He had second thoughts around November. He left a post it note pad on the counter when he went to work with two numbers on it. Both were abortion clinics. He came home for lunch looking really down and depressed. He said we couldn't do it. We couldn't afford it, we weren't stable enough. He could have said anything, I had decided when I started my car in the parking lot that day that I was having a baby. I would do it alone if I needed to, but I was doing it.
I told him as much.
He wasn't happy any more.
Christmas Eve of 2001 was the most miserable of Christmas Eves. We fought for hours. Never yelling. Just calm horrible arguing. Saying awful things to and about each other. There was lots of crying. I went to the bathroom and when I came out he had the box with all of the cards and letters we had given to each other. All the pictures we had taken together and he was feeding them all, one at a time, to the fire. I ran over and pulled a few things out and took what I had saved away. He could be so mean sometimes. Just plain mean.
I slept on the floor in the living room that night. For the few hours of sleep that I managed and the next morning the kids came down to open gifts and see what Santa had brought and I was so drained and so sad. It was one of those times where you have to put on a good face for your kids and be miserable inside.
I knew that day that I was going to leave him.
When he apologized Christmas night, I forgave him. But I wouldn't spend another Christmas exhausted and pretending to be happy.
I withdrew and he noticed. He went out of his way to show me he was sorry. He bought roses and baby rattles and jewelry. He said all of the right things and he did all of the right things and I am sure he was pulling out his what women want book at night and wondering why I wasn't responding the way I had before.
The reason was simple.
I didn't believe him any more. It was all fluff. All of the things he had said to me and that I had believed were just lines, just persuasions to keep me there. And he was just barely feeding me enough of them to keep me from leaving. It wasn't love for him, it was a game. And while I had been his, while I had loved him and wanted him and stayed with him, he had regarded me as a plaything. Something that he could control and placate as necessary. He didn't love me, at least not the way I wanted to be loved.
So, I played along. I kept the peace. I lost my job and got another and pretended that everything was ok. No one knew I was pregnant. At work, I wore a vest and I was five months along before my coworkers started asking questions. That was right around the time that Emilee told my mom on the phone that she was going to have a baby brother or sister.
The thing about it was that I had managed to locate my spine and I wasn't that girl who wanted to hide from everything. I ignored my mother and her underlying tones of disappointment. I was getting my own place in April.
I had an ace up my sleeve. I knew when I filed my taxes that I would be getting about four grand back. NY knew that too but he thought I was still waiting on my last W2. However, in March my money was nicely deposited into a bank account and I was looking for a place to live. In March, I told him I was leaving him. I doubt he was surprised since we had fallen back into another slump and were merely coexisting anyway. He pulled further away. He was doubtful that I would leave since I had already said I was going to twice and stayed. It was just my crying wolf as far as he was concerned. At least until all of my things were boxed up and loaded into the back of a truck. Then it was pretty serious and he wouldn't speak to me.
I was almost seven months pregnant and unemployed when I rented a three bedroom place in a small town near San Antonio. With barely any furniture and only four thousand dollars to my name, I left him and any security that I had with him. I worked out a deal to have Ruthie move in and my mom and her husband would pay three hundred dollars a month to me for letting her stay there.
I knew I couldn't get a job outside of my home. No one hires a chic that is months away from popping out a baby. My old job begged me to come back but the drive was too far for the money. So I was very careful. I only bought what we had to have and paid the bills. That was it. It was a difficult transition at first because when NY and I were together we made really good money and now I was broke. But it was a small price to pay for my independence.
I sent him a letter. How old fashioned huh? My computer hadn't been unpacked yet and I wanted to keep in contact. He didn't respond. I started going to the doctor regularly and getting my check ups and they weren't good. Trin went an entire month without gaining any weight. They were saying she may have a vitamin deficiency disorder. They were saying they would need to take her early and that she may have problems. In short they were scaring me to death. I emailed him and he was ugly and mean.
He accused me of having someone else's child and said that he more or less wanted nothing to do with me until he had a paternity test. And how I would be humiliated and feel like the whore that I basically was when I stood in court and heard that it wasn't even his child. He was mean. And I was so emotional that it cut me to the bone to read his words.
The doctors kept saying it wasn't any better and I was freaking out. I called Tempest and cried on her shoulder. My baby wasn't ok. How was that even possible? I didn't know until after Trin was born but Tempest contacted NY and told him what a phenomenal ass he was being and that I wasn't trying to get attention or whatever the hell it was that he thought but rather that it was all true and that I was scared shitless.
A few days later, I got an email from him. He said he was sorry and skeptical but that he wanted to be there for me and the baby. He wanted to know how she was and how I was and he wanted to help. And he did. He decided he wanted to be there when she was born, much to my mother's disbelief and horror. She had let on that she never liked him months before and the idea of sharing the delivery room with him was... less than appealing.
He and I talked about names but he basically knew that it was my call considering that he was pulling the I'm-not-sure-if-it's-mine card. I chose Trinity because it means third in a set of three which was perfect for both of us. I changed the Y to an I because Amanda has three A's and Emilee has three E's and now Triniti would have three I's. It all balanced out and made sense to me. And so Triniti it was.
And she was fine.
All six pounds and eight ounces of her.
She came into my world absolutely perfect. And she was my last as they rolled me off into surgery minutes after she was born to tie my tubes. I was officially out of the baby making business.
I started working shortly after she was born, doing anything I could get my hands on. I cleaned houses and did paperwork for the computer-impaired. I was trying to make as much as I could while still being at home with Trin. NY visited frequently and spent a lot of time with Trin. WE didn't discuss money. I was waiting for the paternity test results before I asked for help financially. I'm stubborn like that.
So he hung out a lot, especially while the boys were in New York for the summer. He helped out with the girls and kept me company and we were friends. I truly believe that we could have been good friends.
Now, you have to read this story before I continue. It happened here, in the middle of NY's story.
next...
Labels: History Lesson
