The story of my 2nd child and first son.
His father and I met on the afore-mentioned MUD, and were members of the same “family”. We talked a good bit, and he challenged me with: “Here’s the link to my local newspaper. Apply for one and only one job. If you get it, you were meant to move. I’ve talked to my friend, and you can stay with us for 2 weeks while you find an apartment and get settled in.”
I got the job, moved 4 states away from my family, and got settled in. He and I got….cozy….and before too long I was knocked up higher than a kite. He wasn’t crazy about having a baby, and said as much. We discussed, we argued, and in the end he agreed to “try” being a parent. As any good Star Wars fan can tell you – “Do, or do not. There is no try.” He graduated from tech school, and I quit my job to be a stay-at-home mom. He got a job which required a move of over 1000 miles. Neither of us handled the move well. In the course of 3 years things got worse and worse between us. I got pregnant again–he said he didn’t want more children and for me to get rid of it. I lost the baby. I got depressed, he was obscenely OK with the loss of the baby. It got to where I couldn’t function – only sit in front of the computer, hoping someone ANYONE of my online “associates” would realize how wrong things were for/with me and help me.
I planned a 2 week vacation (more on that vacation later) to visit friends and let him see if he missed us. We had something of a “last hurrah” before I left. I called him to let him know we arrived safely. He brushed me off the phone. I called to let him know I missed him. He was glad to be in the house alone. 30 minutes after we walked in the door, he said “I’m glad you’re home safely, but when are you leaving again?” I cooked Thanksgiving dinner and gave us all food poisoning. It took me aeons to get over it. I got what I thought was a severe fluid buildup in my ears. I was so dizzy that I couldn’t lift my head off the sofa without vomiting. I told myself that I’d go to the doctor if I ran a fever or started getting congested, but never did. I got better, but still didn’t clean as well as I should have. I started packing our things to leave him….I decided that I wasn’t going to clean, but concentrate on getting packed up. I relapsed with the fluid again, followed by severe depression. Fate gave me the kick in the pants in the form of a county official who came to check for code violations. He took pictures of our apartment and gave me 24 hours to clean it up. I stayed up until 2 AM that night cleaning what I could and getting the packed boxes corraled in one area. I lay down at 2 thinking I should get some sleep, but couldn’t sleep – my mind wouldn’t shut off. He came home from work at 7 AM – I told him I hadn’t slept and what had happened. He laughed and said I worry too much. I called my parents and had them get me and the children plane tickets and was on my way back home less than 24 hours later.
Later on, I realized…..I left him on the day that the lost baby was due.