Love, Light, Bliss and the Plumber

So you saw your Love, your Light, your Bliss last night and it was so very bittersweet. God is he handsome and irresistible, yet somehow (much to his dismay), you managed to resist. He's afraid of losing you and you don't have the heart to tell him that you're already gone; that you're already falling for someone else: the Plumber. 

You met the Plumber through an online dating website and he pretty much swept you off your feet right from day one. He's tall, remarkably handsome, hardworking and goal oriented, and he actually likes you. Alot. But you can't help but feel guilty whenever you're with him.

You want your family with him to work. If you ever believed in soul mates then your Love, your Light, your Bliss has got to be it for you. You both share this bond that is unlike anything you've experienced with anyone else before. You know each other inside and out. You know exactly what makes each other tick, which was both your strong point and your downfall. You could raise each other up when times were good or tear each other down when times were tough. Your greatest asset as a couple was also your greatest weakness. 

Sometimes he was your greatest friend and sometimes he was your worst enemy. At times he gave you the greatest love you've ever felt, yet one time he left you bruised and crying on the floor when you found someone else's g-string in your laundry basket. You don't even remember exactly how you ended up that way. All that you remember is that you came home late after working on your birthday, searched through the laundry basket for something to wear to bed and came across and extra large pink g-string that certainly didn't belong to you. You stormed into the bedroom where he was sleeping and threw the g-string in his face. The rest is a blur. You imagine that you probably hit him and were screaming at him, but he woke up unscathed. You woke up sore and bruised and completely broken inside. 

That recent night that he went on a drunken rampage and was yelling at you and mother seemed like the first step in the cycle towards ending up bruised again, and as much as it tears at your heart, you have to be the one to end the cycle. You couldn't allow him to get too close again for fear that you'll end you'll end up bruised and broken again.

You pray that therapy will heal him and take away all of his pent up anger and anguish. You pray that he learns how to communicate his feelings in a healthy way and that he'll stop drinking. You pray that he can and will change. Only then can you two have the healthy, happy, head-over-heels relationship that you so desperately want for your family. 

For now, you'll keep seeing your new guy, the Plumber, because he treats you like gold and has been nothing but supportive and kind to you, even when you dumped him to get back with your Love, your Light, your Bliss. He understood and wouldn't begrudge another man of his second chance. And when it didn't work out with your Love, your Light your Bliss, the Plumber welcomed you back with open arms.  

You're really starting to have feelings for the Plumber and it scares you, because you don't want to fall out of love with your Love, your Light, your Bliss. You wonder if it's possible to love two people at the time same time. You don't think so, because if you do someone, if not all of you, are getting short changed. 

Only time will tell what will happen with your Love, your Light, your Bliss and the Plumber. You hope that your Love, your Light, your Bliss will change, but you can't build your life around hoping that other people will change. You can only live in the now and deal with the present. And at present your Love, your Light, your Bliss still has the potential to be abusive and is so broken inside, and the Plumber is looking more and more beautiful to you with each passing day, which you know is how it first starts for you when you fall in love. 

You'll pray for a change but for now you'll just try to take it moment by moment and hope that you develop some clarity.

Clarity: you don't even know if you would recognize it anymore. 

Clarity- by Zedd

What does it take to be a good mother

My son woke me up this morning, wanting to read Green Eggs and Ham and I was too tired, too busy, too frazzled to read it to him. I still feel guilt about it now. It has me wondering what it takes to be a good mother.  I feed my kids, clothe them, keep a roof over their head and play with them as much as time and my pathetically low energy will allow but it feels like it's not enough. I need to nurture their creativity; think like they do and try to explore the world the way that they would so that I can relate to them better. Right now I feel like more of a baby sitter than a mother.

 l love my children more than anything in this world, but, simply put, I think I'm just not doing right by them. I don't play with them enough. I don't inspire and encourage their creativity and intellect enough. Some days I simply count down the minutes until they go to bed so that I can get some sleep too. I don't know why I'm so tired or why I have such a hard time relating to them, but it brings me to tears and I fear that I won't change.

Part of it is my self esteem I suppose. I have such a large amount of disdain for myself that I can't seem to enjoy anything: not even the company of my two beautiful and hilarious sons.

Part of it is the stress of being a single mother. I'm afraid to take them anywhere by myself because of just how difficult it is to take out a baby and a five year old. The five year old is pretty self sufficient but the baby (19 months) demands constant watching and attention. The beach, for example, would be a disaster by myself. It's not like I have friends that I could take with me either.

Part of it is the shame from my job. I just don't want to be seen or, God forbid, run into someone that I know and have them ask me what I do for a living. I suppose I could say that I'm a writer, because in my heart of hearts that's what I've always been and that's what I always will be, but I've yet to get paid for what I do so that almost feels like a lie. I will eventually be paid for it. Just not yet.

At the end of the day I suppose I need to just suck it up, deal with being tired, face my fears, and take them out into the world. I wish I could be a better mother. I've always thought wishing was pointless. But this is a wish that I can fulfill. And I will. One way or another, I will.

The end

So you did it. You told your Light, your Love, your Bliss, your Joy that it is over. Your hands were sweating and you couldn't stop crying. You feel like you have failed him. You feel like you have failed yourself. You hope that, somehow, this isn't the end. That maybe your paths will collide again when you are both in better places. 

You can't pinpoint where it all started to go wrong, but you know it had something to do with the constant fighting, which sometimes got abusive both verbally and physically. All of the times that he told you he hated you: all of the times that he told you that you made him miserable and ruined his life: all of the times he brought you down so low that you contemplated suicide. Someone who knew you as well as he did must be a good judge of your character and if he judges you to be depressed, despondent and a bad influence over your own children who are you to argue? 

Granted, your children wouldn't understand at first but surely it's better to have no mother at all than a mother who can't treat you right. They say that we are attracted to people like our parents. You would never want your sons to end up with someone like you. Someone who can't seem to ever be happy no matter what joy life mercifully throws at them. 

But then maybe there is hope for you yet. Maybe telling your Light, your Love, your Bliss that it is over is the beginning of a new and happier you. Maybe you spent so much time trying to be the woman that he wanted that you couldn't be the woman that you simply are. And maybe that woman is beautiful, inside and out and happy. Maybe she will spend less time worrying about a man and more time worrying about achieving her hopes and dreams. 

May you'll be happier someday.

But for now, your Love, your Light, your Bliss is gone and all you can do is cry.

Time to say goodbye, and wow does it hurt

So now it has gone too far. He yelled at your mother. He got drunk and became furious over every little thing imaginable. I couldn't get a word in, and when I could there was nothing to do to deescalate the situation. He said that he left. You waited a few minutes for him to leave and be gone and then you went outside to smoke a cigarette. When you got outside he was still there, crouched on your front step, taking hauls off of a Marlboro.

"What are you doing?" you ask.

And that right there sets him off. Only now he starts yelling. You tell him to stop yelling and he doesn't.

Now keep in mind that it's 2:45 in the morning.

Your mother comes downstairs to tell him to keep it down or go home. He then proceeds to start yelling his point to your mother.

"I know that you blame me for her suicide attempts," was the main point.

You tell him to stop yelling at your mother. Your mother who is currently battling brain cancer. He just doesn't stop yelling. The only thing that stops the yelling is her threatening to call the police. He finally starts to leave, cup of wine in hand, yelling the whole way. You follow him to his car, to show that you care, that you want him to be alright. He gets in his car, still yelling. He says goodbye in a furious manner and then proceeds to somehow smash a plastic cup on the pavement. It's truly a remarkable feat.

He leaves. You call. He screams and swears and you. You don't remember how many times he said, "F*** you" to you. He says that he is done with you and you instantly panic. You beg him to stay. He refuses. You struggle to sleep that night.

You go and see him the next morning and somehow, you work things out. You agree to stay together.

You almost instantly realize that this is a bad decision, but it's too late now. You maintain that you two shouldn't be in a relationship right now, but he acts no differently and it's confusing as all hell. You realize that you are going to have to actually use the words, "We need to break up" for your point to be made and you just don't want to say them because you just don't want to see the hurt on his face. The thought of it breaks your heart. It even brings you to tears. But it has to be done.

All of those years, all of that joy, all of that pain, just all of it was for nothing.

Devil Ruins

When do you reach that point when you can trust someone again after they cheat on you? You’re starting to think you just don’t ever reach that point. Once you find out that he not only cheated, but made plans months in advance to do so, flew across the country to do so, then came back and lied about it, and then had the nerve to try and convince you that you weren’t together when the infidelity happened all in some pathetic attempt to preserve his sense of posterity, it’s pretty difficult to trust just about anything he says or does from that point on. He carried on an entire, illicit, relationship with her and thought you’d never find out. This is the man who claims to “love” you.

He claims he lied because he didn’t want to hurt your feelings. Apparently he preferred for you to get a random Facebook message from the whore he cheated on you with, his supposedly “evil” ex girl friend – at least that’s how he always described her. He was obviously full of sh*t. You have no reason to think that he’s not now. He says that your relationship was different then and he was questioning if he really wanted to be with you or if it could work out. Apparently he found the answers to these questions in the vagina of the “Devil”, as he was so fond of calling her. Well, aren’t you just the luckiest girl in the whole screwed up world.

The facts are plain and simple: he cheated. Had you not been pregnant with his baby, you most certainly would’ve kicked his sorry @ss to the curb. People aren’t supposed to stay together just for their children.

Your oldest sons (Gabriel)  father cheated on you too when you were pregnant, though it was much weirder as he was exchanging rather unwholesome pictures with dozens of men and women that he met through some weird mobile website. You stayed with him because you wanted him to know your baby and had a sneaking suspicion that if you weren’t together when he was born, he would become a dead-beat. Years later, you’re still convinced that you’re right. He might have wasted a few years of your life, but it was worth it since your son was able to bond with his father. And he never tried to convince you of anything other than the fact that he was painfully sorry.

Now this chump has put you in the same situation. Only this feels worse. You held no delusions about Gabriel’s father and knew before that point that the odds of you two staying together forever were slim to none. He had a penchant for incessant lying, and always about obscure things – like the time he told Gabriel’s doctor that he had a cat in the  house despite not only not having a cat, but having a distinct hatred for cats.

You thought your Love, your Light, your Bliss, however, was truly something special. You’d never loved anyone like him and you truly thought he was one of the best men you’d ever met. He was kind, hardworking, smart, genuine, and honest…. or so you thought.

Honesty clearly isn’t his strongest trait and you just don’t know how you can just believe him when he tells you that he’s different now, that Things are different now. It sounds like the same load of bullsh*t all cheaters try to pour on you after they’ve been discovered.

And you suspect that the “Devil” wasn’t the only one he cheated on you with. There’s another little tramp who you had a funny feeling about the moment you met her. She calls him baby for christssake. No girl calls a guy baby without something having happened. You asked him about it today and he gave you that stupid, no eye contact, mumbling response that he always has when he lies or when he knows he’s going to tell you something that will make you mad. You know he’s lying and you suppose it’s only a matter of time until this one comes out too.

Only now, he’s just put down a deposit on an apartment for you two, Gabriel and David. You’ll move, but you know it’s because you so desperately want to escape the hell hole that is your parents house- you have to- it’s just not safe for you or for Gabriel anymore. That’s an entirely different story for an entirely different day. You feel like you have no choice.

You have your days when you think he’s just about the greatest thing there is since Hershey’s, but you have a lot of moments and a lot of days like this where you’re completely repulsed by him and think he’s just like every other scumbag @sshole loser who you’ve kicked out of your life. It’s not a healthy range of emotions.

When you were little you envisioned yourself with some wonderful man who would do anything for you- who would protect you and care for you and never lie to you. Now that you’re grown you laugh at that notion. There’s no such thing as a “wonderful” man. They all lie. They all cheat. They all use you until you’ve turned into some shriveled up, heartless shrew who doesn’t even recognize herself in the mirror anymore.

You just can’t trust him. You have no reason to. He ruined everything.

And he ruined it all for the Devil.

 

 

 Bread Bitch of Peppermint Valley

 

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Photo Credit: Devil Girl on a Break Smoke Ring by Oleg Birioukov

Parental Transitions and Prince Charming

You’ve never seen your Love, your Light, your Bliss like this before. He’s completely in love with your new little baby – you’ve even seen him wipe away a few happy tears when they were cuddling and he thought you weren’t looking - and it reminds you of how you felt after your first son, Gabriel, was born.

You’d gone into labor at 6:45 in the morning with Gabriel and within two hours your contractions were strong and steady, happening every four minutes. Your mother picked up you and Gabriel’s father and you couldn’t help but laugh when you saw that she had donned the passenger seat with disposable Chux pads, since your water hadn’t broken yet. Your mind was racing with fear and excitement – fear of the pain and all of the things that could go wrong and if you really had the strength to give birth to a baby and excitement for finally meeting your little son.

You got to the hospital, determined to have a natural child birth, but your little son was positioned sunny side up and by noon you just couldn’t take the mind rattling pain of his bony little head pressing up against your tailbone, so you asked for an epidural. You felt defeated and weak for a moment because women had been having babies with no pain intervention since the dawn of people, and you thought you should’ve been strong enough to do the same. However, pain and experience are far more convincing and demanding than any theories or beliefs that you had about labor and motherhood, and part of being strong is knowing your limits and not pushing them so that you can fit some ideal.

You painlessly labored on and around four in the afternoon, Gabriel’s heart rate started dropping to 80 bpm with every contraction. The nurse called in the mid-wife, who decided to break your water and get him out as soon as possible. The nurse asked if it would be alright if a few of the nursing students came in to watch. At this point you didn’t care, all that mattered was safely delivering little Gabriel. In walked an entire class of nursing students and between your mother, your father, Gabriel’s father, a surgeon, the midwife and a few nurses, there were upwards of twelve people in the room when it came time to push our your little son. The midwife turned off your epidural- she claimed that a first time mother simply couldn’t successfully push without feeling the contractions- and told you to start pushing. You pushed – hard -  and your body was flooded with adrenaline and awe-inspiring pain. You tapped into some internal reserve of something you’d never felt before that gave you the greatest strength and concentration  you’ve ever experienced in your entire life. 

The midwife yelled “STOP!” and you stopped pushing, wondering what was happening. Gabriel had his cord wrapped around his neck, though no one told you at the time. The midwife mumbled something to the surgeon about prepping the OR for a C-section, and then told you that you were going to try to push one more time. Your father whispered in your ear to push with everything you had, and that’s exactly what you did. With that push, he was born. Gabriel was an eerie shade of cadet-blue and didn’t cry. He wasn’t placed on your chest, but rather he was placed under a warming light and had tubes put in his nose and after what felt like hours, but was probably only a minute or two, he let out a grumpy cry and you’d never heard anything more beautiful in your life.

Gabriel’s father placed him in your arms and you couldn’t believe how cute he was – he had a full head of white hair and bright blue eyes. All ten toes and all ten fingers were present and accounted for, and you’d never seen anything so tiny or so marvelous.

You hardly slept during his first few days, convinced that he would just stop breathing or something equally awful if you did. You couldn’t believe that you had been given something so precious and so perfect and couldn’t fathom what you had done to deserve this. Surely something this lovely, warm, fragile and flawless can’t be meant to last.

But he was. And he has. And the only moment that has rivaled the sheer joy and amazement of his birth was the birth of his brother. Both were very different labors and deliveries, but both were equally joyful and life changing. Both are very different children, but both are equally loved and cherished.

In those first few days of his life, you fall in love with your new little son, David. As you watch his father, your Love, your Light, your Bliss, falling in love with his son and transitioning in his own remarkable way into parenthood, you feel like you’re seeing him as a man for the first time, and he’s never been more beautiful, but there is still hurt lingering in your heart.

You hope that this will last forever, because, quite simply, he’s the best man you’ve known, you’ve never loved anyone the way you do him, and you and your children deserve the kind of stability and serenity that a decent loving man can bring to a family. You’re also getting older and your heart isn’t as resilient as it once was, and you feel like if this doesn’t work out then you’re done with love.

For now, you try to just relish these first few days of David’s life, forget about past hurt, and try to re-open your heart again. After all, no one said Prince Charming had to perfect.

Bread Bitch of Peppermint Valley

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Birth, Forgiveness and the 1000 Mile Void

You seethe and cry and scream until you have nothing left in you and come to the realization that you're a 27 year old divorced mother of two, and both from different fathers, who lives at home and doesn't have much going for her so you figure you better make it work with this one. You're not getting any younger and the emotional baggage just keeps piling up.
You rub your enormous belly, and your little boy kicks your hand in response. While you watch him dance and wiggle you decide that you'll ignore how much he's hurt and betrayed you. You'll ignore the fact that you feel like he doesn't deserve you and that you don't deserve to be with yet another man who you just can't trust. You'll just distance yourself as much as you can emotionally from him without completely dissolving the relationship until you think he seems like he's worthy of being trusted. You still haven't reached that point yet. And the void between you feels like 1000 oceans.
Before you know it, you're in labor, huffing and puffing through each contraction wondering when this little guy will just get here already. Your love, your light, your bliss stays with you the whole time, excitedly writing down the exact timing of every contraction. After 12 hours they're still no more frequent than every seven minutes apart and you start to wonder if you’ll be in labor for the rest of your life. Your Love, your Light, your Bliss, is turning in for the night, seemingly disappointed. You are too.
Another 12 hours later and your contractions are  kicking it into high gear, coming at least once every five minutes and stronger. You think it might be a good idea to go to the hospital, especially since you’re now screaming through them. You get to the hospital and the intervals go down, but the intensity remains the same. They tell you that you’re only 3 centimeters dilated and that you may stay like this for a few days so it would be best to leave and return when you’re sure you’re in labor. You mumble  a rather audible “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me” and then you almost start crying. If you stay like for DAYS SOMEONE’S gonna get shot – you think. Your Light, your Love, your Bliss seems a little bewildered too, but he tries to stay positive because he knows you’re getting tired and just want this little one to be born already. The nurse suggests you go for a long walk and you glare at her through slitted eyes. You leave, get a gluten free pizza, screaming at your Light, your Love, your Bliss anytime he drives over a pothole that you don’t like. You finally get home and grunt and groan some more, scaring your little son who keeps trying to comfort you, but he’s still too little to understand that mommy’s ok and that this is just part of having a baby. His fear makes you think that maybe you should go back to the hospital. God know it hurts more than it did when you left and if they tell you to leave this time, you’ll tell them EXACTLY where they can go.
You head up to maternity ward and they ask you to sit in the waiting room. You’re grunting and groaning and the other people there- probably waiting for the birth of their little nieces, nephews and grandbabies- are trying politely not to stare as you moan and groan as demurely as a lady can when she’s in labor. A nurse walks by and asks if you are alright. You just stare at her blankly and she rushes away to the desk. A few minutes later they come out to get you and the nurse you spoke to at the front desk says, “I had no idea! You weren’t complaining enough!” She also gets a blank stare. They take you to your room and find that you’re 6 centimeters dilated and baby is definitely on his way. The contractions are happening about every 2 minutes apart and you are moaning like you’ve never moaned before. You’d had an epidural way before this point when you went into labor with your first.
The nurse offers you Nubian to help with the pain until you can have an epidural (sorry – childbirth au-natural is not for me) and you happily agree. The Nubian hits you and the contractions become manageable and you’re actually able to smile for the first time since that morning. Then it either starts to wear off or the contractions are becoming stronger. You can’t tell the difference. All you know is it HURTS. Finally, 31 hours into labor, the anesthesiologist places your catheter (though he did miss the first time and had to stab you twice in the spine which is no pleasure cruise, but in the middle of labor it just feels like a searing unrelenting pinch so that’s one twisted plus to all of that pain) and you are completely numb, cool, calm and collected within 15 minutes. Your Love, your Light, your Bliss holds your hand and rubs your back and seems excited. He’s sitting next to you while you’re trying to sleep and all of sudden you hear a loud BOOM on the Doppler and feel what feels like the biggest kick that this baby has ever kicked. The nurse lifts your blanket and announces that you’re water has broken. She calls in the doctor and after they have you flip around a few times you are ready to push. You tuck your chin to your chest, grab on behind your knees and push with everything you have when the doctor says push and stop when she says stop. Three pushes and he’s out, wailing his beautiful little blonde head off. Any hint of resentment is completely irradiated and is over taken by an all encompassing love and amazement at just how ridiculously cute he is.
The doctor places him on your chest and you just shower him in kisses,- his nose, his cheeks, his lips, his hands – every inch of him is exquisite even with all the newborn gunk still stuck to his hair and skin. Your Love, your Light, your Bliss stands next to you and he has never seemed so over joyed. He almost appears humbled. Like in a single instant he went from a lost boy to a man with a purpose and a destiny. In that moment he is the single most beautiful man you’ve ever met and you just don’t want to meet another. And in that single instant, nothing would ever be the same between you again and  the 1000 ocean void vanished.

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Betrayal and Transitions

Your baby, and belly are growing and the pain that used to wrack your bones is lessening every day. Every bout of morning sickness, every hesitant sip of caffeinated beverages, and the swelling in your breasts reminds you constantly that you’re pregnant. Your Love, your Light, your Bliss seems to forget. It’s tough for him at first, he seems almost UPSET that you might actually live. You were supposed to be gone in a few months, he says. He hadn’t planned for any of this, he says. He’s sad that you won’t get an abortion, but you’ve never been one to believe in killing off family members just because it might seem to be more convenient at the time. You have a son who is four and can’t see how his life is any more real or worthy of continuing than the little life that’s blooming inside of you.

He flies clear across the country to clear his head where he ignores you for a week.  He comes back and says he thinks he can do it- he wants to try to be together. You ask him if he slept with anyone else when he was gone and he says no. You don’t even take time to process this and feel like you want to slap him for leaving and ignoring you during one of the most vulnerable and confusing times you’ve ever experienced. But he has that x-factor that you’ve never found in anyone else and because of that you look past it and try to move forward. Or maybe you really just have horrible self esteem and think, “well hey- at least he doesn’t hit me!”

The time comes for your first ultrasound and he goes with you, seemingly apathetic. You see the little coffee bean flickering on the screen and feel the beginnings of a burst of excitement, until you turn to see the blank, thoughtless expression on his face. He doesn’t care at all, you think. He feels no attachment. You feel crushed, but don’t say anything. At this point he still holds the belief that the baby is just a bundle of cells. He won’t even refer to the baby as a baby. Just a little blob.

He’s still getting drunk three times a week and getting high every day. The people he surrounds himself with are worse and about six years younger than he is,  always surrounded by ridiculous high-school style drama because they all keep sleeping with each other and lying about it, and getting fucked up on a regular basis. You even try to hang out with these few people a few times, but aside for a few of them, you just can’t deal with the slew of drunken idiots or the irritating little fat Trolll that loves to drag her pudgy, sweaty fingers all over your belly and talk about just how pretty you are and laying it on way way way to thick. This is all some pathetic attempt to convince you that she doesn’t want your boyfriend. But you know better.

But he doesn’t know that all of these so called “friends”, especially the Troll, love to tell you and each other that he’s a loser who needs to grow up and that his drinking makes him pathetic. His friends. You can’t repeat that to him, because that would hurt his feelings but every time he chooses them over you you want to scream and tell him everything they’ve said. You don’t. You still haven’t. and you won’t.

He says he needs time to gradually stop drinking and smoking and to you this sounds like the sentiments of an idiotic high school boy, not a 26 year old grown man with a baby on the way. He can’t seem to understand why after being married to a raging alcoholic, and living with a pothead whose only motivation was getting more pot, your skeptical that he can change and extremely wary of even considering a relationship with someone who appears to have hit age 18 and stopped evolving.

Time passes and your belly grows even bigger, and your health has never been better. He seems to be growing an attachment to the little boy inside of you, he’s drinking less and you hope that this means he’s finally on the road to responsible parenthood. Things get better. He seems sweeter to you, like he might actually really love you, but you just can’t shake this feeling in the pit of your stomach like something isn’t right, and you randomly start massive fights with him, accusing him of cheating, and every possible way you ask he insists he never has. The issue gets dropped, comes up again, gets dropped and comes up again.

A few months pass and things seem to be going well. Better than they ever have you think. You’re waddling around everywhere, peeing every 15 minutes, and sleeping like a log. He’s  handling all of your ridiculous demands for lobster and chocolate like a pro, without even complaining.

Then one idle Tuesday you have this sick feeling in the pit of your stomach and you just know that he did something. Your face grows red and your hands are shaking so you know that this is an instinct that you can’t ignore. You confront him and sure enough, when he was in Washington he cheated on you with his psychotic whore of an ex girlfriend. He claims it was because he needed closure and apparently closure can’t be had without fucking around. He tries to convince you that you two weren’t even together then and you are so enraged and hurt that you puke. He seems like he doesn’t care less about what he did, he’s just sorry that you found out. He didn’t tell you because he didn’t want to hurt your feelings, he says. You know that he didn’t tell you because he’s a pussy. He knows you would’ve left as soon as he told you. What bothers you the most, is that you specifically asked him if he did anything when he was gone and he lied and said no. He lied. And now he’s trying to convince you that you weren’t even together when he did. He is no better than any other self serving, womanizing asshole that you’ve had the pleasure of meeting. And now you have the pleasure of giving this asshole, the same asshole who was so upset that you weren’t dying anymore, the greatest gift imaginable – a gift he doesn’t deserve- a beautiful baby. And you start to resent this baby because he will keep you tied to this asshole who hasn’t ever really cared about you and probably never will.

 

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