Sharing is Caring

Dear Jacob,

A week ago, I had to take a class on sharing your children with the other parent when your marriage ends.  It was an informative night, I suppose, but as you can imagine, it was pretty emotionally charged for me, and I had to dampen my emotions with every ounce of my being so I didn't start sobbing like a fool in a court room filled with people.

I listened for nearly two hours to why it's so important for children to have both parents in their lives, from holidays to extracurricular activities to vacations to weekends and so forth and so on. Over and over I listened to kids on a video talk about how their parents management of a divorce or separation affected them negatively, and why it's of the utmost importance for the parents to share the kids, be civil, be fair, and be loving.

There was one statement in the entire two hours that covered the fact that if you just don't have two, one good parent is good.

I sat there, shelled up inside myself, my mind raced with memories of us and our kids, and of our relationship the last year or so.

It reminded me how blindsided I felt when you wanted a break from us. Sure, we had struggles, but we didn't fight and name call and bicker and beat each other, especially in front of the kids. If we did have a fight, it was generally over texts anyway since you wouldn't answer the phone and you were always "at work." Yeah, I can picture a couple we would have in our room while the kids were all sleeping, but for the most part, our time together was civil even if it should have been heated.

So I listened to these children and their stories of how the parents fought in front of them or about them and how wretched it was. And, I felt out of place. And I also felt a bit thankful our kids didn't have that experience.

But more than anything, I sat there wondering why... Why you don't want to share these children with me.

 Why don't you want to have a part of our children's lives?! Why don't you want to call them?! Why don't you want their hugs?! Why don't you want to hear their laughter?! Why don't you miss them?!  

I would give so much to share them with you. I want to share them with you! I want you to pull your head out of your dark place, get some air, and start showing up. I want you to care about their birthdays, their Christmases, their hospitalizations. I want you to want them. And I want to know why it appears that you don't.

What did we do to you? What did the world do to you that makes you run and hide? You do know that we wanted you in their lives. I wanted you in mine. I just wanted you to be accountable and responsible. I wanted to meet your boyfriend instead of you sneaking the kids around him and his family and lying to me about dating him. That was a responsible, adult request.

Instead, you disappeared. You seemingly vanished. It makes no sense to me.

I have always wanted things to be civil and friendly for the kids. I was so furious with you the last day we saw you, July 1, 2015, because you didn't so much as check in when our one-year-old was hospitalized. But I set it aside for the kids. I was smiley and had fun and made memories with you all. Because I am an adult and I know it's important for the kids. I don't need some class to tell me that and beat me down.

I pray you come back. Clearly, something inside of you is broken or ill. I pray for your healing. I want to share these children. That was the plan for LIFE. You're not dead.

Also, I miss you. Even when we were separating you promised me friendship. You were my best friend, for FOURTEEN YEARS. That's almost half our lives. And in those years, we hardly went days without contact. It's been months. I try to be strong always and to move on and let you go and not feel this gaping hole in my life where you used to be, and I try to fill it up with Jesus and surrender it all to Him so He can fill me up, but sometimes, like today, I just miss you with unbridled ache. You were supposed to care about me, too. I miss the man you were when you did, or when you pretended to, or when you loved me. 

Always praying for you,

Nicole