At first, I was happy that Michael found someone who makes him happy.
From the day my son, Michael, was born, he was my greatest joy. I raised him alone after his father left when Michael was only a few years old. He was my whole world – my pride, my reason to get up every day and fight the hardships of life. I always thought we had a special bond that nothing and no one could ever break. But then Anna came into his life.
At first I was happy that Michael had found someone who made him happy. Anna was nice, smiling, and seemed like a warm person. I invited her to my house for dinner, I tried to get to know her. But over time I began to notice that something was changing. Michael, who had always called me regularly, suddenly became busier and busier. His visits to my house became less frequent, and when he did come, Anna was always there, monitoring every conversation.
„You can't be at her beck and call, Michael– she said once when she heard us agreeing to meet. Her words hurt me more than I wanted to admit. Michael, instead of answering, just looked at her with embarrassment and changed the subject.
One day, when I visited them in their new apartment, which they had recently purchased, Anna did not hide her coldness. Everything I said, she would respond with an ironic smile or a curt comment. When Michael went out to the kitchen, she looked at me and said: “Michael has his own life now, please understand that. You can no longer expect him to visit you as often as he used to.”
I was shocked. “I don't expect anything” I replied with a trembling voice. “I'm his mother. It's natural that I want to spend time with him.”
“Maybe one day you'll understand” she said coldly, before Michael returned to the room.
From then on, things only got worse. Anna began to limit our contact. Every attempt to get closer to Michael ended in failure. When I called, he rarely answered the phone. When I invited them to dinner, they always had other plans. Even on holidays, which we always spent together, Michael said: „Mom, this year we'll spend Christmas Eve with Anna's parents.”
I felt the ground slipping from under my feet. „Michał, what happened to us?– I asked him one day when I managed to meet him.
“Mom, nothing happened,” he replied, avoiding my gaze. “I just have my own life now. You have to accept that.”
“But I feel like Anna is doing everything to push us away,” I said, not hiding my tears. “Can't you really see what's happening??”
“Mom, don't say that,” he replied with a sigh. “Anna just wants us to have some space. It's not about you.”
But I knew it was. With each passing week, I felt Michael drifting further and further away from me. Anna became a barrier I couldn't overcome. My attempts to get closer to my son were perceived as interference, and every step I took was met with silent disapproval from Anna.
Today, I see Michael sporadically. Our conversations are short, full of tension. Each visit ends with a feeling of emptiness and pain. I wonder if I've lost him forever. Will he ever understand that all I wanted was to be a part of his life?
Being a mother is the most beautiful, but also the most painful role. Today I feel how fleeting it is – how easy it is to be pushed aside, forgotten. But despite everything, I'm still waiting. I'm waiting for Michael to remember who we were to each other. Because hope is what keeps me alive.
See what else we've written about in recent days: From Life. “My father married a woman the same age as my daughter”: I feel embarrassed every time I see them