My sensitive heart always gets the best of me. I’m quietly crying at my desk at work. Wondering why I let people affect me so much? Why do I always expect a positive reaction when I’m so used to the negative? Isn’t doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result the definition of insanity? I’m not insane. I’m just too caring.
A few days ago, my sister had her baby. Initially, I was upset that the news came through my Mom, but I gave her a break. She’s a brand new mom! She deserves it! She’s probably too wrapped up in her bundle of joy to have time to message everyone.
As days past, I heard she was connecting with other friends and relatives, but my husband and I still hadn’t heard from her or her fiancé. I thought for sure once she received our gift that we would hear something.
We mailed a gift the day my nephew was born. We had it bought for months now. I slowly purchased things as I found them. My last addition was the book, “On the Night You Were Born”, by Nancy Tillman – a book I think every child should own.
I tracked the parcel. She received it yesterday. We never heard a thing.
I honestly thought pushing a human miracle out of her vagina would change her. I thought she would magically fill with light and love as she laid her eyes on her child for the first time. I thought this love and light would extend to the rest of her family because she would want her child to be a part of their lives. I was willing to forgive everything she had said and done to me over the past year – heck, over our entire lives – if it meant that our family could be closer again.
Clearly, I was super fucking wrong.
I guess childbirth doesn’t change everyone. Some people are unable to offer compassion, understanding and love to the world. Some people are too self-absorbed to ever step outside of their manipulative, narcissist bubble.
Today, my brother’s wife told me that my sister mentioned she received our gift. She is mad that my parents gave us her address.
I’m done crying now. I’m also done trying.
My happiness is too important to let her misery continuously inflict pain onto me. I may never know my nephew, but that choice was made by his mother.