One day, a song titled “Bye, Mom” played on the radio, evoking the bittersweet emotions of a mother watching her children grow and become independent. I felt an overwhelming sadness, not just because I dread my kids aging, but because the song resonated deeply with my reality—my four-year-old daughter leaving every other weekend. In that moment, I realized I would hear “bye, Mom” far more often than I wished.
These feelings made me reflect on the significance of those weekends apart and the heartache that accompanies them.
Every other weekend, I pick you up from school on Friday, rushing home to cherish the few hours we have together before you leave again.
Every other weekend, I meticulously pack your things, knowing it tears me apart that I can’t be there if you need something.
Every other weekend, I watch the clock, the closer it gets to your departure, the harder my tears fall.
Every other weekend, I see you kiss your brothers and stepdad goodbye, as they cling to you before you walk out.
Every other weekend, I hold you tight for as long as you allow, trying to hide my tears, even though you can see through my facade.
Every other weekend, I watch a vehicle pull up, fighting the urge to pull you back inside.
Every other weekend, I see my whole world walk away, capturing a final glimpse of your small figure and golden hair.
Every other weekend, I witness your little brother collapse on the floor in despair, realizing you’ve just left, and my heart shatters even more because you are so loved. He asks about you constantly, and I can’t bring myself to tell him the truth.
Every other weekend, as you drive away, I whisper a prayer for your happiness, health, and safety, hoping you know just how much you are missed.
Every other weekend, I become numb with thoughts of what you might be doing. Are you watching cartoons? Playing outside? Are you happy? Sad?
Every other weekend, I wear the expression everyone recognizes, and they ask, “You’re missing her, aren’t you?”
Every other weekend, I tidy your room, making it perfect for your return. Being in your space with your belongings brings me a small sense of comfort.
On the Monday after “every other weekend,” I rush to school, eager to see you again because I can’t bear the separation any longer. I hold you close and tight until it’s time for you to leave once more. I know this is how it is meant to be, and while many say I should adjust, since day one, you’ve been my girl, and I’d much rather have you by my side than apart. Those two weeks fly by, and I dread the heartbreak of every other weekend.
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Summary:
The emotional turmoil of shared custody is a profound experience for many mothers. Every other weekend brings feelings of grief, longing, and love, as mothers navigate the challenges of separation from their children. The heartache of watching their kids leave is compounded by the fleeting moments they get to spend together. Despite the pain, the bond between mother and child remains strong.
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