Exodus 1.1

It was August 2000. My girlfriend and I had been discussing – arguing – adoption. She pretty much said I could parent Sprog if I wanted to, but if I did I would be doing it alone. I wanted my son. But I did not want to lose her and I wanted her to be happy. The world is a miserable place for a guy whose woman is unhappy.

My girlfriend had already placed a baby girl for adoption three years earlier. I was there at the time. I thought it would be the same this time, thought I knew what I was getting into. She contacted her daughter’s parents to ask whether they wanted to extend their family. They were taken aback. They had two adopted children and felt that their family was complete. They asked for some time to consider.

Meanwhile, we started looking at adoptive parent profiles on the internet, just in case they said no. After awhile the profiles all started to meld into one huge mass of self-serving superiority and insincerity. Most of them started “Dear Birthmother” which pissed me off before I even started reading. Oh yeah, I forgot, I was supposed to run away and leave my poor vulnerable girlfriend in this terrible predicament. Damn, I totally forgot to be a complete asshole. Next!

I hated them all. As I read all the wonderful things they could offer my child, I was thinking “So can I” or “But he doesn’t need that”. I started to slip into hopelessness. Insomnia set in as I spent nights questioning our decision. My days were consequently spent in a zombie state and my work was becoming the haphazard doodling of semi-consciousness. I started taking amphetamines and then methamphetamines to balance myself out. I would stay awake for days at a time, then crash all weekend. My girlfriend expressed her worry, so I would pretend to sleep until she fell asleep, and then I would get up again and fiddle with inconsequential side projects all night.

Depression began to weigh on me. I had always been one of those people who is described as “never serious” but suddenly everything was deadly serious. I started using cocaine once or twice a week, where before it had been an extremely rare occurence at parties only. I had season tickets to the Celtics that year and I would snort at the games so that I could enjoy myself. Everything became lackluster without it, so I started using more.

Eventually, Sprog’s parents-to-be contacted us to confirm that he would be joining their family. This made my girlfriend happy. She wanted her babies to be together. If she was happy, then I was happy.

I was riding billowy clouds of happiness that concealed Mount Doom.

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2 Responses to “Exodus 1.1”

  1. ((Brad))

    We can be foolish women sometimes. We hope that when we aren’t strong enough, that someone will save us. But then we realize far too late, the only one who can save us are ourselves. But then we realize too, that we weren’t strong enough to do it alone. I’m sorry you hurt so much.

  2. harlowmonkey Says:

    I am so glad I found your blog – it is really great to hear from a b-father. Thanks for sharing with us.

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