The Family Day

I read somewhere that one of the surprising joys of parenthood is realizing just how much more you could love your husband when you see how much he loves your child.

No one writes about what it’s like to see how much your ex-husband loves your child…maybe because no one can ever really prepare you for the raw, blinding nostalgic pain it brings.

Kiddo’s school recently had a Family Day which, as with all events that involve Kiddo, her Father and I both attended. It’s all part of our unspoken agreement to continue playing an active role in Kiddo’s life, so that apart from the glaring fact that we don’t live under one roof, Kiddo will not feel the absence of either parent. We’re there for her as her Mom and Dad, but there’s always one of us who ends up a bystander, watching from the sidelines and that Family Day was no different

Family Day…Family for a Day was more like it.

She stayed with him most of the time and I watched them from a comfortable distance. He stroked her hair as she sat on his lap, and Kiddo would look up at him with adoring eyes.

They joined the triathlon they’d spent weeks practicing for, and I rooted for them from the sidelines. I tried to ignore that it was a game designed for a family trio, as I seemed to be the only mother who busied herself with the videocam as her brood raced against the other teams. They won first place and I cheered as loud as I could. I was so proud. We congratulated Kiddo and praised her for a job well done. We stopped short after each giving her a kiss. The intensely emotional, triumphant moment suddenly became an awkward one.

I found myself wanting to say thank you for continuing to love and support my daughter despite everything. Instead, I muttered a ‘thank you’ for supporting my decision to transfer Kiddo to her new school despite the price differential.

I can not begin to tell you how hard it is to be so close – but only physically - during such tender moments. Being on guard so as not to let vulnerability set in, is exhausting. Outwardly, I am unaffected. I am stoic and strong. When really, I’m just a jumble of emotions.

Questions that I so carefully, so deliberately chose not to ask started racing through my head. I wanted to ask why we could love our daughter so much and not love each other; how we could be so good to Kiddo, but not to each other. I wanted to know why the 7 years between us, so long cast aside, and only acknowledged during these “Family for a Day” events could still re-open old wounds; why our joint presence was equal to getting a glimpse of what our life would have been like if we had chosen to stay together. And the question that really shook me to the core - would we have tried harder if we had foreseen moments like this when it would have been nice to really be a family? I was angry at myself for not letting the years that had gone by make it any easier.

I’ve been asked why I still invite Kiddo’s Father to such events since he has always made it clear that his presence is my prerogative. Admittedly, I could chose to not put myself through this turmoil which brings me to the brink of losing the sanity that I tried so hard to re-build. It would be easier not to have him there -- easier for me. And it’s just not about me anymore. It’s not about us. It’s about Kiddo, whom we love very much and whose life we want very much to be part of. It’s about Kiddo’s right to have both parents share in her life. We still respect each other enough to put aside the past and take part of her present.

One of Kiddo’s teachers was wearing a shirt with a definition of “family” printed on it. Her shirt read that "a family is a group of people who love and care for each other". I noted that the definition of a family didn’t specifically require the presence of a mother and father.

Kiddo’s Father and I have a lifetime of “joint events’ like this ahead of us and I’m sure that it won’t always be like this. At some point, one of us may be starting a new life with someone else, and Kiddo will find herself part of a bigger family. When or if that time comes, I hope that Kiddo will spare herself the angry questions and instead find an answer in the simple definition of a family as a group of people who love each other. May any doubts she may have, be laid to rest with the knowledge that as long as her Father and I love her and continue to be part of her life, she will always have a family.