Sarah’s laughter faded, replaced by a more subdued tone. “I thought you’d understand,” she said softly, almost as if she were disappointed in me. “It’s just… I want to be ready, you know? I want to be a good mom.” Her voice cracked slightly, and I could sense the vulnerability underneath her initial bravado.
I took a deep breath, trying to approach the situation with empathy while still protecting my son. “I get it, Sarah. I really do. But this isn’t the way,” I said, choosing my words carefully. “You need to focus on your own baby. My son is not a practice run.”
There was another pause, and I could hear her sigh on the other end. “I just thought it would be nice to have him around,” she admitted, her voice small. “I miss him. We all used to be so close, and now…” Her voice trailed off, and I felt a pang of sadness for the distance that had grown between us over the years.
“I miss that too,” I replied, my voice softening. “But this isn’t about him living with you. It’s about us finding a way to be a family again, without putting pressure on each other.” I knew it was a delicate balance, trying to maintain a relationship while setting firm boundaries.
We spoke for a while longer, the conversation shifting to lighter topics as we tried to ease the tension. But the unease lingered, a reminder that things were far from resolved. As we hung up, I knew this was just the beginning of a longer journey.
The next day, I received an email from Sarah. The subject line read, “Proposal.” I opened it cautiously, unsure of what to expect. Inside was a detailed plan for how she envisioned the arrangement working. She had thought of everything—from schooling logistics to weekend visits.
I sat back in my chair, overwhelmed by the thoroughness of her plan. It was clear she had put a lot of thought into it, but it only reinforced my decision to stand firm. This wasn’t about logistics; it was about the fundamental role of being a parent.
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