She makes another note. “So when you miscarried, did you feel like you let him down too?”
My throat closes and I have to clear it before I can answer. “Yeah, I felt like I let the world down. My sister-in-law found out she was pregnant a little after me.”
“Did she carry to term?”
“Yeah.”
This is a little all over the place and I don’t know whether I’m coming or going, but I feel like I might be getting somewhere when she asks the next question.
“Are you jealous of her?”
“I’ve thought so many times that I am, and then I feel ashamed. So I turn my anger and frustration to myself. It doesn’t help that I work with her, she’s my boss at my day job. Although I’m not sure whether I have a job to go back to. I haven’t done any work in months. I feel like when I’m there, I have to overcompensate. So when I’d get home, everything would crash down and I was reminded that I don’t have this baby. I asked Dalton to leave, so I wouldn’t have him to talk to. The only one who was there was Walker.”
“Did you talk to him?”
“I yelled at him.” I let the tears fall. “Over stupid shit that normally wouldn’t bother me, but it was a release. Something to make me feel, even if I felt horrible – both while I was doing it and afterward - for yelling at him. I’ve done things with him around that I shouldn’t have. He’s seen me drunk, he’s seen me line up pills, and he’s seen me go through life with no regard for my or his safety. I’m a better mother than that, but I’ve treated him like he’s disposable, and I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to properly apologize for that.”
“Then that’s what we need to work on, Mandy. You’d be surprised by children, they’re very resilient. Think about yourself as a child. You were able to forgive your mom for things a lot of other grownups wouldn’t be able to, and somehow you knew all she wanted to do was look after her kids. Walker loves you, and I’m sure he just wants to know that you’re okay.”
“I wrote Dalton a letter,” I spit out quickly. “The other night, I was feeling lonely and didn’t have anything else to do. Maybe that’s what I should do for Walker.”
“I’m sure he would appreciate it. You should get phone privileges very soon, but something tangible will definitely let him feel the depth of your sorrow and just how sorry you are. Kids don’t expect us to be perfect, but they do expect us to be able to own up to our mistakes.”
What she says makes a lot of sense, but there’s also still the chance he could reject me, and rejection right now? It would set me back. Then again, I have to remember I’ve basically rejected him for months and just expected him to live with the decisions I’ve made without explanation. He deserves to know how much I love him, how happy he makes me, and how much he filled a hole in my heart.
I play with a piece of thread on my jeans, picking at it until it unravels. I wish I had scissors to cut it off, but they aren’t allowed in here. At least not where I am. “I have so many mistakes to own up to.”
“One at a time,” she reminds me. “Just like you’re going to take this one day at a time. No reason to overwhelm yourself and get set up for failure. The people who love you and want you in their lives will be okay with it. Those who don’t, maybe aren’t as important as you thought they were.”
Her words tumble around in my head like clothes in a dryer. I don’t want any more loss in my life, and I’m unsure if I’ll be okay with losing anyone else. The timer signaling the end of our session goes off.
“Write the letter, and see how you feel about it. You don’t have to mail it.” She offers me an out, knowing sometimes I need one.
Decisions are important to me, not because I love to make them, but because I’ve figured out since I’ve been in here, I hate to be told what to do. This has to be something I want to do.
“Thanks, I’ll think about it.”
As I leave this session, I know I do have to mail it, I know I owe it to Walker to show him I’m thinking about him, and just how sorry I am that all of this happened.
The paper is spread out before me, my favorite pen in my hand. I’ve spent almost an hour staring at the blank pages. I’m not sure how to start this. Unlike Dalton’s, which practically spilled from me, I’m worried about Walker’s. Unsure if he’ll ever see me as a mom again, not even sure whether he likes me as a person anymore.
Knowing the things I made him see sickens me.
It makes me wonder about my real father. Did he care when he left Mom? Knowing she was pregnant, he still left her. Did he have emotional issues like I do? Maybe he just couldn’t deal with everything that happened in such a short amount of time.
The pen in my hand goes around and around in a circle as I twirl it, my mind spinning with the same intensity. Try as I might, I can’t believe that someone would leave the woman who was going to have his child and be okay with it. With any of it. Leaving the woman, leaving his own children. He never stuck around long enough
