Sunday, August 8, 2010

Eight Years 1

...on this day was my due date. I went in for my regular check-up. I was measuring two weeks ahead by this time, so had another ultrasound. My ultrasound showed him to be weighing about 7lbs 8oz. My doctor was going to give me another three days to go into labor on my own before he induced me. None of us expected that it would take another 2 inductions - for a total of 3 - over the course of the next 18 days before I would get to hold my little big man with the help of a cesarean.

Edited to add the ugly side...because I promised myself I would quit hiding all the details....

The dead-beat that I was married to at the time started in on his criticism and degrading of me for this. Told me that real women go into labor on their own, that I was being lazy and the like. He went out that afternoon to go to work, did not get home until almost 5am, drunker than snot. During that evening I spent a lot of time walking the staircases and halls- we lived on the 3rd floor of an apartment building, that was designed like a nice hotel- so there were plenty of stairs and halls. I missed one of his phone calls during my walk, so when he finally got home, three hours after last call, I was apparently the one screwing around on him.

I ended up thankful that night that he was extremely drunk when he walked in. He passed out while in the middle of his outburst, crashed through a wall, and slept there all night... The next morning I moved the large solid oak entertainment center over to cover the hole in the wall, as well as the rest of the furniture in the living room to make it less obvious. I was 12 hours from friends and family that had already turned their back on me...believing me to be as immoral as the dead-beat had made me out to be.

Stay tuned over the next few weeks for the rest of the story....

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