The Bakers Adventures

Tuesday night will go down as one of the hardest we’ve faced as parents. At 3am, Erin woke in a complete panic that Daddy had left. And of course, he had. She was inconsolable, sobbing in my arms for two straight hours. She’s my emotional twin, bless her, drowning in feelings so big they threaten to swallow her whole. I see so much of myself in her..the overthinking, the raw vulnerability, the intensity that’s both a gift and a curse.

The things she said broke me. “Daddy is my happiness,” she cried. “My heart hurts so bad. I need him. I can’t do a day without him. We aren’t a real family without him.” She even threw in, “I don’t care about the money or what it helps our family with, I just care about us being together.” Just go ahead and punch us both right in the heart. Dan held it together for as long as he could before quietly letting a few tears fall after she’d finally cried herself to sleep.

Pearl, on the other hand, managed to stay composed (at least by comparison). She’s the rational one, my little ray of practicality. She had her moments of tears, of course, but she was able to process it and bounce back quickly. She is so much like Dan in that way. Calm, logical, and able to move forward without overanalysing every detail. Honestly, she’s the one who probably keeps the three of us emotional roller coasters grounded.

At 2am, Dan gave me a hug, had a quiet cry, and left to start his adventure. His eyes were sad, but there was a glimmer of excitement too. He’s been so torn about this decision… doubting himself, worrying about the girls, and wondering if it’s all worth it. But I know in my heart that it is. It’s the least selfish decision he could have made, yet it’s hitting him hard because he’s the one leaving, the one who’ll face the isolation and loneliness of being so far away. Dan might be thousands of miles away, but we’re still here, surrounded by family, friends, and our routines. He’s heading into the unknown, and yet somehow I know he’ll thrive! He has that rare magic that draws people in and makes them love him instantly.

Yesterday morning, my hopes of getting the girls to school were slim. Erin was still teary and Pearl wasn’t far behind. I’d mentally prepared for a day of pjs and cuddles, but my mum swept in unannounced (classic Mum move), ready to help. She gave pep talks, and provided that silent, steady presence that only a mother can. It’s amazing how much a mother’s instinct means… knowing exactly when to show up, unasked but desperately needed.

And by some sweet miracle, the girls made it into school, albeit a little fragile. Erin, my little firecracker, even walked in with a smile, and Pearl gave me her usual cheeky wave. Meanwhile, I sat at the kitchen table, my sisters and best friend arriving one by one, bringing laughter, reassurance, and endless cups of tea. Truth be told, just their presence was enough. My kitchen was full, the kettle never stopped, and I couldn’t help but feel so lucky, so rich in love and support.

It’s a strange feeling, this mix of heartache and gratitude. Saying goodbye to Dan was harder than I imagined, but there’s beauty in having something so good it hurts to say goodbye. The love he has for our girls… how invested he is, how much he wants to be their everything…restores my faith in fatherhood in ways I didn’t even know I needed. My own experience with my dad couldn’t be more different. I was unfortunate to have two negative fatherly experiences. One never fought to see me, never once made me feel like I was worth the effort. And one just abandoned me when he was bored playing the figure in my life. Seeing Dan cry as he left, hearing Erin beg him to stay, and knowing he would do anything to take their pain away. it’s a bittersweet reminder of what I didn’t have, but also a healing one.

I cried for my dad this morning, for the man who didn’t want me. And then I cried for my children, who are crying because their dad does want them. That’s the difference, isn’t it? I’ll take this temporary pain over the permanent ache of rejection any day. And for those facing goodbyes that are final and forever, my heart aches for you. Life is all about perspective, and while I’ll never deny myself the right to feel sad, I’m deeply aware of how fortunate we are and how much I’ve grown to view my trauma this way.

This afternoon, I’ve got a life coaching session to set intentions for the week, and the girls will come home to hugs and as much comfort as I can muster. Dan called last night, and hearing his voice put me at ease… This distance doesn’t feel so bad when you’re soulmates. For now, I’ll keep the house warm, the hugs ready, and the hope alive that we’ll all come out stronger on the other side.