I think most parents would agree that the hardest thing we can go through is watch our child be in pain and not be able to do anything about it.
Here at the Mango household, we’ve seen our fair share of this feeling from Little Dude taking a (many) massive tumble and getting banged up, Princess’ horrible asthma/croup episodes and Buddy’s sports and roughhousing miss-haps. There have been many times we have felt helpless to HELP. That the power to make our little ones feel better at the snap of our fingers just doesn’t exist no matter how much we pray for it to.
Well, there is a worse feeling. To know your child is in pain and not be able to see, hold or be there with them through it.
Part of why no matter how craptastic I’ve been feeling the last few days I still had to pull myself together this weekend was because Buddy’s biological father (aka the deadbeat of the last 8 years) was picking him up for a week. After a few months of pretty decent phone contact and a guarantee that THIS TIME things would be different, he was ready to be a parent, he was ready to be responsible and stop hurting his son with all his comings and goings I agreed to him spending some unsupervised time with his ‘other family.’
Last time (just under 6 years ago) when he took Buddy it ended with law enforcement getting involved because he had skipped town from where he was supposed to be, left no contact information on where he was taking MY kid and kept him a week longer than expected before appearing out of nowhere playing the dumb card that he just forgot and didn’t think it would matter.
I have my reasons for already being scared beyond belief about this visitation and the fact that it’s an almost 6 hour drive from here.
This morning while drinking my coffee and getting out some art supplies for the younger two (who need to be kept ever occupied to not miss their big brother) I got a call from Bio Dad. Buddy was having trouble moving his arms and they were taking him in to the ER.
Since that moment, today has been the most chaotic mess of a nightmare any parent could dream of. Phone calls with the hospital staff there to sort out medical information, a boat load of texts for updates on whats happening and how Buddy is doing, all while still trying to keep composure here so as not to worry the little ones here.
Is it wrong to consider packing up, driving all the way there just to make sure he’s taken care of, understood and with his family who have loved him all along?
I think not, but it’s not what I’m going to do…. Yet.
Every fiber of my being wants to rush off to be able to see in person that he’s ok and that he’s able to handle it, but I know for a fact that the doctors have diagnosed and have started treatment and that from what I can tell, it sounds like his other ‘parents’ have his care under control.
I have sole custody, it’s been like that since I left the scumbag that his biological dad was back then behind when he was only a baby so I do have the right. Though if he is indeed on the way to getting better and he is being taken care of by people that care for him and now are trying to be part of his life, could it in the end negatively effect his relationship with them and possibly with me in the future if I intervene?
I don’t know. Maybe.
For now, I sit, I worry, I constantly text my ex for updates on every possible little angle of what is going on.