd keep her on his insurance but he's raised his kids. Later he asked for his house key back. Assjack.
Well, there you have it, a stinking hot mess. Anybody got a wipe?