I’m lying here with my perfect, gorgeous, happy 8 month old lying asleep on my lap and I have just been overwhelmed by how much I love this little guy. Everything he does he makes me proud, every time he laughs I smile, when he crys I just have to comfort him. I never knew this much love was possible, people tell you about it but you don’t believe it until you’re living it, but every day, every second, every happy moment is ruined, is overshadowed, by worry, by fear of the minutes, the hours, the days that when he is old enough that his dad will take him (we broke up when I was 7 months pregnant), that I will miss. It’s stupid. I should be enjoying the here and now and not wallowing in the what ifs and maybes, but there’s a part of me that knows it’s inevitable that the conversation will happen and that his dad will request time with Jackson without me, and that really, honestly, I have no right to stop him, but my god it will kill me. I miss him if I don’t see him for a few hours, when I have a shower, heck, when I go to the loo (on the rare occasions he doesn’t join me). And the knowledge that that separation is in our future is totally marring the present. It’s always there niggling in the back of my mind. I’m burying my head in the sand and pretending it won’t happen. Pretending, hoping that his dad will be happy with how we are at the moment, seeing him while I’m there, visiting us both, and us visiting him, but I can’t see that lasting. I’ve never stopped him seeing his son, and I never will, but why do I have to be separated from the boy who is my whole life for that to happen?