|"Please, I don't want you to see me like this..."|
In life, we all suffer through our fair share of rejection. Me, I've been struggling with it my whole life. There was the time I tried out for the school play in grade nine ("Um, Mr. Dolgin, we don't think your rendition of Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star is cutting it, so we ask that you leave the stage...Now!"). There was the time I ran for class president ("I was just trying to say we should serve healthier eggs in the cafeteria, I didn't mean you should throw them at me"). And there was the girl that got away... in grades nine, ten, eleven, and twelve (same girl, just didn't want to be a quitter). So, if you think about it, I should be used to rejection by now- I've been kicked out by ex-girlfriends, been bitten by my own dog, and even my own mother left the country to get away from me. But I've taken the pain, pushed it deep down inside and carried on with my life. But not this time! This time it's really personal...
For the last few weeks, I've noticed that my daughter has slowly started to distance herself from me. It really started at breakfast the other day when she ignored me while watching cartoons. Then it happened again when I went in to hug her when I dropped her off at daycare, and she offered me a handshake. I keep trying to get close to her, but she keeps giving me the cold shoulder, going as far as asking my wife to tell me to leave her alone. I ask her if anything is wrong, and she says "no." I ask her for a kiss and she says "no." I ask her if I can take her to bed and again she says "no." And why? "Because I want Mommy to do it" she says.
We used to be so close, you and I. We would play on the swings together. We would go for long walks. I even let you pick the movies we watch, but now every time that I turn around there you are, in another's arms, laughing, talking, sharing the way we used to. I don't know what I did? I don't now what I said? I just came home one day and you changed. I'm still the same, but you've changed. Your clothes are different. Your hair is different. Even your socks are different (size 12 to 24, I think). Yeah, I know you're only eighteen-months-old, but I see it, why can't you??? We've grown a part... I'm no longer the number one person in your life, and it's killing me... Why??? I thought you were a daddy's girl! F--k Mommy (not to be taken out of context), she makes you eat all your vegetables and burns Kraft dinner. What's she got that I don't (besides breasts, a vagina, and, well, rhythm)?
Fine. I'm alright. I know I can't change your mind. I know you've asked me repeatedly to leave you alone, so I will. Maybe in time things will change, but who knows? All I know is this: Mommyitis isn't your fault, it's just how you feel, but I just want my baby back... I don't want to see you cry anymore. It just hurts too damn much.
It's too hard to talk, so I'll just say my final peace (sniffle) in song...
I just wanted to be loved, dammit!
UNDERSTANDING MOMMYITIS AND WHAT YOU CAN DO ABOUT IT(click)
Disclaimer: This has been a dramatization. Yes, it was over the top, but it does convey the inner turmoil every dad feels when faced with the horrors of Mommyitis. Don't let this happen to you.