Maybe.

Cozy pajamas: check
Glass of red wine: check
Tissues: check

Deep breath.

J moved out today. I'm a single mom.

It's been a long time coming. But with the boxes gone and half the closet standing empty it's now official.

I think it's better now than when Babe is older. But it's funny. You'd think a baby wouldn't understand what was happening. But she looked confused while arm fulls of J's things were leaving the apartment today. And after he left she sat on the floor and quietly waved for a couple minutes. My heart broke for her.

I've wanted to write about this situation for awhile but I've had a hard time deciding just how to go about it. I want to be honest and open about everything. For myself and for my readers.

For me, I want this blog to be an accurate record of my life with Babe, not just a picture that I am comfortable showing to others. And for any of you going through the trials of mommyhood, I want this blog to be a source of information, humour, understanding and support. So I feel like I need to be as open as I can.

But at the same time, there is someone else involved here. Someone who doesn't necessarily want to air our dirty laundry. And as angry as I am, I have to make an effort to be respectful.

Here I am faced with the same problem I had when keeping a diary of my pregnancy. Babe may read this one day. And while I want to write down everything that is happening, there are things that she doesn't need to know about. Things that might hurt her. Things that she may not want aired to the world. And I don't want her to think badly of her father because he loves her to bits.

So how do I go forward on this blog?

I'm literally sitting here tapping my fingers on the desk. Well, not now. Now I'm typing. But I was. I. Don't. Know. What. To. Say.

Things have been pretty bad for a long time. Since before I was pregnant. A long time ago we were really in love. But I guess it didn't last. I tried to hang on for too long. Tried to make it work. Tried to make him happy. After awhile I sort of gave up and I just wanted to move away after school finished. But then I got pregnant. And I'm so happy I did. I always wanted to be a mommy.

I wasn't one of those idiots that thought a baby could fix a relationship. I knew things were about to get even more difficult. But still, I hung on. I thought maybe he just needed time to adjust to the idea of parenthood. I thought maybe we can make things good again. Maybe we can be happy again.

There wasn't a lot of support during the pregnancy.

Still I thought, "If I can just limp us along until the birth", then we'll be a family and maybe we can be happy again.

And of course J loves his baby more than anything and was thrilled when she was born. In fact it was him that cried in the delivery room, not me.

But J was in the middle of his last semester at school. And he was really stressed out and irritable. So right from the beginning Babe and I were alone a lot.

I thought, if I just take care of everything until he is done school. Maybe we can be happy again.

But we had Christmas break and the lack of schoolwork didn't seem to relieve the tension. And then school ended and the tension in the house was still there. We still weren't happy.

(I should clarify) I was happy. Exhausted, emotional, scared and overworked. Sometimes stressed and often times lonely. But thrilled to be a mommy and optimistic. When I say we weren't happy, I mean with each other. And really - I mean he wasn't happy with me or, it seemed, with anything.

I did a lot of things alone with Babe. If you go back and re-read this blog you'll see that most of the time it was just the two of us.

J will say it was because of school, or work, or he was sick or too tired. I say the motivation just wasn't there. I had waited so long for my own baby that I was overloaded with things I wanted to do with her in the first year. I really wanted us to do things as a threesome and as the months went by and that never happened I got more and more hurt and more and more resentful. Until I couldn't hide the anger any longer.

And when I reached my limit I was mean about it. I was so angry and I didn't make the home a very nice place for J to be anymore. And I left with Babe every chance I got.

Here is where I have to be especially careful. While I would love nothing more than to drag J through the mud for the rest of this post it is neither helpful nor fair. And I've already had my Jerry Springer moments for this breakup. So I'll just skip ahead.

We have been separated since June 1st but we were still living together while J looked for a new place. I went to D.C. and then to Alberta. J stayed home and worked. And even though we had broken up and were drafting the custody papers I guess there was a little part of me that thought:

Maybe we can still be happy.

You know how even though you know that the relationship is done there is that little part of you that hasn't closed the door all the way. The little voice that says, maybe?

J closed that door.

I asked him to leave.

He's been gone for awhile and today he came and took his things.

My heart is broken. But I think it's more for the breakup of the family than for the removal of J from my life.

And maybe it's my age, maybe I shed so many tears on the relationships of my youth that I have few left to cry. Maybe it's because I have a baby to be strong for. Maybe it's because I got used to the idea of being a single mom over the last few months. But I seem to be powering through this breakup in a way I never did before. I transitioned smoothly from Sinead O'Conner's, "Nothing Compares To You" to Beyonce's, "Irreplacable" in a matter of days and I already have new hair and a re-organized house.

Babe and I are out and about doing things on our own - but then again, we always were. And despite what you may read between these lines, I'm not that angry. Not as angry as I thought I would still be.

It's going to be hard. Really, stinking, shitting, fucking, Goddamn hard. J and I haven't been apart that long and I already find I'm struggling. We weren't getting along but he was still around to hold Babe or take out the garbage. Now I find myself getting frustrated and taking it out on her. Especially because she still doesn't sleep well and I'm just so worn down. I raise my voice more than I want to. I grumble more than I should. And I've said mean things about her daddy in front of her (even though I know she doesn't understand me, that isn't the mom I want to be).

But going it alone is also forcing me to try harder. There's not a lot of room for vanity, ego or selfishness in motherhood and there is less in single motherhood. And I know I can do it better.

It's not the fairy tale I had hoped for. But what ever is? And maybe I do have a little hope that the three of us will find a new way to be happy. But for now "we" is Babe and I.

And we are going to be happy.

No maybes.