I Can’t Stay Mad at You
My birth father doesn’t know about the Wee One. At least, I didn’t tell him, though in these days of internet, he may know. His first grandchild, and he doesn’t know – we haven’t talked in 14 years. In the past, the few times we did talk, I was resentful of him and the years of abuse, but I was also hopeful for reconciliation. Then, when his current wife was reaching out to me, (a really fucking interesting series of conversations there),
Then, when his current wife was reaching out to me, (a really fucking interesting series of conversations there), I stressed how much he had hurt me and how much safer I felt without him in my life. Yet I wanted him to want to be there. I still made sure to tell her I was going to the university where he had gone, he would be impressed and proud. I desperately hoped it would make me acceptable in his eyes and he would want me and want to be in my life.
When I had my Wee One, I thought about telling him, or his wife. Yet as I considered it, I remembered a piece of scripture that hadn’t meant much to me before:
Do not give what is holy to the dogs; nor cast your pearls before swine, lest they trample them under their feet, and turn and tear you in pieces.
My daughter is my great pearl, my treasured jewel. Trying to include my birth father in her life, offering her up for his acceptance the way I had offered up parts of myself in years past, is casting my greatest pearl before swine. He never did anything but “trample under his feet” what I offered him.
So have I forgotten? No way. Have I forgiven? I hope so. I want to. I think I have a greater level of acceptance where he is concerned, and I hope that helps me in this.