Trials and Tribblations.

Today is one of the worst days I’ve had since Conner was born. My son is is back in the Hospital, for the second time since Thanksgiving. Only this time I’m unable to be there with him. I’ve got a virus of my own and it would be terribly irresponsible for me to put my desire to be near him as he struggles, above the fact that I could just make it worse by being there. Which leads me to what I want to type about…

In my life I’ve been through some stuff, but none of them have really stuck in my craw like this. My genetic father was never, ever there for me. After my folks divorced, I saw him maybe three times during the rest of my childhood. Many years later, I made an effort to reconnect with him down in Florida, but that too lead to some disappointment. His new wife (at the time) decided to cut out communication, because I represented yet another potential inheritor. For this reason, until my Mom found and married Jim, I spent most of my life without an every day father figure. I had some great examples of what a Father should be; Uncle John, Uncle Ronnie, Uncle Tom, and my Pop. But I didn’t have one, per say, in my life on any sort of day to day basis. What I did have was an example of the greatest thing in the world -not- to be.

When Michele and I decided to have children the first thing we did was talk about this. All of this. I wanted Michele to be able to stay home, if that’s also what she wanted, so I knew that I’d need to be gone for work. Except that I also didn’t want to be an absentee Father. I’ve made a lot of effort to keep this very first promise I made to Conner. Even at the cost of a promotion or a raise here and there.

Which is why this has hit me so hard. I’m miserable, but not because of the bronchitis that I’m battling. I’m miserable in a very tangible, but soulful, way that is gnawing at me. I want to be there. Even if I know that we can’t do anything. I want to be with Conner, even if it’s just so that he can see me when he wakes. I want him to know that I was there, protecting him. Though I know, I’m protecting him by not being there introducing another virus in to his fragile world. I’m lucky, in that the person I trust most in this world is Michele and I know she’s there with him. I just feel completely helpless about it all, but then factoring in not being there for him. Ugh.

No, that’s not a typo. One of Conner’s favorite bedtime stories is a goldie book by the same name.