Happy Birthday Keegan

Dear Keegan,
Tomorrow is your birthday. You will be seventeen. And it has been almost three years since I've seen you.

When I was last with you we still lived at our home of nearly twelve years. It was Tanith's birthday the next day. I was getting ready for her party. She was going to have a slumber party with eight girls. Your dad was gone. I had asked him to move out and had already filed for divorce. What a horrible, painful time that was. For you kids I'm sure it was excruciating. I had a panacea already--a boyfriend to ease my pain. I chose to tell you and your brother and sister I had a boyfriend. Looking back, of course, everything I did was all wrong.

Your father has been so bitter toward me. I was so angry at him. I'm sure he was hurt, and so was I. Now that time has gone by I remember more of the good things he did, and his good qualities. How he liked to go on outings as a family, how we went to Oregon every summer driving up in the Suburban and stayed with my sister, your aunt Lisa, and his dad, your grandpa. I remember how he took care of everything with the Suburban, getting it ready, new tires, tune up, getting a VCR player put in so you kids could watch movies on the trip up.

And your dad got the Suburban for me because I said I needed three rows of seats for you and your brother and sister: one row for each of you. Once your sister was old enough to pester you, you fought like wild cats when you were in the car. Your dad agreed that separating each of you would be a good solution for the arguing that went on anytime we went somewhere as a family. One afternoon he came home driving a shiny new Suburban.

You will be seventeen, tomorrow, June seventh. When you were born all the nurses came in to look at you because of your astonishing hair. It was black at the base, red in the middle, and white blond at the tips. Your dad called you "Flame Tipper." The nurses had never seen anything like it. And you had so much hair. You were the biggest of my babies, nine pounds. And happy. My Keegie-love, I called you.

I meant to write about you--because it will be your birthday. You have been so angry at me, too. Not that this is new. You became a hostile child, teenager. And I suppose the fact of you being your father's and my child that should come as no surprise to me. Your father and I were moody rebellious teenagers.

I know you are in a band and play guitar. You are so tall and skinny now. And handsome. You have your dad's gorgeous jaw line. I see videos of you in your band on YouTube. I know too, that you have played with bands I idolized as a teenager. I'm pretty sure you have no idea I know any of these things, and I know you have no idea how proud I am of you. And how in awe.

It will be your birthday. I was blessed to help bring you into the world. You have been a gift to me. Happy Birthday.

To My Children

I never thought I'd have to write you. I never thought you'd be gone. Not like this.

I've missed each of you more than I knew it was possible to miss anyone. The hardest thing is feeling you are angry with me, that I have wronged you and I am to blame for this. Although a larger part of me feels you have been caught in a horrible (for lack of a beeter word) argument betwween your dad and I. You have been triangulated. I keep trying to make sense of it all.

You have been so angry and hurt by my actions. More than anything though, I feel you have been used by your dad to get back at me. And for that I am sorry. I think over and over what could I have done so this wouldn't have happened. But it did happen. It is happenning. It is.

I miss you all so much. I have wanted to die, literally, from the pain, many many times. But you are what keeps me alive. I couldn't do that to you. Whether I am in your lives or not. I could not add that to what you have had to deal with.

I still hear each of your voices calling, "Mom", "Mamma", "Mom!" They are your voices as they were, not as they are today.

The situation is. Sometimes I briefly wonder, what if I didn't marry your father? But I knew in my heart it was the right thing to do. And I am so happy I was priveledged to help bring each of ou into the world. Being your mother gave me more joy and love than I ever imagined was possible.

I have fought and fought to see you, talk to you, try to get back in your lives since each of you moved in with your father. I don't blame you. I am sure you are doing the best you can. In writing this I am not trying to condescend to you or imagine in any way I know what is in your minds.

It has been three years since I have seen you. I keep hoping you will be in my life again, I will be in yours. When I think of you I am devastated, my heart hurts. I have been powerless to protect you from pain, and that is all I have wanted to do as your mother--comfort, protect, love and care for you. When you were small and you cried I could pick you up, and comfort you and stop your cries. Now I cannot.