So Long, Farewell

Today my son’s sperm donor, err, father is moving out of state.  He didn’t give a forwarding address, and for some really childish reasons wouldn’t even say where he was going other than to say “south,” or “somewhere in the Carolinas.”  That might have bothered other mothers in the same situation, but not me.  I say good riddance, and don’t let the proverbial door hit you in the ass on the way out – or better yet, let it hit you. I really don’t care one way or the other.

He hasn’t had a relationship with my son in years, and to be honest, my son does not miss him – or ever mention him, so I never really think about him.  And we’re okay with that.  He went from February of this year to July without a single word from him – and he lived right around the corner.  Yes, you read that correctly – right around the corner.  He never wished him a Merry Christmas or Happy New Year.  He’s been to only one of my son’s baseball games in the last 3 or 4 years, and that was only to borrow money (which he never repaid). And today I see that he's even deleted my son from his Facebook friends. Truly amazing.

I’m sure he blames me for their lack of a relationship, as he has a habit of blaming all of his problems on other people, but I will not take it.  It was, and is not my responsibility to maintain their relationship.  I can count on a single hand the number of times he’s called to inquire as to our son’s well-being or to speak to him directly.  He likes to use the excuse “the phone works both ways,” well in our case it really doesn’t.  Our son doesn’t know how to use the phone, and he surely knows that – therefore making it my fault somehow of course.  If he wanted a relationship with our son, he would have called.  On the rare occasions that he did call, I never refused the interaction.  If I missed the call, I called back.  On the even rarer occasions that he wanted to spend time with our son, I allowed it – sometimes even forcing my son to go when he didn’t want to.  Full access was always available, but never taken advantage of.  I never even spoke badly of him in front of my son either, unlike him, I’m sure.  Common courtesy was always given.  And yet, in his delusional eyes – I’m the horrible one.

You know what? I’m fine with that.

I know I have done nothing wrong, and I get the joy of spending all the time with our son – who is amazing by the way – without having to share it with him.  When he’s sick or hurt, he knows I will be there to comfort him.  When he does something great and wants to share, he seeks me out to tell it to.  I find great solace in that.  We are a team, my son and I, we’ve been through a lot of heartache and a lot of joy together, and I wouldn’t give that up for the world.  My friends even know, if you invite me to something – he’s coming too; we are a package deal.  His father will never know that joy.  Do I feel sorry for him?  Hell no.  He’s a grown man who had his chance to do the right thing, and he instead chose to be petty, and use me as his scapegoat for not having a relationship with his own son.  Who I feel sorry for is my son, who will apparently never know what a real father is like.  My disappointment in that fact can be overwhelming at times – that I made such a horrible choice in partners so long ago, that now my son has to pay for it.

The time has come for me to let that disappointment and regret go.  So to my son’s sperm donor I say:

So long, farewell
Auf Wiedersehen, adieu
Adieu, adieu
To you and you and you