“For what?”
“For not shutting me out completely. For giving me a chance to be her father when you had every right to make this as difficult as possible. You could have demanded supervised visits or used her as leverage or made me suffer the way I made you suffer. And you didn’t.”
I thought about that, about how easy it would have been to let bitterness win. To weaponize our daughter. To make him pay for every hurt and disappointment.
“She deserves to have a father who loves her,” I said simply. “My feelings about you, my anger and hurt, they don’t change what she needs and deserves.”
“Still,” he said. “Thank you.”
After he left, I sat with my daughter, rocking her gently as she fought sleep, her tiny fists clenching and unclenching.
“Your daddy is trying,” I whispered to her, smoothing the soft hair on her head. “I hope he keeps trying. For you. You deserve that.”
What Changed and What Didn’t
Six months after that chaotic hospital room scene that changed everything, my life looked nothing like I’d imagined it would when I first saw those two pink lines on a pregnancy test.
continued on next page
For complete cooking times, go to the next page or click the Open button (>), and don't forget to SHARE with your Facebook friends.
