Easter Bunny. Tooth Fairy. Santa. Daddy.

What do these 4 things have in common?

Eventually my daughter will stop believing in them - in things she can't see.

I try to keep my blog clean and void of emotional rantings which contain little purpose but to cry out for much needed affirmation, encouragement.... perhaps denial that the things that scare me the very most are true. I try to act as though I am unfazed by the absenteeism of Eva's father, even grateful for it. I try to keep myself from breaking down as I hold my 3 year old while she cries for her Daddy. I try not to get upset. I try not to become bitter. I try not to hate men. It is not easy, and it's been getting harder.

Eva's getting older - physically and mentally. She is so clever, too clever. At times I shake my head at the impossibility of the job I have in front of me as her mother. I don't have the skills, the experience, the knowledge, the right words. Most nights I'm left wondering what the hell I'm doing, how it is I'm going to raise this child - by myself - to become a successful human being.

How can I shield her - protect her - take the bullet for her?

How can I?

For what is hurting her, causing her to cry so bitterly it would break any heart that witnessed it, is fused to her very existence. I cannot change the past any more than I can change her DNA. I cannot make her father come back to her. I cannot make him want to be with her. I cannot take that pain away.

For the most part, when I express these concerns to others - perhaps you, out there, have counseled me in this fashion at some point, and do not take offense by my following words for I know that all your intents and purposes was to help, never harm - but the hardest thing to hear when I earnestly need an ear to pour my worries into, is that everything will 'work out' or 'be ok' or 'she'll be fine without him'. I understand the intention is to make me feel better, but I feel as though I could just scream, "It will not be ok, because it will not go away! What is your definition of 'fine'?!"

I realize my daughter will not cease to exist from wanting her father - yet the tears she cries, the desires she confesses - they make ME want to cease to exist. And her deepest desires are so innocent, so pure, so simple and meager that the fact that they will not be granted is enough to case a great discomfort in my gut. And I have. no. power. "I want him (my daddy) to live with me."  "WHY can't he read my a bedtime story?" "I want him to love me!" "Is ____ going to be my Daddy, please?"

I've been perusing articles on the internet for guidance. There are numerous other single mothers out there, all who are yearning for answers to the same questions that I am. 'How do I explain to my daughter that he dad doesn't want to see her?' 'My Baby's daddy doesn't want to see her! What do I tell her?' Absent Father: Advice for Single Mothers Without Dad. I read these articles rapid-fire quick, waiting for the answer to spell itself out on the screen - complete with angelic hosts of angels and bold, highlighted, 100 type-size print - and tell me exactly what to do. The formula. The fix. The tried and true, proven blueprint that will make, as others have claimed, 'this all be ok.'

But alas, it is not so. Because I can only control MY actions. I cannot control his. I cannot even control hers - she will feel this in every capacity that she herself decides - I can only guide her through it. At times I feel as though I could force him into her life, hold him at gun-point-head-under-water-noose-around-his-neck while he pretends to be a 'good', present father figure and proves to her that not all men are deadbeats and she should believe in the goodness of the sex beyond the existence of a few, albeit colossal, assholes. Other times I wish to 'black bag' him - just get rid of him and claim immaculate conception. She'd buy it, right? Well, maybe for a few years.

I've tried the 'our family is different and that's okay' approach; as well as the 'you may not have a daddy but you have a mommy/papa/nana/uncle/auntie who loves you like crazy, so it'll be okay'. I had high hopes. I put such weight into the antidote-like nature of those words. But wait - hey - no fair - why is she still crying?

It's nights like tonight that I realize that no words I utter can replace the hole he has left.

And that, sadly, is that. No rainbow after the storm, no silver lining - it really will suck. In this vein at least. I suppose my sights should be set on uplifting other aspects of her life that I CAN control, for in this regard, there is no 'okay'.