Tag Archives: Coping

Hello December


Hello to yet another beautiful day in the world and one day closer to my son’s birth. One of very few shimmering lights in my world right now.

These last few days should have been relaxing and enjoyable as everyone stuffed their tummies full to breaking points and remembered the people they love most and those they are most thankful for in their lives. While my family did just that I sat inside my head screaming and slamming my head into that poor, severely dented wall wondering why in the world it was so hard for one particular man child (no man I know would act this way) to be there for his child and hold to his word, keep his promises, and simply tell the truth when things did not go his way.

He allowed me to believe, for however fleeting the moment was, that he was gaining responsibility and opening his eyes to the life we were bringing into the world. I believed for one-eighth of a millisecond that he was going to follow through on something for the first time since I have met him. I thought with him stepping up, I could actually provide my baby boy with his first Christmas and show my parents how much I appreciate their help and support, but even one-eighth of a millisecond was too long. He was simply doing the two-step I should expect and know all too well. I had even told myself and had been told by my former therapist, “Expect to expect nothing of him.” I do not know why I slipped.

As those I loved unbuttoned their pants to allow more room to breathe, watched Christmas specials, and broke out the Holiday decorations, I ran block on myself. Running to my room or the bathroom to catch the tears of anger and frustration that forced their way out. Tears that held the words of hurt I long to hurl at him for the pain he causes me but do not dare to share with him, then washing those words off my face and painting on a smile in their place, standing up straight and walking out to the Christmas tree with my head held high.

It feels overwhelmingly difficult most days, I wonder how I will possibly do this for the rest of our son’s life without landing myself into some sort of trouble because I’ll have no tongue left to bite. Due to my son’s father’s inability to think of anyone other than himself, I do not get to buy my son his first Christmas gift. I am now on maternity leave and here in the “Land of the Free” there is no paid maternity leave offered for those expecting. I had my last shift taken from me and will only have three hours for two weeks on this last check, if I am lucky, at minimum wage, no less. But at least I have a few cards up my sleeves. After this ordeal to get money he owes his son, he still believes I will not go through the proper channels for child support. He believes me to be an airheaded bimbo who cannot think or act for herself and believes the lies he tells with nothing to show for it. He believes I will lay down to be his doormat; allowing him to pay what he wants, when he wants, and visit as he pleases. I will allow him to think this of me, it will only be that much more of a surprise when he realizes all the lies I caught him in and that I am not so naïve to simply sit back and allow him to treat his son anyways he pleases.

He had been warned and given plenty of opportunities. “You’re either in his life or you’re not. We are not your swinging door or your doormats. I will not allow you to come and go in DC’s life as you please and break his heart.” He thinks because he is the father I cannot see to just that. I am done playing Mr. Nice-Guy. I’ve cried too much for my son over these last nine and a half months and I refuse to see those same tears, filled with words he cannot bring himself to say, on my son’s face as he gets older. I AM DONE! I have reached my limit, he WILL NOT hurt my baby. I do not give a shit who he is because as far as I am concerned, just because he shares my son’s DNA it does not magically make him a daddy. My distaste for my child’s donor runs deeper than I could have ever imagined it could run for anyone.

Dear God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change; courage the change the things I can; and the wisdom to know the difference. Amen

A Delusionary Love Story: The Conclusion


Part 1

Part 2

People often feel as though certain events are their fault or were avoidable. It can be easy to go back and think, “If only…”

If only I had listened to that little voice inside my head.
If only I had paid attention to that gut retching feeling.
If only I hadn’t answered my phone.
If only I hadn’t gotten in that car.
If only I had listened to everyone’s characterization of him.

You’ll kill yourself with the “if only’s.” And if that doesn’t drive you straight to death it will easily drive you mad, at the very least. Find help and support, that is the only way.

The next morning I woke up, not at home like I had intended and wholeheartedly planned. No, I woke up next to this “friend,” puke beside this bed and a migraine from hell. I was so confused.

“Why am I hungover? I didn’t get drunk. Why the hell is the sun out? What happened to that time? Just a second ago it was 3am. What time is it now? SEVEN A.M.!? What the hell? Where am I and why isn’t this MY room?”

This was just a few of the thoughts that ran through my head as I was being shaken awake and led to a car and driven home, he never said a word. It was then I realized, he never got another bottle. He never had any intention of grabbing another bottle or taking me home that night. And worst of all, he won.

He pulled in the drive way of my house and my parents had both already left for work. I was scared, worried, and hurt. Usually when I leave without telling them, especially in the middle of the night and they see I’m not home the next morning (which was every other time I had slept at a friends house without giving them a heads up), they blow up my phone with text messages, phone calls, and voicemails until they reach me. But I hadn’t even gotten so much as a “have a good day, sweetie” from my dad. Something was wrong with everything, but good god, my head had never been foggier in my life. I needed more sleep. So I dragged myself inside and collapsed on my bed without bothering to change my clothes and slept into the afternoon.

Seven hours later, I woke up. Still with a headache but no migraine. I had more of myself. I got up to go freshen myself up, “maybe it’ll help me feel better,” I thought.

I don’t know if guys get this feeling the day after they’ve had sex, where even if they didn’t remember it they know something happened, but ladies do. Something is just different about your body. Especially when you haven’t been active. After all, Mr. Love and I were trying to work things out; even if we weren’t “official” it would just be rude to be with someone else while he’s fighting for my freedom during our reconciliation. (My family is greatly influenced by the military and has a vast military background, I got respect.)

So as I made my way to my bathroom; again I had this feel that something just WASN’T right. My body felt…used. Then I noticed the shorts I was wearing under my long pants were ripped. “What happened? When I last used the bathroom at ‘friend’s’ house they were in perfect condition.” I stood there in utter bewilderment as I watched the buttons that fastened the shorts fall to the floor. All were there but one, that one is still missing to this day.

I never cried so hard in my life. I felt broken. No, more than broken. I felt trashed and filthy. I felt such a confusion I never faced before. My head was swimming again. There was no way he could have done what I thought he did. He couldn’t. He was my best friend. He would never. I trusted him.


I, then, did a series of things that are not advised. I took the hottest shower in my life and scrubbed my skin raw (not ideal for rape kits to be properly performed). Afterwards, I went to my other best friend’s house. I cried in her living room as I explained the events I could recall. I know that although it was my responsibility to take the proper measures to protect myself and take myself to the hospital, I was just too scared. I thought, like many victims, that it was my fault. That I brought it on myself. But Mrs. Friend didn’t help to convince me otherwise. A month to the day later, we had an explosive argument that would have gotten physical had it not been for two guys grabbing us both and separating us. My therapist helped me later by looking into that situation.

“If a friend had come to you in the state you had gone to her, what would you have done? I believe your outburst was repressed anger towards her for not doing what a friend should have done.” She stated.

Mrs. Friend’s solution to the issue at hand was not to talk me through my pain and help me find help but to hand me a cigarette, a valium, and a joint. That day I couldn’t bring myself to show my face at school. Plus, I didn’t trust myself to handle a knife in a kitchen with gas stoves while I was high as kite so instead I went to a party. Where my life began to find comfort in weed, pills, and alcohol.

Two weeks later, after I had been avoiding Mr. Love’s calls on Skype, I finally confessed to him what happened. Accompanied by my confession, I told him I wanted nothing to do with him. That I wanted him out of my life for good. I wouldn’t say why, just that I didn’t “feel single.” I will regret this day and these words more than anything else that happened. He was the only one that believed me and still believes me. To this day it kills me that I could have done this. Even if we are talking now, because I shattered his heart and now I fight for a love I am not sure I can ever get back.

A couple of weeks after shutting Mr. Love out of my life I continued to spiral. I made poor decisions, one of them being sleeping with a guy I had been partying with, Mr. Flip-Flop. I don’t recall any real desire to be with him. Or anyone else for that matter. But I thought I could gain a piece of myself back. I believed doing this on my terms, I could take back what was stolen from me.

The only thing I gained was pregnancy.

Although, now I can say, it was this baby that saved my life. If it weren’t for him I would have never gone out to seek professional help, I did this for him. I never would have quit smoking or popping pills and probably would have continued to drive drunk with all hopes and intentions that a tree would jump in front of my car. Even though at the time, pregnancy was the very last thing I wanted I wouldn’t change it. He is my everything and without him I probably wouldn’t be sitting here writing this.

This is my conclusion to a story that started with an entirely different intention. But I’m glad I got this out. It hurts to think about it again, yes. But I pray it can help one of you out there that might stumble upon this. Do what I was too afraid to do. Be stronger than I was. And don’t let it ruin the love of your life, instead let that love help you. Don’t shut him out.

Mostly Exclusive for Fellow Single Mothers New to Pregnancy


If you recently discovered you are pregnant and were not planning for children, you may be sitting in front of your computer wondering, “WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON WITH MY BODY!?” It is a tremendous change that few will understand and can make you feel entirely isolated from everyone around you. It is a very lonely feeling that can rarely be explained to those who have no clear understanding of what pregnancy really is or what it does. It isn’t simply a baby growing in your uterus. In fact, no part of pregnancy is simple. Most days it feels like nothing but pure luck if you are even able to make it out of bed. The life is literally sucked out of you. However, that is normal. The best way I found it described was a section in What to Expect When You’re Expecting by Heidi Murkoff in Chapter 19 – Fathers Are Expectant Too. (After all, I am going to be playing the role of mom AND dad to my child so why not read this section as well, right?) This is a good way to explain it to other people who try to compare their exhaustion to yours; it shuts them up pretty quick and has them use that noodle of theirs they probably don’t exercise enough.

Exhaustion. If you think YOU’RE tired at the end of the day, think about this: Your spouse expends more energy lying down on the sofa building a baby than you do bodybuilding at the gym. Which makes her a lot more tired than you’ve ever known her to be – and a lot more tired than you can even imagine. So pick up the slack. And your slacks. And the trail of socks and sneakers in the hallway. Beat her to the vacuuming and the dusting and the laundry and the toilet cleaning.

Let us not forget the many other troublesome symptoms. Hold out, ladies, once you make it to the second trimester things will once again seem ALMOST normal. Only almost because you’ll start to find your abdomen bulging slightly more every day and finally begin to feel kicks and flips and find yourself crying less. You are still hormonal but it is not nearly as bad as it was in the first trimester.

However, let’s not get ahead of ourselves quite yet. After all, that seems to be a lifetime away when you’re doing what you can to get by and forced to take everything one day at a time. The emotions can be overwhelming. Especially if you are like me and many other women who had to also cope with depression. This is also very normal; it can also be common in women who were trying to become pregnant. You’re creating a new life and half the worries of doing so do not seem real or fathomable until that PT pops positive. It is difficult going out on a day-to-day basis forced to paint a smile on your face and appear excited about a pregnancy you may now be feeling unsure of. I learned quickly that if you showed anything but absolute joy about your pregnancy, you are thought of as a monster in some people’s eyes. Literally, a monster! You are not! You are only feeling normal emotions that come with pregnancy. I cannot stress that enough.

Emotions can be a wild ride at this point. I found myself crying ALL. THE. TIME. I would literally wake up crying. You will never find yourself crying more in your life then in your first trimester, at least I didn’t anyways. Hopefully, your pregnancy is considerably drier than mine was at the beginning. For two weeks straight before I knew I was pregnant I cried every day, looking back now at those dates that wasn’t long at all after I conceived. Possibly a week at most; I felt symptoms immediately. I blamed them all on PMS, sure that I was going to start in the next week or so. When my friend never came, it only got worse. There are times these emotions feel uncontrollable. Just standing at work, icing cupcakes and out of the blue, BAM, a flood of tears that must remain hidden from your boss because she does not know you are pregnant yet and she still has not put you on the payroll and the last thing you need is to lose your job over pregnancy. Just wait till you’re in class though, crying your eyes out over nothing in particular and two seconds later find yourself being woken up by your professor.

Most days this feels endless and is not all you will feel throughout your first trimester. Be sure to go throughout your day reminding yourself that it WILL get better and don’t forget to turn to your supporters that DO understand and/or comprehend what pregnancy REALLY is. Having someone to turn to will feel, some days, lifesaving.

Stay tuned for the exceptional symptoms of your upcoming second trimester. Look forward to a new world of problems to worry about: proper footwear to support the swelling of your feet, what bras are most comfortable to wear, why are my clothes shrinking, and many more.

**ATTENTION: Please speak with your doctor about your depression so s/he can assess if further action must be taken before it becomes too serious. Do not forget to mention any feelings, desires, or thoughts of suicide, however slight. These could be signs of pre-partum depression. Make yourself health for baby, even if it is an unexpected pregnancy. A child may be an accident but they are never a mistake.

P.S. Shows to avoid while in the early stages of pregnancy to prevent flooding your current occupied space: anything involving a pregnant woman. 1: she will NEVER be as big as you feel. 2: her labor is only a fraction of how long yours will probably last and it’s just scary to watch if you’re already afraid of going into labor. 3: she’s always full of energy. This list could continue. Raising Hope is a funny show to watch though, even though *SPOILER* her mom dies but you don’t see her enough to become attached and she’s a murder anyways. Only watch comedies.