I think that this is going to be a stream of consciousness, chaotic post. I'm trying to wrap my head around the way that I'm feeling.
Last night was the first night that my son spent the night under a different roof than me. After three years, two months, and four days of sleeping in the same house as me, the streak has ended. In that three years, two months, and four days, I've missed bedtime a total of three times, one of which was when I was in the hospital after giving birth to my daughter. Actually, I stayed in the hospital the minimum of 24 hours after labor because I wanted to get home to him so badly. I have always taken pride in being there at the beginning and the end of each day of my kids' lives. I had been asking him for several weeks, if not over a month, if he wanted to spend the night at his Dad's house. I won't hesitate to admit that I was relieved every time he answered with a resounding "no." One time, he said that he wanted to but then he woke up the next day and had changed his mind. So when I asked him on Monday, I was a bit surprised when he thought about it and then answered yes excitedly. I was even more surprised when he woke up on Tuesday with the same excitement. At that point, I felt pretty confident that he would, in fact, spend Saturday night (last night) at his Dad's house. I was stressed and anxious all week; I ate horribly the few nights leading up to last night because I am a stress eater. I had honestly just started to think that I had overcome stress eating a few days before all of this. And then the universe showed me that I was wrong.
I was sad and emotional much of the day yesterday. (I also have another family health issue going on and it's been contributing to my emotional state of mind.) I started crying in the car on the way home from a baby birthday party as my one year old daughter slept in the back. But when we got home and she snuggled up to me on the couch for a good long while, I decided that it wasn't so bad. When my son is around, I don't get to snuggle much with my daughter for one reason or another. She clearly missed him at bath time so we called him and, of course, it was comforting to hear his voice and to know that he was having a good time. Every time I went downstairs, I wanted to close the gate at the top of the stairs just in case my son got out of bed, but then I realized that I didn't need to. And the first thing that my daughter did when she got out of bed was walk into his room and look at his bed, confused. It makes me sad to think about that.
Initially when MSTBE and I had discussed allowing the kids to transition to the idea of spending nights in two homes, we said that we would let my son spend one night there for a couple of weeks, and then two nights, and eventually three nights as he was ready for it. It was also going to be a nice transition for me. Well, today when he was laying down for bed he said, "I want to spend the night at Daddy's house now." I suggested that maybe he could spend Wednesday night there instead of waiting all the way until Friday, like we had previously discussed. An hour after falling asleep, he woke up crying and asking to go to his Dad's. When I asked him if he didn't want to spend the night here anymore, he said he wants to do one night here then one night there then one night here and so on. I told him that I would send MSTBE a message and ask if he could spend tomorrow night there.
So this is the beginning of being without my son three nights per week. I need to take a pause to compose myself for a minute.
Yes, I know that this is what's best for him, and if you've read even just a few of my posts, you know that my kids are my world and I put my feelings aside to give them the best in all aspects. But because they are my world, this is hitting me pretty hard.
And yes, I know that this is also good for me because eventually, when my daughter is also spending the night at MSTBE's house, I will be forced to do something more with my life than focus on my kids. I will do things for myself and I will be a better person. I get that. I've thought through that and honestly, realizing that was one of the only things that made me brave enough to get a divorce because I was crippled by the fear of not having my kids around.
But knowing all of the above does not make this adjustment any easier.
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