Tuesday morning the doc decided that I wasn't dilating, my contractions went away when they stopped the pitocin, etc so he sent me home. I felt devastated and defeated. I was now 4 days overdue, had spent 48 hours in the hospital, and no baby to show for it. Follow-up appointment scheduled for Thursday, if I didn't go into labor on my own. The doc was sure the drugs of the previous two days would help get things started.
I no sooner was dropped off at the door of our apartment complex and the dead-beat left out to go to work. He came home "early" that night. Early meaning he didn't go to the bar after he got done with work....instead he made the silly attempt to hide the alcohol he had brought home. He had a pint of tequila and it was obvious that the two or three shots he had already drank out of the bottle were not the only drinks he had that night - he'd likely drank at least a 6pk while driving home, throwing the bottles at random signs along the road. I attempted to go to bed early - meaning around midnight. I picked up around the apartment, got dressed for bed, went pee for the 900th time that hour, crawled into bed.
About an hour later I decided that I needed some Tylenol for my pounding headache, so walked into the kitchen where I kept it.
The dead-beat followed me in there. He screamed, yelled, and cussed at me about my utter incompetency at being a woman. There were water spots on the faucets, therefore I hadn't actually cleaned the apartment. There were lines in the carpet going every which way, indicating that I did a rushed sloppy job of vacuuming. And the real kicker, he'd wasted a lot of time having to go up to the hospital for me and I didn't even have the baby.
He attacked me with a knife before I was able to get out of the corner he had backed me into. It wasn't the first time he had threatened me, hit me, or come at me, but it was the first time blood was drawn.
I managed to fight my way out of the apartment. Not too terribly easy of a task being overdue, but the deadbeat's inebriated state made it easier. I have a scar now on my upper left shoulder from the ordeal. Back when it was more pronounced I used to tell people that it was a scar from either surgery, a fall, who knows what I told people. That's the glorious thing about a lie...give it enough time and you'll forget what the lie was you told.
I made my way down to the pay phone in the lobby. I called the cops...again. Once again they talked me out of pressing charges..."because of my condition"...once again they denied making the dead-beat give me the keys to one of the two vehicles and $100 for gas - yea, ironic that 8 years ago $100 for gas would get you halfway across the country in a gas guzzler. Once again I was told by the officers that it wasn't advisable under my condition to be driving 600 miles to my mother's place. And yet, once again the officers told me to just not bother him while he was drinking, to let him sleep it off, and everything would be alright in the morning.
So once again I stood there absolutely, utterly defeated. Blood oozing out of my shoulder, five days overdue, and my "prince charming" being nothing more than an abusive prick who can smooth talk anyone, even those who had sworn to protect and serve.
I went in to pee...once again...this time though I caught sight of the small bottle of tequila that was nearly empty...it was tucked up behind the bathroom trashcan. I dumped out the tequila and refilled the bottle with urine. The next day while I was cleaning the bathroom I noticed it still behind the trashcan, but empty this time, the dumbass oblivious to what I had done, drank my urine. I kept up this new "habit" for the next few months...I don't think he ever noticed...I at least never heard about it and I know had he noticed I would of known...
Somethings I found out over the next 6-8 months: Toilet water mixed with some rubbing alcohol worked for vodka. Tea with some rubbing alcohol worked for whiskey. These were just some of my personal secret 'victories' during our last year living together.
The next few days were uneventful. More harassment from the dead-beat, Thursday's doctor's appt again showed no signs of progress. My doctor scheduled me for another induction for the following Sunday, the 18th, unless I went into labor on my own before then. Which I did not. I was 8 days overdue when I went back to the hospital....
~*~*~*~*~There's still more to come~*~*~*~*~
Hey...at least you're just waiting for the rest of the story...I was the one pregnant waiting on the baby. ♥
Hey...at least you're just waiting for the rest of the story...I was the one pregnant waiting on the baby. ♥
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