I need advice or support

I’m exhausted from feeling like a single parent while their father is still physically here.

I honestly don't know how much longer I can live with the feeling that the father of my children is technically present, but emotionally absent. He's physically around, but he isn't really there.

Maybe this is especially difficult for me to understand because I grew up with an incredibly present dad. My dad worked hard and came home exhausted, but he still spent time with me. He took me to the park, took me places with him, and showed up when I needed him. Even as an adult, I have never had to question whether my dad wanted me around.

Now I'm watching my three-year-old daughter desperately want that same connection with her dad.

She asks him for things or wants his attention, and he gets frustrated very quickly. Instead of calmly telling her to give him a minute, his tone immediately changes. When he comes home, he might say hello, kiss the kids, interact with them briefly, and then go do his own thing until bedtime.

Sometimes he'll lie down with us while I'm getting our daughter to sleep. She gets so excited simply because Daddy is beside her that she suddenly doesn't want to sleep anymore. She wants to talk to him, play with him, and have his attention.

Then he gets frustrated because she won't settle down.

But all I can think is: Of course she won't settle down. She's excited because she's finally getting time with you.

I'm currently staying with my parents, and I've decided I'm not going back right now. It's peaceful here. I'm calmer, and my children are surrounded by family members who genuinely enjoy interacting with them.

The hardest part is my daughter crying for her daddy.

She'll see videos of dads playing with their daughters and point at them and say, "Dada." It breaks my heart.

I don't know how to explain any of this to a three-year-old. I'm never going to tell her that her dad doesn't want her or put adult problems on her shoulders. She's a child. None of this is her responsibility.

But I also can't force another adult to be the parent I wish he would be.

I'm scared about what this could do to her as she gets older. I don't want her growing up desperate for attention or believing that tiny amounts of affection are enough. I want her to understand that love isn't just somebody saying they love you.

Love is showing up. Love is consistency. Love is making someone feel like they matter.

Then there's our son. He's one and has a heart condition. He's expected to have heart surgery in October.

When we talked about his surgery, his dad said he would rather stay home with our daughter because he doesn't think he can handle seeing our son connected to wires and a ventilator.

I understand that seeing your child like that would be terrifying. I'm terrified too.

But I'm his mom. I don't get the option of saying it's too difficult for me to see. I have to walk into that hospital, sit beside my baby, and somehow hold myself together through one of the scariest experiences of my life.

And realizing I may be doing that without his father beside me hurt more than I can explain.

I'm just tired.

I'm tired of watching my children reach for someone and receive small pieces of his attention. I'm tired of becoming angry about it and then feeling like my anger is somehow the bigger problem.

I'm not angry because I expect perfection. I'm angry because these kids deserve a parent who genuinely wants to know them.

At this point, I'm not even thinking about saving our relationship. This isn't really about our relationship anymore.

It's about my children.

I'm staying with my parents for now. It's calm here. My kids are surrounded by grandparents and family who play with them, talk to them, comfort them, and genuinely enjoy having them around.

Hearing my daughter cry for her dad still makes me question myself. It hurts knowing she's too young to understand why things suddenly changed.

But I can't go back simply because she's too little to understand why I left.

I can't make her father become the dad she deserves.

What I can do is make sure both of my children grow up surrounded by people who show them what love actually looks like.

I'm sad. I'm angry. I'm exhausted. And if I'm being completely transparent, I'm a little lost.

I think more than anything, I needed somewhere to say all of this.