My family is nothing but rubble. I had to hit rock bottom in order to start living and loving my son again

My family is nothing but rubble. I had to hit rock bottom in order to start living and loving my son again – Lifee.cz

On the third date, Monika admitted that she would like to have three children. It worried me a little because we had just started dating and she was already planning our future. I asked her why three. She answered me curtly: “It could be four, but certainly not less, because they would be bored… And we will need a big house…“

She wanted to have more children

I was madly in love with her then. I was drowning in her beautiful blue eyes, gorgeous face and soft voice. I was charmed by her kindness. When the word ‘kids’ came out, I thought of an image of my two naughty nephews that I wasn’t exactly in love with.

I told her softly, “OK honey. We’ll have kids and a house and everything you want.” I had no idea how I would fulfill these promises, but I was sure that I would do everything to make my beloved happy. I worked as a teacher, and my wife sold flowers. I decided to leave the job that I loved. S I wouldn’t do much on a teacher’s salary.

Together with a friend from elementary school, we founded a company. Ondra (47) was in charge of physical work and I arranged formalities, meetings and contacts. From the beginning, our company developed very well. I was making really decent money and we actually managed to build a house in a short period of time. “Now it’s time for the kids” my wife declared when we moved into our unfinished house on the outskirts of town. It was just before our third wedding anniversary.

We were waiting for the children

Although months and even years passed, nothing happened. We didn’t have the child that Monika so longed for. We exhausted all the options that the doctors offered us. “I have to have a baby or I’ll go crazy. We can’t wait any longer. Maybe we should consider adopting…Monika often said. She didn’t give up.

I was angry that I found myself on the sidelines. Everything revolved only around the child. She was in a hurry because we were both approaching our forties. We were already slowly losing the strength needed for parenthood. I was a bit skeptical but agreed. I did it for her, for the woman I loved as much as the day I promised her happiness. I couldn’t let her down.

And so we adopted Kryštof. He was five years old when he came to live with us. From the first meeting, a very strong bond was formed between him and Monika. Even the caregivers at the orphanage where he had lived since birth said they had never seen such a strong emotional response from both a child and an adoptive mother.

Monika had the whole summer to enjoy her son’s presence before he started kindergarten. Kryštof was always with her. He moved carefully around me and I didn’t know how to approach him either. I was simply afraid of him. I didn’t know how to be his father. I knew that his biological family was in a difficult situation, so I was worried that we would have problems with him in the future. The boy was handed over to the authorities on the third day after his birth, he was the only child of his biological mother.

Cancer took my wife

When school started, it became clear that Kryštof had problems with concentration. He was hyperactive and quickly lost interest in any activity that required concentration. Monika gave him a lot of attention, patiently helping him with his homework and making up games that helped him learn the multiplication table, remember new words and form correct sentences.

She was the whole world to him, while I, even though I saw that my wife was finally happy, I was jealous that she didn’t give me any time at all. It pissed me off that they had such a great relationship. “Maybe we could go to the cinema or the theatre. You don’t just have to take care of the baby. He is big now, he can stay with your mother for a few hours,” I suggested to Monica. I don’t need to add who she preferred.

Just before Kryštof’s eighth birthday, Monika began to feel nauseous. She complained of weakness and other problems, but she put off seeing a doctor. The situation escalated two months later when she passed out during rehearsals for a school play celebrating Mother’s Day.

Then it went very quickly: ambulance, hospital, diagnosis, surgery… Despite all efforts, Monika could not be saved. Cancer took my wife in just three months.

I could not find my way to my son

Cruel fate stripped my life of meaning. I started drinking right after her funeral. I even stopped washing. Kryštof was probably often hungry. I didn’t respond to his presence, questions or crying. My heart was like ice. I didn’t even send him to school for a while, but it didn’t bother me at all.

Eventually, my sister and mother began visiting alternately. They threw away my alcohol bottles, so I bought new ones. I stopped going to work, my friend was patient for a while, but then he stopped working with me.

After a year I started running out of money. One day, with shaking hands, I took several bills out of my mother’s purse. She saw what I was doing. She calmly approached me, took the money from me and said in a firm tone, “That would be enough! Stop drowning in despair and alcohol. You have a child. You have to live for him. You have to raise him, take care of his future. Apologize to my son. He needs your love. I am his grandmother, I may die soon. Christopher needs a father…“

I always had a deep respect for my mother, but deep down I knew I didn’t want this child. I never accepted Kryštof as my son. In an exhausting conversation with the nurse, who kept reminding me of my responsibilities to the boy, I frankly admitted this to her. She was angry with me. “You selfish! He’s afraid you’ll leave him. He sees how weak you are, yet he calls you daddy. You took him under your roof and now you want to throw him away like an old toy. When you do that…She couldn’t find the words.He only has you. You must be both father and mother to him. You can definitely do it. You’re not a bad person…“

Only the therapist saved me

Who knows what I would have done if a therapist hadn’t unexpectedly turned up at my house. She was brought by Ondra, who could not watch how I live. She had a long conversation with me. She didn’t mention Kryštof at all. She asked about my childhood, my relationship with my mother, my alcoholic father…

It was such a throwback to the past. A few days later I poured half a bottle of alcohol down the sink myself. Then came the day of the class meeting. I went there for the first time since my wife died. When she was still alive, I often helped organize various events and sports competitions at school. Now it was just a memory.

After the meeting, Kryštof’s class teacher stopped me. “It’s actually to his advantage that he didn’t pass.“She started telling me something, but I didn’t understand it at all. “How come he didn’t pass?” my eyes widened and a moment later I was overcome with immense shame.

Yes, Kryštof was still in the fourth grade, even though he was already eleven years old. I didn’t realize how much he suffered after Monica’s death. That’s when I understood that I had to do something, that I was responsible for the boy. For the first time I really began to understand that I was Kryštof’s father. And not just formally…

I started living again

It’s hard to describe how I became a real father. It was hard at first. Kryštof missed his mother, often cried, tried to hug me, but I refused him. I didn’t like it when he was afraid of me, but I didn’t know how to approach him, how to love him or at least like him.

That only came with time. Probably when I started dating other women. I brought some of them home, which almost always ended in an argument. Kryštof was dissatisfied, he criticized them. He once told me, “Dad, where did you get that blonk? Can’t you see she only cares about your wallet and I’m just getting in her way?“

He was right. I started to listen to him more and noticed that he loves me, trusts me and cares for me. Gradually, his love taught me to treat him as my own son. And I ended up loving him too…

The text was prepared based on a true story, the photo is for illustration only. Do you have a similar experience? Trust us with your story, write to [email protected].