I am on leave from work in the jewelry district.
I am pregnant with his son.
He has left me again.
I cannot afford the apartment & raising 3 sons on my own. I had to make tough choices after he explained he would not live with me. I am sure his version is different, but those facts remain. I think about packing up another apartment filled with memories of him. He told me he loved me here. We conceived a son here.
I begin to wonder, have moments of doubt. Was there a morsel of truth in it? Ever? Was anything ever true? These last moments in that house were not easy.
Doubting the Universe leaves a a knot in my chest.
Not the way to go.
Tears came easily while I was pregnant with Matthew.
I hadn’t cried in at least 8 years.
It is about this time that I realize, my 2 sons have never seen me cry.
Well, I realized it when Mark looked at over me in shock while we sat on the couch together. I was crying at some random commercial. Something that was “okay” to cry about. Not anything that actually revealed a vulnerability. It was all the same to my kids, they had never seen a tear fall.
Not my finest hour.
I had inadvertently been modeling a behavior I do not like in others.
Being vulnerable is an asset.
I am vulnerable, I just DO NOT show it.
I need to be raising men who see this quality as a positive.
I vow to do better.
My family came & helped me pack the last of the apartment when I was 8 months pregnant. They took me to Santa Cruz to have my son. I stayed in the mountains for a couple weeks before I gave birth. He emailed me a few days before our son was born.
It was a picture of one of his best qualities, if you catch my drift...
All it said was “Too Bad”
This was the father of my son.
He had left me at 3 months pregnant (he says I left him, we always explode in the end, it's hard to say honestly).
While it certainly wasn't what I was expecting, I can't say I felt differently.
I was not as offended as most would think I should be.
And right here is a perfect example of our dynamic.
I didn’t even think to touch on this until I had seen it typed out.
The outside world would easily take my side if I chose to be the victim in this moment.
Messaging me a dick pic 2 days before I gave birth to his son.
This is pretty cut & dry.
I can take the bait & paint him as a fucking asshole.
I have the moral high ground.
He is the trash who has moved on to another redhead, emailing me dick pics at 10:30pm. That poor girl.
I can paint this how it was.
What I knew in my heart to be true.
He was thinking of us.
Far be it from me to judge him for thinking about the insanity we are capable of in the bedroom.
That certainly was a huge loss, no question.
This was his way of reaching out to get a reaction. Regardless of the way he was doing it.
My heart was fucked.
*I* knew this, but would anyone ever understand if I reached out to him after a late nite dick pic to fix things with the man who had left me pregnant & was with another woman?
The Universe loved presenting me with these low hanging fruit.
“Are you going to take the bait?” She always wondered.
Taking the bait or choosing to explain how this man was a good person, was always part of my lesson.
I didn’t learn that one until a couple weeks ago.
So, here, in 2014, guess what?
My pride put him in the corner.
I will keep up appearances.
Despite the fact that it wasn't the perfect correspondance, actually that is not exactly true...
It was not the correspondance the world would be accepting of under the circumstances....That's better.
So, I wore my pride & said "it's not good enough", knowing in that moment there was an opening on his side of the door.
I did lay my thoughts out for Kat, as per usual.
Knowing what she knew of him, this was a moment I could have utilized better.
I did not.
I took the route where I thought of what everyone else would think of my decision.
I took the bait.
I played the victim & painted him as an asshole.
It was getting so so old to do this.
The truth is we loved each other.
No matter how either of us behaved, or how we painted each other to those around us.
We were masters at painting each other as crazy fucks.
I had cold hard facts to back me up.
It felt wrong, unfair.
We are both lovely people, really.
I had Matthew 2 days later.
Labor came quickly, with little warning & by the time I had let everyone know, it’s NOW NOW NOW! Only one person made it in time.
The doctor asked if I would like my aunt in the room.
I wanted this moment to be mine.
In life, I have people hold my hand a lot.
I wanted to know I did this wonderful, miraculous thing on my own.
What a fucking liberating experience.
What an extraordinary thing.
A show of strength, beauty, the bringing of a new soul into this world.
No one held my hand.
It was only me.
The feeling I had after I gave birth to Matthew was unparalleled.
Love, triumph, grace, fucking all of it.
That birth had a way of making me feel indestructible.