An Open Letter to My First Ex-Husband

Our son is sick.  It's been going on for awhile now, over a month.  He's missed a lot of school.  I'm doing my best to keep him caught up, but it's been a lot.  He has an upper and lower endoscopy scheduled for Wednesday.  It's pretty twisted that I am hoping I don't hear, "the results are normal" again because I just want to know what's wrong so we can fix it.  There are those, too, that have questioned whether this is psychological so I've made another appointment with the psychologist he saw two years ago.  I know, though, when it's so late at night and I am rubbing his back to help him go to sleep and find him relief from that pain, that there is something wrong with our little boy.  Again. 

The first time he was sick, he was only moments old.  All those machines all over our baby and how they sedated him and transported him to a hospital an hour away: these are things I never forget.  And I've never forgiven you for making me beg you to take me to see him.  When we went back to that hospital, when we made the trip again in fourth grade, because of all his trouble in school, they still had your old insurance in their database.  I've been fighting for him all this time.  Where the fuck are you?

It was less than 24 hours after our baby was cut out of my body that I was released from the hospital to go see him. To this day, I wear this fact like a badge.  I fought for five years to get him his IEP for school; I've attended every meeting, sent every email, shed every tear.  I have never given up on him.  I have been an advocate for our child.  You are nowhere to be found.  

I hope he grows up to be a great man having had no role models to emulate.  I hope he grows up to be the "man" I am.