Grizzly baby, sad mum.

Mum and John have gone up to stay with friends on a canal boat, and Owen and I are on our own for a couple of days. Today has been fine, although Owen has been a bit grizzly at times. It feels a little strange, having the house to ourselves. Owen had his six week check at the doctors this morning at 10am though, so we were up at 7am to get the morning routine out of the way before heading off to the surgery. It was a gorgeous day again today, really spring-like and sunny.

We saw a health visitor first, and Owen got weighed and measured. He is now 11lb 10oz, which is fantastic, he is gigantic! Then we saw the doctor, who asked about Owen’s health and mine, and then unfortunately asked about the father, and I surprised myself by bursting into tears! I was completely unable to speak for a minute or so, and then managed to explain the situation between sobs. I don’t know why I broke down like that – I’ve been asked about the father before and not got emotional, not even felt sad or anything. Maybe I haven’t dealt with this yet, totally. I’ve had a couple of moments today, actually. Maybe I’m due on my period - I haven’t had a period since the birth.

Will I ever be able to completely erase the sadness? I don’t exactly feel sad for myself or for the fact that he walked away from me, I feel sad for Owen. For my son, who won’t have the love of his father. He has cut us off completely, which is quite unusual I think – most fathers do want to have contact with their child, even if they don’t want contact with the mother. Most men feel some kind of emotional attachment to their child. He clearly does not. Why not? Does he not feel even curiosity? I can’t believe that anyone would have no interest at all in their son. When I met him, and in those brief weeks that I knew him, I thought that he was a decent person, a nice person. A warm person. But now I think I was totally taken in by him. He wasn’t interested in me, he never wanted to have a relationship with me. He used me, and then when I fell pregnant he cut me off quicker than you can say big fat positive pregnancy test. I emailed him telling him about Owen’s birth and sent pictures. No response. Is that a nice person, a warm person? I don’t think so.

Well there is one thing I know. It really, truly, is his loss. Every single time I look at my little darling I am amazed at how much I love him, and every day it gets stronger and bigger and better. That’s what he’s missing out on. Unconditional love. Pure love. To go through life never knowing that feeling, that’s his loss.

One day, maybe he will regret this decision. I doubt it, though. Perhaps its best though, for him, if he erases it from his mind. Because to realise too late that you have missed out on such a life-changing, beautiful experience, that must be a terrible, terrible thing.