THESE THINGS I DO

Brenna asked me a few days ago what I thought her daddy was going to get her for Christmas. My heart hit the floor, and pretty much broke into a million pieces, and I think I died, at least a little...
"I don't know, baby. What do you think?" (Not a chance in hell.)
"Um... I don't know. But I bet it's going to be something really good. Like, maybe a bike. Or a doll. But that BabyAlive doll. He knows I want it."
"Well, you know he will probably try very hard to send you something cool, but it may not get here on time, because he has lots of presents to buy for the rest of the kids, right? And he may not be able to send anything at all." (Hah. He'll try really hard. Like, to the end of his couch.)
"Yeah, Momo, but he's going to do it. Because he loves me so much, and he misses me a lot, and he will at least send a card to me or something. I know he will. He's a good daddy." 
"Yeah, I know, baby. I know." (Some days, I want to hunt you down and string you up.)
 I hope you see this. I hope someone tells you about it. I hope you know how much I've tried not to hate you, because of the wonderful girl I have in my life.
 I hope you know that I've cried more tears over the father you will never be to my daughter than you will ever understand. 
 I hope you know that for years, I have been making up stories about you and the holidays you've never called, or written, or emailed her for. WHY?! Why would I do this to myself? Why do I care about covering for a man who can't be bothered to contact or show any sort of fatherly attachment for one of the sweetest, smartest, most wonderful kids on the planet?
 Because when she asks about you, she is so loving, so hopeful, so innocent. She can't imagine that anyone would not want to know her. And I won't tell her that. 
 And I can't break her heart. I can't ruin her image of you. I don't want to be the one to tell her you're just a figment of her imagination.
 So I'll send her a card and a note this year... with your name on it, of course. And you'll get the credit, and a little piece of my heart will break when she writes you a letter that I will never mail to thank you for the present that you never sent her. And she'll be happy as ever that her faith in you was upheld. 
 Someday, when she's much, much older- I hope she gets to meet you. I hope you will become the parent later in life that you couldn't be bothered to be today, or at any point in the last 8 years. I hope you get the chance to see what a fabulous person she is. I hope you get the chance to love her, and to find yourself sucked into the contagiousness of her laughter. I hope you get to see how her eyes sparkle wildly when she's thought of something mischievous, and how excited a few flakes of snow will make her. I hope you get to see her happy dance, and I hope it hits you right in your chest that you missed so much of this. 
 Personally, a terrible, spiteful part of me is happy about it. You may get credit for things you've never done, and you may be thought of in glowing, wonderful terms in her mind, but I get to see it. I get to be there. I get to hear every word, feel every hug, kiss every boo-boo, and snuggle every hair on that little heathen's head. And you don't. You won't know what a sweet, high-pitched Minnie Mouse voice she had until she was 4 years old. You'll never know how wonderful it feels to have little hands rub your forehead and sing to you while she plays with your hair. You'll never know the amazement when she comes to you and shows you that she just taught herself to ride her bike, and she thanks you for being so proud of her. You'll never know feel the rush of excitement she felt at her first 'big girl birthday party.' 
 This stuff I do? Yeah, it's because I never want to have to explain that you let her down. Yeah, it's because I never want her to sit on the porch, staring into the distance, certain if she looks just a little harder, she's going to see your car driving up the road. I do it because I want to preserve that uninhibited, trusting soul just a little bit longer. I do it because that's what mommies do. <3