If you've known me for a long time, this might come as a surprise, but I've dealt with depression for at least the last 20 years. Most people don't know because it's just not something I talk about, nor is it something that I even think about most days. I'm not saying that it's not a struggle, because it is; it's just not something that I have allowed to control my life. I've never been medicated for it at all since I learned ways to cope with it. I knit, I talk, I make people laugh, I do things to help others, so I don't always have to focus on myself. Are there days where I feel sorry for myself and dwell on the depression? Absolutely. Sometimes I take that day and allow myself to be sad and other times I get my butt off the couch, head out the door and actually DO something about it. I'm finding that exercise works wonders, even when I have to go alone.
Since my divorce, I've been happier and healthier than I was during my marriage. Looking back, I can see that my marital situation had a huge impact on who I was, and that impact was negative more often than not. While I was learning how to be a wife and a mother, I somehow lost myself. I closed myself off because I wasn't really allowed to go out and do things very often. I found comfort and friendship online because the internet was always there for me. I didn't have to find a babysitter to watch the kids while I had a conversation with another adult. I didn't have to come up with extra money to go out and do things because I could sit at the computer and talk to my friends for hours while none of spent a dime. It was wonderful. Know what else I started to find on the internet? Courage. My sense of self. That I was more than a wife and a mother. I was still a person. I could make new friends on message boards and in chat rooms and I could hide my social anxiety quite well.
Over the last few years, I have met some really wonderful people. Many of the people that I consider my best friends are people that I have never met in person, or have only spent a few hours with. However, they know me better than anyone else and they love me for who I am, even in the moments when I don't love myself so much. There are so many days where I would be lost without them. Yes, there are a handful of people that I know IRL that also fall into this category and I appreciate them just as much.
The last few months have been a struggle for me. School has not been going well and I feel like my life is falling apart in other areas as well. There are some personal things going on as well that I'm just not going to delve into here, but they have been quite trying and have taken a toll on me mentally and emotionally. During this time, I started reading about PMDD and some of the pieces started falling into place for me. I've been on birth control for this for about a month now and I can tell that it's making a difference. It hasn't made everything perfect, but it's helping and things are more manageable now. The doctor said it might take a few months for the full effect. I'm okay with that. I'm trying to focus more on school and my personal life...and give more attention to the people that I want to spend time with and less attention to the people that have a tendency to drag me down with them.
The real thing I want to address in this is that people somehow have decided in general that they are undeserving of love. Or that a failed marriage is the worst thing. I don't know. I glanced at that article that's making rounds on the internet about how marriage doesn't work any more and then looked at a few of the rebuttals. There is a lot of judgement concerning both on social media. The bottom line is that sometimes marriage really *doesn't* work. It's not always a matter of two people not working hard enough. Sometimes the people are just wrong for each other, to the point that them staying together is a toxic situation and no amount of counseling or shame or guilt is going to help. Don't judge someone for getting a divorce, even if the marriage always looked great to you from the outside. People generally don't like to talk about how crappy things are. I can guarantee that if you had to spend a day in half the marriage/divorce situations that you have judged, you would feel differently. If your marriage is on the rocks and counseling works for you, great! If there's something else that works, awesome! You keep doing that and be grateful because every single marriage is different. As I've learned over the years, there are very few things that hurt worse than watching someone you love be destroyed by a marriage. Be kind to each other.
Sunday, April 12, 2015
Saturday, September 21, 2013
Part 6: The Unexpected
Before I get into the recent stuff, I should say that everything hasn't been sunshine and roses since I went back to school. I completely failed my online biology class, but managed to get an A in math and a B in chemistry. Chuck has had issues with weight gain and food sensitivities, and I'm fairly certain that I'm gluten intolerant and I need to cut back on dairy. Going back to work and school with a newborn has been quite an adjustment. I've had to learn that no matter how hard I try, I can't have it all. There are areas of my life where I just can't do everything I want. The older kids were all breastfed and I used cloth diapers on most of them. Chuck nursed till she was about 3 months old and then we had to switch to formula because I just didn't have the time to pump and nurse and work and go to school and be a parent to 4 other kids and sleep. It's okay though. The mom guilt for that is gone. The daycare we use is full of amazing people that love my kids. I can go to school and work and not worry that my kids are being neglected by crappy workers at a crappy daycare. They're in good hands.
Now for the fun stuff...school is going well this semester. I got into the classes that I needed to and I'm determined to pass biology this time around. I'm making friends in my classes, even though some of them make me feel super old. I am so very blessed to have this opportunity to go back to school right now. The kids are doing great at school. Toothless, the 9 year old, is learning to play the cello. Nascar, the 10 year old, has abandoned the violin in favor of the French horn. Minion still hates reading and most of the kids still refuse to clean their rooms, but we're managing. We're not quite at the point where I'd say we're truly thriving, but we are well on our way there.
Throughout all of this, I've maintained a pretty firm stance in how happy I am being single and how I have no desire to date or complicate my life any further with men in any way, shape, or form. I've finally gotten to the point after a really horrid 10 year relationship, that I am 100% happy with myself (or at least know that I'm happy with things that I'm in the process of changing). I am good. I love being single and not having to worry about another adult. It's amazing. I feel like an actual grown up who finally has all her shit together.
And then a month ago, I found myself caring about another adult again. This is the busiest my life has ever been, between work, and school, and 5 kids, and trying to find time for myself and the few friends that I do have...though most of my friends live somewhere in the internet, so we still manage to make that work. I'm not content with my life being crazy busy enough and I find myself head over heels over a stinking boy. I was done with boys. DONE, I tell you! But then this boy wanders into my life, understands me, cares about me, makes time for the kids, doesn't care that I don't have a million hours of free time to give him, and in the process of everything sweeps me off my feet. He's a good guy, you guys. He does the dishes. He plays with the kids so I can nap or study or finish making dinner in peace. He doesn't have to do any of it, but he does it without being asked. He really is amazing.
My brain is still trying to wrap itself around everything and convince itself that I deserve someone that treats me well, which means that my brain also does this really cool thing where it freaks out about everything and decides that no matter what anyone says, I'm reading too much into things, it's not going to last, things really aren't different this time, and I'm going to get my heart broken again. I want so badly for this to work out. I want him to stick around forever and he says that he will, but I've been told that before, so I'm still haunted by doubts. I don't want to be that damaged girl that inevitably screws things up somehow. I don't want him to get bored with me or realize that I'm more crazy than he can handle. He's good for me. He keeps me grounded. And suddenly, despite all my protesting, I'm at the point where I need him in my life.
Now for the fun stuff...school is going well this semester. I got into the classes that I needed to and I'm determined to pass biology this time around. I'm making friends in my classes, even though some of them make me feel super old. I am so very blessed to have this opportunity to go back to school right now. The kids are doing great at school. Toothless, the 9 year old, is learning to play the cello. Nascar, the 10 year old, has abandoned the violin in favor of the French horn. Minion still hates reading and most of the kids still refuse to clean their rooms, but we're managing. We're not quite at the point where I'd say we're truly thriving, but we are well on our way there.
Throughout all of this, I've maintained a pretty firm stance in how happy I am being single and how I have no desire to date or complicate my life any further with men in any way, shape, or form. I've finally gotten to the point after a really horrid 10 year relationship, that I am 100% happy with myself (or at least know that I'm happy with things that I'm in the process of changing). I am good. I love being single and not having to worry about another adult. It's amazing. I feel like an actual grown up who finally has all her shit together.
And then a month ago, I found myself caring about another adult again. This is the busiest my life has ever been, between work, and school, and 5 kids, and trying to find time for myself and the few friends that I do have...though most of my friends live somewhere in the internet, so we still manage to make that work. I'm not content with my life being crazy busy enough and I find myself head over heels over a stinking boy. I was done with boys. DONE, I tell you! But then this boy wanders into my life, understands me, cares about me, makes time for the kids, doesn't care that I don't have a million hours of free time to give him, and in the process of everything sweeps me off my feet. He's a good guy, you guys. He does the dishes. He plays with the kids so I can nap or study or finish making dinner in peace. He doesn't have to do any of it, but he does it without being asked. He really is amazing.
My brain is still trying to wrap itself around everything and convince itself that I deserve someone that treats me well, which means that my brain also does this really cool thing where it freaks out about everything and decides that no matter what anyone says, I'm reading too much into things, it's not going to last, things really aren't different this time, and I'm going to get my heart broken again. I want so badly for this to work out. I want him to stick around forever and he says that he will, but I've been told that before, so I'm still haunted by doubts. I don't want to be that damaged girl that inevitably screws things up somehow. I don't want him to get bored with me or realize that I'm more crazy than he can handle. He's good for me. He keeps me grounded. And suddenly, despite all my protesting, I'm at the point where I need him in my life.
Part 5: The Girl Named Chuck
We made plans for Mom to come to Colorado the last week of the semester in case I needed to go to the hospital and so I could study for finals instead of being the sole caregiver for the other 4 kids. My due date was just a few weeks after my sister was scheduled to leave the country. I desperately wish that Tater had been here to meet her new niece, but it wasn't in the cards.
I had an appointment around May 3rd, though it may have been a full week before that, and the doctor let me know that I was 3 cm dilated. I was having contractions and wasn't sure I would make it through the weekend. My mom and I talked and decided that she should probably start driving since it was a 12 hour trip and babies are unpredictable. She was here the next day. While she was driving, I was nesting like crazy. That was completely knew for me, and I had every expectation of telling my mom to meet me at the hospital whenFacebook (2) she got into town. We had dinner at Red Lobster that night instead.
I made it through finals week and continued working...doing things that very pregnant women should be doing...unloading trucks and pushing flatbeds around the store, with a ton of bending and lifting and walking. Every time I went to the doctor, the news was the same. I was still 3 cm. I was having contractions fairly regularly. They weren't making a difference though. I was due May 10th. At my appointment on May 15th, we decided that we needed to schedule an induction for the 20th. I was still in good spirits and told the nurse to tell my doctor that I would see him on Monday morning and he better remember to show up this time.
Around 5:00 AM on the 16th, I figured out that I was really in labor. I got the kids all ready for school, called work to let them know that I wasn't going to be there, dropped most of the kids off at school, and then Mom, Spiderman, and I headed to the hospital at 8:00 AM.
By 10:30, I was in my room, with an epidural, and feeling pretty fantastic. I was texting and tweeting to keep everyone informed. My mom had taken Spiderman to McDonald's for breakfast, so it was just me and the nurse. At like 11:20, I told the nurse I felt like pushing, so she said, "Okay! Let's have you push a few times and then we'll get this doctor in here and we'll have a baby!" I pushed once and she called the doctor and told me not to push anymore. Chuck was ready to go. Once the doctor arrived at 11:38, Nurse Nancy told me to go ahead and push. I pushed once and the doctor and nurse were cheering me on. They told me to breathe and then push again and immediately after I started pushing they told me to stop. Yes, because that's convenient timing. After about 30 seconds, they told me to go ahead and push again, and then suddenly, there was a baby...a fat, squirmy, pink baby. My baby...the baby that I had been terrified that I couldn't love, that I couldn't take care of, that I couldn't protect...my baby. She was here and I couldn't have been more wrong about how I would feel. I loved her two parents' worth from the second I held her.
After confirming that Chuck was a girl (Mom had been super concerned that the ultrasound was wrong), I called or texted my mom to let her know that she could bring Spiderman back to meet her sister. They were still at McDonald's, my mom's van blocked in by three cop cars. Spiderman still talks about it.
By the time they arrived, Chuck was all cleaned up and beautiful, waiting for her adoring fans. Spiderman burst into the room, demanding to see her baby. Her actual baby, Thor, had been abandoned on the floor hours earlier. Spiderman wanted to hold the baby and kiss the baby and count her fingers and make sure everything was okay. She kept telling the staff that it was her baby. Chuck needed to go to the nursery for some standard testing, so we packed up all my stuff and switched to the postpartum room. We had to stop by the nursery on the way so Spiderman could see that she was still there.
Mom brought all the kids to the hospital after school so they could meet Chuck. They were all smitten immediately, but who can blame them? She's a lovable little thing. The other 4 went to their dad's house the next day and Mom brought us home from the hospital. It was nice to have that time alone at home before getting back into the everyday insanity.
When Minion, the 6 year old, walked in the door on Sunday afternoon, he took one look at me and yelled, "Mom, is the baby walking yet?!?!" No, kiddo, she's not. Did she say her first word? No, you didn't miss that either. She's going to be tiny for a while yet and we've got all the time in the world to watch her grow.
I had an appointment around May 3rd, though it may have been a full week before that, and the doctor let me know that I was 3 cm dilated. I was having contractions and wasn't sure I would make it through the weekend. My mom and I talked and decided that she should probably start driving since it was a 12 hour trip and babies are unpredictable. She was here the next day. While she was driving, I was nesting like crazy. That was completely knew for me, and I had every expectation of telling my mom to meet me at the hospital whenFacebook (2) she got into town. We had dinner at Red Lobster that night instead.
I made it through finals week and continued working...doing things that very pregnant women should be doing...unloading trucks and pushing flatbeds around the store, with a ton of bending and lifting and walking. Every time I went to the doctor, the news was the same. I was still 3 cm. I was having contractions fairly regularly. They weren't making a difference though. I was due May 10th. At my appointment on May 15th, we decided that we needed to schedule an induction for the 20th. I was still in good spirits and told the nurse to tell my doctor that I would see him on Monday morning and he better remember to show up this time.
Around 5:00 AM on the 16th, I figured out that I was really in labor. I got the kids all ready for school, called work to let them know that I wasn't going to be there, dropped most of the kids off at school, and then Mom, Spiderman, and I headed to the hospital at 8:00 AM.
By 10:30, I was in my room, with an epidural, and feeling pretty fantastic. I was texting and tweeting to keep everyone informed. My mom had taken Spiderman to McDonald's for breakfast, so it was just me and the nurse. At like 11:20, I told the nurse I felt like pushing, so she said, "Okay! Let's have you push a few times and then we'll get this doctor in here and we'll have a baby!" I pushed once and she called the doctor and told me not to push anymore. Chuck was ready to go. Once the doctor arrived at 11:38, Nurse Nancy told me to go ahead and push. I pushed once and the doctor and nurse were cheering me on. They told me to breathe and then push again and immediately after I started pushing they told me to stop. Yes, because that's convenient timing. After about 30 seconds, they told me to go ahead and push again, and then suddenly, there was a baby...a fat, squirmy, pink baby. My baby...the baby that I had been terrified that I couldn't love, that I couldn't take care of, that I couldn't protect...my baby. She was here and I couldn't have been more wrong about how I would feel. I loved her two parents' worth from the second I held her.
After confirming that Chuck was a girl (Mom had been super concerned that the ultrasound was wrong), I called or texted my mom to let her know that she could bring Spiderman back to meet her sister. They were still at McDonald's, my mom's van blocked in by three cop cars. Spiderman still talks about it.
By the time they arrived, Chuck was all cleaned up and beautiful, waiting for her adoring fans. Spiderman burst into the room, demanding to see her baby. Her actual baby, Thor, had been abandoned on the floor hours earlier. Spiderman wanted to hold the baby and kiss the baby and count her fingers and make sure everything was okay. She kept telling the staff that it was her baby. Chuck needed to go to the nursery for some standard testing, so we packed up all my stuff and switched to the postpartum room. We had to stop by the nursery on the way so Spiderman could see that she was still there.
Mom brought all the kids to the hospital after school so they could meet Chuck. They were all smitten immediately, but who can blame them? She's a lovable little thing. The other 4 went to their dad's house the next day and Mom brought us home from the hospital. It was nice to have that time alone at home before getting back into the everyday insanity.
When Minion, the 6 year old, walked in the door on Sunday afternoon, he took one look at me and yelled, "Mom, is the baby walking yet?!?!" No, kiddo, she's not. Did she say her first word? No, you didn't miss that either. She's going to be tiny for a while yet and we've got all the time in the world to watch her grow.
Part 4: In the Loop
Faced with not enough income, not enough experience to get a better job, and my impending maternity leave, I decided that the best move would be for me to go back to school. It would provide enough money that I could afford the rent on my own and it would get me headed in the right direction to having an actual career someday. Going to school with 4 kids, while pregnant and due the week after finals is far from ideal, but I needed to work with what I had.
People at work knew I was pregnant, though it took some of them quite a while to figure it out. I had told a few more friends at this point. My classmates also knew that I was pregnant. My family still did not know. I was terrified hat I would be letting them down again, even though I knew that once the initial shock wore off, they would be completely supportive. I couldn't find a good time to bring it up though.
My sister, Tater (she'll love that I'm using that for her here) was here for a weekend to head to the Tyrone Wells concert with me before she headed off on her church mission for 18 months. I thought I'd tell her on the drive to Denver. Instead, we ended up driving through a freaking blizzard and I couldn't tell her anything because I knew I'd cry and I was having enough trouble seeing the road as it was. The next morning, we stopped at the grocery store on the way home, and I blurted out, "You're going to have another niece" in the shampoo aisle. An old coworker rounded the corner about 30 seconds later and asked if I'd heard from the baby's father yet. Yeah, I like to cut things close sometimes. My sister was fine though. She was annoyed at the loser, but she'd never been a big fan of him anyway. I made her promise not to tell Mom yet, since she was getting ready for her honeymoon and I didn't want anything to bring her down.
Mom found out within a week...after talking to my sister on the phone a couple times. Apparently Tater was super stressed out about something and my mom could just tell from her tone of voice. She said that Mom needed to talk to me or that she promised me she wouldn't tell or something like that. Mom called me a few times that week and would randomly ask me if there was anything I needed to talk about. I still wanted to wait till she was back from her trip to say anything. Finally, she said, "Kari, I know you're pregnant." Not really how I wanted that to go, but it is what it is. She was also fine with it and started sending me baby clothes almost immediately. She loved this baby as much as she loves all my other kids. She told me that she was proud of me and how I was handling things.
My sister, Tater (she'll love that I'm using that for her here) was here for a weekend to head to the Tyrone Wells concert with me before she headed off on her church mission for 18 months. I thought I'd tell her on the drive to Denver. Instead, we ended up driving through a freaking blizzard and I couldn't tell her anything because I knew I'd cry and I was having enough trouble seeing the road as it was. The next morning, we stopped at the grocery store on the way home, and I blurted out, "You're going to have another niece" in the shampoo aisle. An old coworker rounded the corner about 30 seconds later and asked if I'd heard from the baby's father yet. Yeah, I like to cut things close sometimes. My sister was fine though. She was annoyed at the loser, but she'd never been a big fan of him anyway. I made her promise not to tell Mom yet, since she was getting ready for her honeymoon and I didn't want anything to bring her down.
Mom found out within a week...after talking to my sister on the phone a couple times. Apparently Tater was super stressed out about something and my mom could just tell from her tone of voice. She said that Mom needed to talk to me or that she promised me she wouldn't tell or something like that. Mom called me a few times that week and would randomly ask me if there was anything I needed to talk about. I still wanted to wait till she was back from her trip to say anything. Finally, she said, "Kari, I know you're pregnant." Not really how I wanted that to go, but it is what it is. She was also fine with it and started sending me baby clothes almost immediately. She loved this baby as much as she loves all my other kids. She told me that she was proud of me and how I was handling things.
Part 3: When Things Went Weird
December rolls around and the loser tells me he doesn't have money for rent. Neat. Figure it out because I can't cover your share of the rent. A couple weeks later, he tells me he won't be paying rent because he found a job in the Caribbean and needs that money to move there, but he promises he'll send me some money once he starts getting a paycheck. He told me that he talked to the landlords and told them what was going on and that they were fine with him paying late. I think he told me on a Wednesday that he was leaving the following Monday. He waited till the kids were going to bed on Sunday night to tell them anything, so they cried themselves to sleep. He told them that he was going to be gone for a few months, but he was coming back. He told me he would keep in touch.
The last week, he was sort of interested in the pregnancy. He would randomly put his hand on my belly and say he was going to miss all of us. The night before he left, I slept on the couch, chatting with some friends online about how much I hated him and how he was a horrible person. He came out and sat next to me on the floor. Totally ruined my rant because I felt like a jerk discussing it with him sitting there. I didn't want anything to do with him so I just pretended to sleep. Yes, really adult of me, I know, but I had nothing to say to him, nor did I want him talking to me. He stayed there all night. It was awful.
He left the next day while I was at work and the kids were at school and daycare. He didn't say goodbye, nor did I want him to. He didn't leave his key, which pisses me off more than anything. There are extra locks on the door at night, so he can't get in anyway.
He randomly sent me a few messages on Facebook over the next month...mostly just excuses for why he couldn't send money...the bank was on the other side of the island...he didn't have a bank account anyway...he had no internet access...(I'll let that last one sink in for a moment because it's just so damn hilarious). The one thing he could do to get me money was to fly back to Colorado and give me cash. At this point, he owed me about $2K between rent, late fees, and other bills. Spending money on a plane ticket, seemed like a very poor choice to me when he could hire a taxi to take him across the island to whatever bank and just wire me the money. I told him he needed to figure it out.
The landlords asked me about December rent again and that they couldn't get a hold of him because his phone appeared to be disconnected. The loser had told him that "he had some other bills that needed to be paid and the bank was garnishing his checks for those and he would pay rent as soon as he started getting checks again." He did not tell them that he had left the country a month ago. I questioned him about all that, and he told me that the landlords were just lying and that he had told them everything. First of all, I have known my landlords for like 7 years. They are good people. They are not idiots. They would not make up something that stupid. Ever. He stuck to his story though.
I told him that I had an ultrasound coming up. I didn't hear for him for another month, and when I did, he called me. He told me that he missed us all terribly and that his job there was ending. Wanted to know if he could come back and live with us until his next job started in June or July. I said, "So you want to know if you can come back here, when you're already planning on leaving again?" No. Hell no. And you're not coming back even if you were planning on staying. He said he wanted to be part of the baby's life...the one he still hadn't asked about...wanted to be there for the birth. I told him that I couldn't keep him out of the state but he sure as hell wouldn't be allowed anywhere near my children. He asked how the kids were going to feel when they found out he was in town and wasn't coming to see them. He didn't like that I said that they wouldn't even know he was in town. I don't know why he thought I would ever let him back into our lives. I asked him what level of involvement he was planning on having with the baby and he told me he didn't understand the concept of "levels of involvement." I explained that I just wanted to know if he thought he was going to actually stick around or just buy diapers or what. He asked again if he could come back. I said no again. He told me to fuck off and hung up.
The last week, he was sort of interested in the pregnancy. He would randomly put his hand on my belly and say he was going to miss all of us. The night before he left, I slept on the couch, chatting with some friends online about how much I hated him and how he was a horrible person. He came out and sat next to me on the floor. Totally ruined my rant because I felt like a jerk discussing it with him sitting there. I didn't want anything to do with him so I just pretended to sleep. Yes, really adult of me, I know, but I had nothing to say to him, nor did I want him talking to me. He stayed there all night. It was awful.
He left the next day while I was at work and the kids were at school and daycare. He didn't say goodbye, nor did I want him to. He didn't leave his key, which pisses me off more than anything. There are extra locks on the door at night, so he can't get in anyway.
He randomly sent me a few messages on Facebook over the next month...mostly just excuses for why he couldn't send money...the bank was on the other side of the island...he didn't have a bank account anyway...he had no internet access...(I'll let that last one sink in for a moment because it's just so damn hilarious). The one thing he could do to get me money was to fly back to Colorado and give me cash. At this point, he owed me about $2K between rent, late fees, and other bills. Spending money on a plane ticket, seemed like a very poor choice to me when he could hire a taxi to take him across the island to whatever bank and just wire me the money. I told him he needed to figure it out.
The landlords asked me about December rent again and that they couldn't get a hold of him because his phone appeared to be disconnected. The loser had told him that "he had some other bills that needed to be paid and the bank was garnishing his checks for those and he would pay rent as soon as he started getting checks again." He did not tell them that he had left the country a month ago. I questioned him about all that, and he told me that the landlords were just lying and that he had told them everything. First of all, I have known my landlords for like 7 years. They are good people. They are not idiots. They would not make up something that stupid. Ever. He stuck to his story though.
I told him that I had an ultrasound coming up. I didn't hear for him for another month, and when I did, he called me. He told me that he missed us all terribly and that his job there was ending. Wanted to know if he could come back and live with us until his next job started in June or July. I said, "So you want to know if you can come back here, when you're already planning on leaving again?" No. Hell no. And you're not coming back even if you were planning on staying. He said he wanted to be part of the baby's life...the one he still hadn't asked about...wanted to be there for the birth. I told him that I couldn't keep him out of the state but he sure as hell wouldn't be allowed anywhere near my children. He asked how the kids were going to feel when they found out he was in town and wasn't coming to see them. He didn't like that I said that they wouldn't even know he was in town. I don't know why he thought I would ever let him back into our lives. I asked him what level of involvement he was planning on having with the baby and he told me he didn't understand the concept of "levels of involvement." I explained that I just wanted to know if he thought he was going to actually stick around or just buy diapers or what. He asked again if he could come back. I said no again. He told me to fuck off and hung up.
Part 2: The Part Where I Lost Myself
A month later, my period was late...really late. I refused to take a test. I didn't want to know. I couldn't possibly handle having another kid at that point in time. If I didn't know for sure, I could just ignore it. Weeks later, I finally bought a test on the way home from work...even joked with the cashier at the store...then came home and took the test. It was positive immediately. I sent my friend a text: "FML." I had no other words. I felt nothing else. I sat in the bathroom, my mind, my body, my heart, my soul, all going numb, one after the other. I could barely move. Eventually I wandered into the bedroom to tell him. He was still asleep, of course, because that's what he did when he wasn't "job hunting" or on the computer playing whatever stupid game. I woke him up and just said, "I'm pregnant." It's all I could get out. He cried, and not in the good "Yay! We're going to have a baby and it's going to be amazing and we will make this work!" sense...it was crying in the "This is the worst thing that has ever happened to me and you have totally ruined my life," sense.
Of course, it was my fault, but not my decision to what I wanted to happen. I always felt that if I ever was in this situation, I would keep the baby. I would do everything in my power to make sure that the baby knew it wasn't their fault that the circumstances sucked. He asked what I was going to do, not what WE were going to do. I said I couldn't have an abortion...that it just wasn't an option for me. He said it was the only option for him because he "just couldn't be a father." He mumbled something about having a shitty childhood, something else about how he'd rather be dead than have kids. He cried some more. He locked himself in the spare bedroom for a couple of days at some point. Good job, loser. Way to make zero effort to figure this out. I cried because I was alone and knew that I would have to figure out how to handle whatever decision I made. I explained to him in the Target parking lot that I couldn't have an abortion because I would hate myself. He said, "Well, we can work on that later" and something about how if I didn't have an abortion, he would hate me. I didn't care. I couldn't hate myself, but at the same time, I couldn't see how I could manage being a single mom of 5 kids.
The next week. I made an appointment at Planned Parenthood to talk to someone. They scheduled me for an abortion for that Thursday. I cried and cried. Later that week, I was laying in bed with 2 year old Spiderman and we were taking silly selfies. It was at that moment that I knew I couldn't go through with the abortion. I would figure this out on my own. My mom and her friend unexpectedly were in town for the weekend, so that gave me an excuse to miss the appointment. The loser was constantly asking me if I was going to reschedule or call them or what. Yeah, not gonna happen.
A week or so later, we had a discussion about how he felt he should have equal say in my decision. He couldn't grasp the fact that whatever happened, it was physically going to happen to me. He only had the emotional side to deal with and he'd already made the baby nonexistent there.
One night at work in mid October, I started having severe cramping. The numb feeling came back. I left work to go home so the loser could drive me to the ER. I made it in the front door before I collapsed on the floor and couldn't move. I tried calling him, I tried yelling, nothing worked. He was asleep again and I couldn't get help. In hindsight, I should have called someone else, but the only people that knew I was pregnant at this point lived in Massachusetts or Australia and maybe England and Canada. I didn't want anyone else to know about my private hell. I couldn't deal with the guilt and the shame that I already felt. 45 minutes later, I dragged myself down the hall and woke up the loser. We went to the ER and they started running tests....blood tests, multiple ultrasounds, nothing that really gave them any answer other than it was probably the beginning of a miscarriage and I should be on bedrest for a while.
I should have been elated at this point. My problems would be solved. I was still numb...I was slowly dying inside. My heart was breaking. I couldn't lose this baby, no matter what. She was mine and I would fight like hell to keep her safe. I quit my job. I was working nights and I never saw the other kids...this was just the last straw. I went in and got my old job back. The hours were sane even though the pay completely sucked, but I would see my kids and I wouldn't be risking the pregnancy.
The loser and I didn't talk about the baby again until sometime in December.
Of course, it was my fault, but not my decision to what I wanted to happen. I always felt that if I ever was in this situation, I would keep the baby. I would do everything in my power to make sure that the baby knew it wasn't their fault that the circumstances sucked. He asked what I was going to do, not what WE were going to do. I said I couldn't have an abortion...that it just wasn't an option for me. He said it was the only option for him because he "just couldn't be a father." He mumbled something about having a shitty childhood, something else about how he'd rather be dead than have kids. He cried some more. He locked himself in the spare bedroom for a couple of days at some point. Good job, loser. Way to make zero effort to figure this out. I cried because I was alone and knew that I would have to figure out how to handle whatever decision I made. I explained to him in the Target parking lot that I couldn't have an abortion because I would hate myself. He said, "Well, we can work on that later" and something about how if I didn't have an abortion, he would hate me. I didn't care. I couldn't hate myself, but at the same time, I couldn't see how I could manage being a single mom of 5 kids.
The next week. I made an appointment at Planned Parenthood to talk to someone. They scheduled me for an abortion for that Thursday. I cried and cried. Later that week, I was laying in bed with 2 year old Spiderman and we were taking silly selfies. It was at that moment that I knew I couldn't go through with the abortion. I would figure this out on my own. My mom and her friend unexpectedly were in town for the weekend, so that gave me an excuse to miss the appointment. The loser was constantly asking me if I was going to reschedule or call them or what. Yeah, not gonna happen.
A week or so later, we had a discussion about how he felt he should have equal say in my decision. He couldn't grasp the fact that whatever happened, it was physically going to happen to me. He only had the emotional side to deal with and he'd already made the baby nonexistent there.
One night at work in mid October, I started having severe cramping. The numb feeling came back. I left work to go home so the loser could drive me to the ER. I made it in the front door before I collapsed on the floor and couldn't move. I tried calling him, I tried yelling, nothing worked. He was asleep again and I couldn't get help. In hindsight, I should have called someone else, but the only people that knew I was pregnant at this point lived in Massachusetts or Australia and maybe England and Canada. I didn't want anyone else to know about my private hell. I couldn't deal with the guilt and the shame that I already felt. 45 minutes later, I dragged myself down the hall and woke up the loser. We went to the ER and they started running tests....blood tests, multiple ultrasounds, nothing that really gave them any answer other than it was probably the beginning of a miscarriage and I should be on bedrest for a while.
I should have been elated at this point. My problems would be solved. I was still numb...I was slowly dying inside. My heart was breaking. I couldn't lose this baby, no matter what. She was mine and I would fight like hell to keep her safe. I quit my job. I was working nights and I never saw the other kids...this was just the last straw. I went in and got my old job back. The hours were sane even though the pay completely sucked, but I would see my kids and I wouldn't be risking the pregnancy.
The loser and I didn't talk about the baby again until sometime in December.
Part 1: The Beginning
As most of you know, I have a 4 month old named Chuck. Very few of you know the circumstances surrounding how she joined our family. I met her "father" online. Brilliant, no? He seemed like a good guy, trustworthy, wanted to look out for the kids and me. Hated my ex with the fire of a thousand suns. Seemed legit. I needed a roommate, so we decided he should move out of his mom's house (he was only there because he was job hunting...for the last year) and move to Colorado to live with us. I know, every red flag has been raised for every single one of you, but I didn't see it. I have a tendency to trust people until they've proven that they can't be trusted. I need to make people earn that trust. I get that now, and I'm trying to do better.
He moved out here and shortly after that we went on a trip to SDCC and Nerd HQ in San Diego. The trip had been planned for another friend (yes, just a friend), that had to cancel, so it was just a matter of switching the names on the plane tickets. My sister and my mom and her fiance watched the kids while we were gone. I needed a vacation badly, so there were a ton of things I overlooked while we were in CA...things like the time where I had to walk back to the hotel by myself at 4:00 AM because he "didn't hear his phone," "didn't know I was leaving" even though I told him that directly, and his "phone was dead." When he had stated for the whole two months we'd know each other that drugs are bad and he didn't do drugs, etc, but he had no issues taking a joint from a random stranger on the sidewalk. I think I slapped him at that point. I really don't remember. I know there was a lot of yelling about how I had trusted him and let him move in *with my children* and how he didn't have enough respect for me to actually be honest with me about things.
I remember not wanting to be around him much while we were in San Diego because a) he was all mopey and ridiculous b) he had to constantly pick stupid little fights with me about everything and c) I wasn't allowed to get angry about anything, like the multiple times he ditched me and wouldn't answer his phone or respond to texts. "My phone was dead" was a pretty common excuse, but there were phone chargers all over the place at HQ, so I didn't really believe that either. I found that I was much happier hanging out with my friends when he wasn't around anyway. We went up to LA after HQ and he continued to be his douchey self on pretty much every level, then doing something small to make up for it so I would be temporarily happy.
When we got home, I should have told him to move out. I didn't. I had to move my kids out of the house that the ex and I bought because it was being auctioned off since the ex never wanted to resolve anything with the bank and I wasn't on the loan so they refused to talk to me. Anyway, the new loser and I started looking for a place. House prices here are ridiculous and there was no way I could afford anything big enough for my family on what I make plus what I receive in child support. I needed a roommate, so I let him stay. My sister was living with us over summer break and went back to college shortly after we moved into this house.
He moved out here and shortly after that we went on a trip to SDCC and Nerd HQ in San Diego. The trip had been planned for another friend (yes, just a friend), that had to cancel, so it was just a matter of switching the names on the plane tickets. My sister and my mom and her fiance watched the kids while we were gone. I needed a vacation badly, so there were a ton of things I overlooked while we were in CA...things like the time where I had to walk back to the hotel by myself at 4:00 AM because he "didn't hear his phone," "didn't know I was leaving" even though I told him that directly, and his "phone was dead." When he had stated for the whole two months we'd know each other that drugs are bad and he didn't do drugs, etc, but he had no issues taking a joint from a random stranger on the sidewalk. I think I slapped him at that point. I really don't remember. I know there was a lot of yelling about how I had trusted him and let him move in *with my children* and how he didn't have enough respect for me to actually be honest with me about things.
I remember not wanting to be around him much while we were in San Diego because a) he was all mopey and ridiculous b) he had to constantly pick stupid little fights with me about everything and c) I wasn't allowed to get angry about anything, like the multiple times he ditched me and wouldn't answer his phone or respond to texts. "My phone was dead" was a pretty common excuse, but there were phone chargers all over the place at HQ, so I didn't really believe that either. I found that I was much happier hanging out with my friends when he wasn't around anyway. We went up to LA after HQ and he continued to be his douchey self on pretty much every level, then doing something small to make up for it so I would be temporarily happy.
When we got home, I should have told him to move out. I didn't. I had to move my kids out of the house that the ex and I bought because it was being auctioned off since the ex never wanted to resolve anything with the bank and I wasn't on the loan so they refused to talk to me. Anyway, the new loser and I started looking for a place. House prices here are ridiculous and there was no way I could afford anything big enough for my family on what I make plus what I receive in child support. I needed a roommate, so I let him stay. My sister was living with us over summer break and went back to college shortly after we moved into this house.
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