After the doctor’s appointment we all went to the store. I was tired but I was dealing with it. My boyfriend wanted to have one of his mini parties, which consisted of grilling, drinking, and dominoes.
The drive home from the store was filled with laughter and smiles. I felt good. I was able to give him the one thing that he wanted, a child. The due date was November 12th or a couple days before if they decided to induce labor early. I was fine with the date. My son was born on November 30th. I found it interesting that both my babies were going to have the same birth month.
Our mutual best friend was overly excited for both of us, mainly because his birthday is on November 12th. If the baby came on his birthday, I’m assuming that it would be the best gift that anyone could give him. He was already the godfather of her hands down. I prayed harder that it was a girl, because if we had another son then I may never see the child again.
Once we got back to the house the off loading of the car began. The grill and table was set up on the porch. I remember watching my boyfriend in the face and asking him if he was okay. He was acting okay but something about him was a little off. Our conversation in the kitchen went a little like this:
Me: Are you okay?
Me: What do you want to do?
Him: It’s up to you…
Me: Well, we’re having a baby. I don’t believe in abortions and my experience with adoption wasn’t amazing. I’d rather not have our child go through that. I’m excited about this.
I was excited but yet still I had a lot off stuff to get done. All of which included finding a bigger apartment, telling my parents, pulling in more income, and being able to not crack under stress. My pregnancy already started out with a bang. I wanted the next seven and a half months to go by smoothly.
I looked at my boyfriend because I thought I made the right decision. It was something that he told me not to worry about. He said he loved me countless times and showed it over and over again. He was there when I needed him and when I didn’t. He said he wanted this more than anything. Why is it that in the moments that I’m looking at him that I find I could not breathe? I felt like everything was a mistake? I pushed my fears down because I was most likely overreacting. I had nothing to worry about….right?
Me: What do you want to do?
Him: I guess we keeping “it”.
Me: Babe? What’s wrong? Tell me what you want? What do you want to do?
Him: You ain’t giving me no other choice.
I may have stopped breathing for a minute and just like that he was gone. He went outside with his friend and and I went to the bathroom. After closing the door, I leaned against it and looked at the floor. His words hurt me on a deeper level, more than he would ever know. There was no regret or remorse. It wasn’t only the words he used but it was how it said it. There was so much anger behind it that I could feel the malice. I wanted to disappear but I couldn’t. I wiped the few tears that fell and went outside. I made myself enjoy the party.
Over the next couple of days everything was different. He wasn’t the same person he was before the pregnancy. I didn’t have morning sickness but I did have exhaustion and nausea. The nausea was the worse part. I didn’t complain. I couldn’t. I didn’t think he cared to know.
I kept replaying the conversation in my head over and over again. It must have been my fault. I should have given him a break or waited for him to come around. I was open to any other answer than I wasn’t giving him a choice. No one knew how bad I felt. It made me feel like I was ruining his life by saying I wanted to have the baby. I thought it was what he wanted. The last thing I wanted to do was force him to do something like this. I was forced into it and it nearly destroyed me. Here it it is now that I’m basically doing the same thing to him.
I remember the night we made love under the candles and music. I remember the fear I felt after and the tears that I shed when I confessed that I couldn’t do it alone. I was petrified of my father. My father had so much control over me that I was so afraid to move out because his trumph card was taking away my son. He did it once before and I didn’t want him to do it again. I remember how he looked at me and said he would never let it happen. How he kissed my stomach and said he would love our child. The way he kissed me when the tears started to fall. The way he comforted me and made me promises. The way he convinced me to move in with him whether or not I did become pregnant. When he wiped away my tears and looked me in the eyes saying, “I Love You.” Where was that person now? He changed his mind…He didn’t want it anymore.
He became distant. He started drinking more and partying. I noticed and I couldn’t argue. He kept telling me that everything was okay when it wasn’t. I went to my second doctor’s appointment by myself. Much like my first pregnancy the depression started to kick in. I felt so alone and I was so scared. I kept wondering what I had gotten myself into.
It took me almost two years to tell him that I loved him. It took just as long for me to introduce him to my son. In the beginning of our relationship, every time he looked to touch me I either jumped or ran. Between the beatings the beating that my ex before handed to me and the ones my dad dished out just because, I was an emotional wreck.
I told him everything about me. I told him how I grew up and why I was the way that I was. I told him about my son and the incident that occurred. I told him how scary my pregnancy was and how I wanted nothing more than to end it all. He took it all in stride and said, ” The things I went through before didn’t define me. He would stand up to my father if he ever had too. He would always fight for us.” Still now in the present day, he was absent. His words back then were just words. There was no security or comfort. Every time I tried to bring the baby up he would talk about it for a little while then disappear or go to sleep. One minute he would be the person I wanted him to be and the next he wasn’t.
He said he would come with me to speak to the lawyers about the custody battle referring to my son and he never came. Anything regarding big decisions he wasn’t present too. I don’t think he realized that I was choosing him above all else. Telling my father I was pregnant meant that I would be disowned from my family and that he would take me to court for my son.
My father is very powerful. If he doesn’t want something to be it will not be. Being over twenty four didn’t matter to him as long as had control. He got a judge and police offers to take my son away from me just to prove a point. Simply to show me he can because they owed him a favor. I don’t think he realized how much I stood to lose and how much this would damage a lot of people. I didn’t want to bring this down on anyone, including his family.
I cried myself to sleep every night because I didn’t know what to do. I kissed my son good night wondering if this would be the last night I’d ever see him. I was so afraid that someone from the office would tell him congratulations on your next grandchild. The depression started to get worse and I kept it at bay by pretending that everything was okay. I cooked and cleaned. I got stuff and started to pack away things for my son first then myself. I still had the intentions to move out but I just had to do it quietly.
I calculated my funds and bills. I had one job that paid well. I figured if I picked up a second job that I could work straight down to the due date like I did with my first pregnancy. I would bring all my ideas to my boyfriend and his response would be something like that could work. I’ll get another job too. However, nothing on his part changed. I was the one doing all the work and planning. The more I turned to him the more I realized how alone I was in the pregnancy….
© Hikari Aie
To Be Continued…
Day Four: The Appointment
Day Two: The Ultrasound