My "Sophie's Choice"....

What would you do if you had to make a choice. One choice, you would loose your mother and brother and sisters, never to hear the tenor of their voice again. The other choice sits your husband and your little baby girl. And then there is you stuck in the middle, surrounded by people yet in a vast dark cavern in which you see no way out. No one in this situation will walk away happy. No matter what choice you make, the wake of that decision would breed heartache. I am talking about my Sophie's Choice moment. Amid an argument in my parents house in Morgan two and a half years ago, my mom presented me with that choice. If I tryed to make it work with my husband, the father of my child, the man I was sealed to for time and all eternity-if I went back to my husband's house, then my mom could no longer be there to support me. There was no happy ending, no life-altering lesson with soon to be out of date pop music playing in the background as the frayed edges became smooth. Life is not an episode of Dawson's Creek. There sometimes is no easy, clear answer. That moment, that day, something inside of me broke. And every doctor will tell you that if you break a bone and don't treat it, it can lead to a poisionous infection. I went to Chad and we ignored the festering broken bone. I would still try to be the bridge. I prayed everynight that next year for thanksgiving, next year for christmas, (or whatever holiday it happened to be,) that I will be able to sit down with all my family around me. Holding my husbands hand and laughing at some joke while in the living room at my parents home. But I wasn't allowed to bring Chad by or even mention his name. I wasn't allowed to try and explain certin curcumstances that had brought us to this point. I was being further pushed along to a resoultion that ment that I had to cut off the infected limb that housed that broken part of me. It was poisioning me and my relationships. I was tired of being in the middle of a tug of war. A year ago today was the last time that I talked to my mom. I cry and I hurt. I sometimes feel guiltly but I mostly feel sad. I do feel rejected. Like the ultimate rejection. How could a mother NOT support and uplift there daugter when she feels the lowest and the weakest, just because she is going to make a dession that she didn't agree with. I look at my lovely little Lauren. She has the exact same color of eyes as I do. She crosses her legs when she reads her books. She snores as loud as an old man! She is three and I am her world. She could do anything in this world, anything at all, and she would never loose my support. I don't always have to agree with the decisions that she makes, but Iwill always support my daughter because I love her and I am her mother. When we asked what my mom wanted for us when we grew up, all she would tell us is that she wants us to be happy. I am happy. I have a man who looks at me in a way that makes the pit of my stomache tighten. He has given me a life, a love, a home, a daughter and a son. I have all that I have ever wanted. My mom has never met Evan. It has taken me a while to realize tha mom doesn't always know best. All I can do is work on my family that I have created-Chad,Lauren, and Evan-and hope that one day she will realize, see and at least try to understand.