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My mom knows me too well

June 28, 2006

I’m sure that some day, I will experience the mother’s telepathy that my mom is notoriously good at. Usually, it’s her uncovering something that I wouldn’t dare want her to find out, but on occasion, she surprises me like she did the other night.

The battery in her car died (she had left the overhead light on by mistake the other day), so as we waited for it to be charged, we dropped into a Chinese restaurant and had dinner. Over a course of pork spareribs and wonton soup, she asks out of the blue if I’ve told Kevin that I had the baby. It was kind of weird that she asked, since I never talk about him to anyone anymore. It was like she knew that he’s been on my mind constantly since our fight in October. I told her no, but that I had sent him an e-mail and told him that I was pregnant and never heard from him, but that I figured it was because he deleted it when he saw my name. I still believe that there’s no way he wouldn’t have responded had he actually read it.

I also admitted to her that I sent him a letter last week. I had written it one of my anxiously impatient sleepless nights shortly before I had the baby and mailed it the afternoon I went into labor. Unlike the stack of letters I’ve written over the past few months and never sent, this one I simply said what I had to say and left it at that. I stuck it in the mailbox before I lost the nerve to do it, as I have so many times before.

She asked if I thought that he would respond at all, and I simply said that I was sure he would throw it away without reading it, and if he did read it, I would never know. She never said as much, but she gave me a look that said she knew how heartbroken I was that he is not a part of my life anymore. And not to the degree that some other people have, not knowing how deep my feelings for him go, but one of a mother that just knows. I found it comfortably weird that she asked me that when I have never admitted my true feelings for him to her. Then she asked something I didn’t expect — she wanted to know if it was possible that he was the father of my child, and all I could say was, “god, I wish.” Which I suppose sounds kind of crazy, but then at least I would know that my child was conceived out of love, not from a strange relationship as yet to be defined. Anyway.

Since that night last year that I finally admitted to him how I felt, I’ve struggled to cope with my emotions and get over the fact that he never felt as deeply for me as I did for him. And since October, I keep kicking myself for letting myself turn into an irrational hysteric instead of waiting for a good time to communicate my frustration with him in a civil manner. Perhaps we would still be talking if I had; he more than likely would have been there with me last week. But all of that is just wishful thinking on my part, and I doubt that I’ll ever hear from him again, not even a small note to congratulate me.

It makes me sad that it has to be that way, because I know that he would be happy for me, despite everything. And I really wish that he would want to get to know my daughter, because I know that he would love her just as much as he loves his little nieces.

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