As you may recall. I had dropped out of school, received my GED and went to work full-time.
Fat forwarding as some time had passed -after the initial shock of the news set in, I thought I was okay. I spent a lot of time with my boyfriend and his baby girl. I fell in love with her too. She and I would take naps together, joke around as she got older, and it felt like a little family. Her mom took issue with me big time. She started so much drama. I will never understand the jealousy people have simply because you dare to love their child.
This caused rifts between my boyfriend and me. My time with him and his daughter was limited, but in part because she was keeping her from him. Have mercy, that was a horrible time.
I began to long for motherhood. It felt like it came from out of the blue, but I had a taste of what a family might look like with him. I wanted to be a mom and that sort of surprised me because I didn’t think I did. I had even said “I never want kids; I don’t like them”.
I would find myself crying just stocking baby items at work.
By 18, I had moved myself into his apartment that he shared with his brother and sister-in-law. I thought we talked about it, but after we broke up he said I made the decision on my own. He didn’t seem to mind my being there.
For the first couple years we were solid, then I began to have more issues. My mind was in constant motion jumping from one thought to another. “Am I good enough for him?” Does he still want me?” and on and on. Honestly, he never did or said anything wrong. I was losing grip with reality. I was so concerned with not being able to give him another child. He was in his mid-20s, of course he’d want another one someday. I saw how he loved his child; he was a good dad.
I remember being in total denial. The doctors can be wrong, that does happen. They simply made a mistake. I refused reality.
I heard about the power of manifestation once. If you believe hard enough you could speak things into existence. I made that my goal.
Every day I would “feel” pregnancy symptoms, then I’d have weird cravings and I eventually looked pregnant. Literally-I had convinced my mind of a new reality.
As I look back on this time I am heartbroken for that girl and the help she didn’t receive.
One day, as we were eating at CiCi’s Pizza, I work up the nerve to tell my (then) boyfriend “I think I’m pregnant” then proceed to show him how rounded and solid my stomach was.
He called his mother and told her. He was confused, and I am pretty sure in hindsight his tone was completely void of enthusiasm.
He took me to my mother, who was at work, to tell her. She called the doctor because I told my mom I took a test, and it was positive.
The doctor told her to make me do it in front of her.
I was so mad that my mom did not believe me and dared to question what I said. And the look she gave me. The look of helplessness because she knew better, but she was swimming in new waters too without a life raft.
I was really just spiraling after that. I cried so many tears.
Everywhere I would look I would see all the pregnant woman, like the universe was torturing me.
How can so many women be pregnant at once?
I’m not sure what totally pulled me off the ledge. I eventually accepted that I wasn’t going to be pregnant. I wouldn’t accept the rest.
The boyfriend tried. He really did. I was becoming angry and volatile. I was toxic before it was trending. (which, by the way, it isn’t cute. If you recognize toxic traits in yourself, please work on that)
We moved into our own place. I accused him of cheating. I accused him of more than he deserved. I threw stuff and yelled. I was not nice. I was broken and I have never been so broken in my life.
It wasn’t all bad all the time, but too many times.
He married me when I was 20, we got divorced before I was 21. And my heart shattered again.
I was losing him, his child, his family. I was losing so many people I had grown to love, but I am certain they made the decision I was too much to deal with anymore.
I was angry. I stayed angry, bitter, mean and vowed to never shed another tear. I hardened my heart to the point of keeping that vow for many years.
By the time I was 21 I was in the bar more than I was out of it.
Alcohol leads to no good road.
I’m going to tell you how my life was in ruins, but just how I was pulled out of the pit…
❤️😊✝️