It Was Worth It

I was done. I didn’t want any more children, but there you were telling me, six months into our relationship, that you wanted to be a mother.

In hindsight it doesn’t really seem fair. We fell in love before telling me our relationship hinged on me becoming a father again. If I had said no we would have been over.

My children were nearly 10 years old. I didn’t want to start over. I was already looking forward to having two 18-year-olds by age 40 and having plenty of time to do the things I never got to do. You know, like, have a life.

There were many reasons I didn’t want another child, but the main reason was that I was scared. I was scared that we wouldn’t stay together and I’d be a part-time father to another child.

I fell apart when I left the twins’ mother. I mean, completely lost it. I had to take frequent breaks at work to find a place to hide while I bawled my pathetic eyes out. I missed my little boys. It devastated me not to see them every day. It devastated me not to have them run to me when returning from another gruesome day at work. It shattered me not to kiss them goodnight or tuck them into their beds. There were two gaping holes in my heart, and it would take years for those holes to close up.

Of course I knew if we had a child I would love that child unconditionally. There was no question. I was worried about how I would fare if we eventually split. Would I fall apart again? Could I survive with two half-families? Would my low capacity for mental anguish break me? Would I sink into some dismal abyss never to return? Would that be what finally sent me over the edge?

In the end, my desire to make you happy won out. I told you I’d be willing to have a baby with you, but made you promise that no matter what you’d stay with me at least until our child was 18. There’s no way I can lose another baby, I told you.

And so we tried. And tried. And tried. You marked your calendar. We had sex whether we wanted to or not. We abstained, whether we wanted to or not, when the timing wasn’t right. We both got tested. We both got medicated. We saw specialists. I was subjected to some very uncomfortable things in an effort to make you a mommy.

I truly believe the two years we spent trying to get pregnant broke our marriage. We were both mentally and physically spent. We were tired of fighting and intolerant of each other. Everything revolved around creating a small, beautiful life. I finally broke one night after something you did and told you to leave. My anger was completely justified, but I completely overreacted. I spent all weekend trying to convince you to come home, and you finally did. A day later you peed on a stick and got the news you’d been waiting for your entire life.

You were going to be a mommy. And I was going to be a daddy. Again.

It’s been more than five years since that day. On January 18, 2011 you gave birth to a beautiful baby boy, and for the third time in my life I knew love at first sight. I had an unshakable smile on my face that entire day.

Since that day we’ve parted and reunited like Van Halen flip-flopping between Sammy and David. Two years ago we got divorced. We’ve tried two times since then, but neither attempt was long-lived.

Despite all the heartache, bullshit, and drama, I would do it all over again. I would cry every fucking tear all over to get my little boy. I would reopen every scar on my heart to ensure he was in my life. That little boy has brought nothing but smiles, sunshine, and happiness into my life. Yes, I only have him in half of my life, but I’ll take that half over nothing at all. I’ll take half the laughs, half his love, half his time…half everything. I’d rather have that than nothing at all.

My fears turned out to be unfounded. Everything I feared came to fruition, and I wouldn’t change a damned thing. Every obstacle was worth it. Every indignity. Every blow to the heart. Every soul-crushing moment. It was all worth it.

It could be said that you emotionally manipulated me. It was merely the first time. You know what? I don’t even care. I love that child. I love him wholly and unconditionally. I would do anything, anything for him.