This time of year always leaves me in such mixed feelings.
So this December, my dad would have been 55 years young. He transitioned from this world 7 years ago. So December (and June) have always been months where my depression peaks its little head ever so often and all I want to do is stay in bed, eat junk, and watch crap TV (well on my iPad).
And I don’t get “sad” because my dad died. I’ve come to terms with that, actually. But I regret what I did over 7 years ago to my dad.
Well, a thing most women don’t talk about is abortion. I had mine a little over 7 years ago. The only one I had and I had mixed feelings about going through with it.
At the time, I was in college, on a athletic scholarship, and going through a bit of depression being away from my family while my dad was sick. I was with someone I was in love with (I think) and I got pregnant. And I had no idea how I was going to tell my dad this because I just knew he would be disappointed in me.
Well, after I went through with it – because I knew there was no way I could raise a child with everything that was happening – my dad and I had a talk. He knew something was up and that I was keeping something from him. He also knew that everyone else – my mom, my coach, my boyfriend’s mom, etc. – knew something as well. And without really saying anything, he asked me if I was pregnant. When I told him I was, that’s what was more disappointing to him: the was part.
You see, I regret that I took away the chance for my dad to be a grandfather. Things weren’t looking that well with his cancer and we all knew this. But, somehow, I think knowing he was going to be a grandfather may have given him some hope, something to hold on just a little longer for. I don’t know…but it seemed that way.
Around this time 2 years ago, I was contemplating the same thing again: having another abortion. I didn’t see myself in an ideal situation this time either. But I just couldn’t do it. I thought of my dad and I thought of what I did and how he sounded when I told him. I know it may sound horrible, but I took this as a time to redeem myself, to have the grandchild he should’ve had (and please don’t confuse this as my sole reason).
I don’t know how many of your believe in dreams and their meanings or anything, but I had a dream that made my decision for me.
When I found out I was pregnant couldn’t figure out what exactly I wanted to do, my dad came to me in a dream. A little crazy, I know; but I had dreams about him maybe 3 or 4 times that I could remember after he passed. And that was it. I didn’t really think about him or dream of him much the years after that. But I dreamt of him one night. He was holding an infant, a baby in his arms…singing and rocking it – believe me, I know how strange this can seem.
But that was if for me. My redemption. I took this as a sign. He met his grandchild and was sending it to me. No more trying to “opt” out.
Ky is so much like him. She’s observant like he was, friendly like he was, very much the dancer like he was too! It was like he sent a little piece of himself to me through her. And I thank God that he did. I look her and think of him most days now. Things she does remind me of him and the things she attaches herself to were things he gave me. It gets me through those hard months now and I find myself smiling more.