My child's birthday is next week and I'm dreading it

Emotional Wellbeing
1

My daughter Emma turns 12 next week and I’m already feeling sick about it.

I bought her this art set she’s been wanting — the fancy one with the wooden case and real watercolors. Cost me $150 but she mentioned it back in March when we still had regular visits. Before everything went to hell. I keep looking at it sitting on my kitchen table, wrapped in purple paper with little unicorns because that’s what she loved when she was 10. God, I hope she still likes unicorns. How much has she changed in eight months?

I wrote her a card too. Took me three tries to get it right without breaking down. Just telling her how proud I am of her, how much I love her, how I think about her every single day. I didn’t mention the situation at all — my lawyer says keep it positive, don’t give them ammunition.

But here’s what’s eating me alive — I don’t even know if she’ll get it. My ex has ignored the last two packages I sent. Claims they “got lost in the mail” but somehow Emma’s report cards and school pictures make it to my house just fine. The birthday gifts from last year? Emma told me months later she never saw them. Her mom said I “never sent anything.”

I’m supposed to drop the present at my ex’s house Tuesday morning before school. Court order says I can do that much. But I’ll have to hand it to someone who’s spent months convincing my daughter I don’t care about her. Someone who might just toss it in a closet or return it to Target out of spite.

The worst part is not knowing if Emma even wants to hear from me anymore. Does she wonder why daddy missed her last birthday? Or has she been told I chose not to come?

I’m documenting everything like my lawyer says. Taking photos of the wrapped gift, keeping receipts, printing emails. But documentation doesn’t make Tuesday hurt any less.

Twelve years ago I was in that hospital room holding this tiny perfect baby, promising her I’d always be there. Never thought keeping that promise would be this hard.

2

God, the birthday dread is so real. I’m sitting here thinking about my twins turning 12 in February and my stomach is already in knots.

Those wrapped gifts sitting there, not knowing if they’ll even make it to her — I’ve been there too many times. Keep taking those photos though, even when it feels pointless.

3

God, this hit me so hard. I’m dreading my son’s 14th next month for exactly the same reasons.

That bit about the unicorn wrapping paper really got me — I still buy things based on what they liked years ago because it’s all I have to go on. Keep sending it anyway, even if she doesn’t get it right away. One day she’ll know you tried.

4

Oh love, this is me exactly. Same sick feeling, same wondering if they even want to hear from us anymore.

5

I remember my daughter’s 11th birthday. Same sick feeling, same wrapped present sitting there like an accusation.

Seven years later and I still buy her something every year, still write those cards. The not-knowing is the worst part — does she think I forgot, or does she know I tried?

That promise you made in the hospital? It still counts, even when it looks nothing like you imagined.