Half My Baby

NAWP has half my baby. In a jar.

When we talked about breaking up, NAWP asked me what we should do with Blue's ashes. And I said I wanted him with me. When I left, NAWP said we would have to split the ashes. I thought it would be cruel to deny him that tangible piece of our son. I watched as he poured them out into an empty jar that used to hold jam. I thought he was taking more than half. But I didn't say anything.

I have been trying to reach NAWP for over a week. We have some loose ends to sort out. I want to actually talk, too, about us, about what happened, about what is going through his head. When I left he said he thought we should talk, that we should keep in touch. When I called him the day after I left, he told me he was worried about me. And yet he has not reached out to me once. I find it cruel that he has not returned my calls. I am not talking about a boiling bunnies type of phone stalking, I am talking about two brief messages, a few more tries to get him on the phone, one text. He is cruel for ignoring me, for acting like I don't exist. And I want Blue's ashes back. I want NAWP to know that he doesn't deserve them. That he doesn't deserve to be the father of my son. Yet I know that I am the one who is suffering, not NAWP, in his stupid little game of cat and mouse. But if I just go away, it's like he's beaten me into submission. I can't hurt him, I must know that by now, but can't I still try?