“A woman has got to love a bad man once or twice in her life to be thankful for a good one.”
- Unknown -
(continuing from last time...)
Not long after my second child was born, my first marriage began to collapse. But the road there was long and agonizing with numerous incidences of lies, manipulation, browbeating, volatility and the silent treatment. Because sometimes I wasn’t even worth looking at.
But there were also countless moments that demonstrated how far down I was on my ex’s priority list and how selfish and insensitive he could be. These moments were agonizing but enlightening; each one drove this dysfunctional union closer to the end.
I have chosen three such experiences, out of many, to share with you because they pack a punch. And since it would be lengthy to share them all together, I am dividing them into three posts.
I’ll begin with this one:
During my first pregnancy, I bled on and off throughout the whole time, constantly fearing a miscarriage. But the baby, my little miracle, was determined to join this world and held on. At seven months, my water broke. I was rushed to the emergency, the labour was stopped and I was hospitalized for two weeks, after which time I was sent home with a stern warning to remain on bed rest 24/7 in hopes that the pregnancy would continue as close to the due date as possible to prevent a very premature birth. “Every day that you remain pregnant is a blessing for your baby”, I was told. No getting out of bed aside from using the bathroom. Or to shower; making sure to sit down in the tub while doing so. All my needs had to be met and my only job was to remain pregnant for as long as possible.
|My dad holding his first granddaughter; my miracle baby.|
On the day of my hospital release, a day off for my ex, he picked me up at 9 AM, drove me home and promptly left to go play golf with his buddies. For the entire day. I hardly ate anything and I lied to my mother every time she called to see how I was doing. Yes, I ate. Yes, he’s here taking care of me. No, you don’t need to come. He can’t come to the phone right now because he’s in the shower/cooking/outside/doing some work/running errands/at the store/busy/busy/busy. Of course I’m telling the truth. I wouldn’t lie about such a thing.
When he finally showed up at 8 PM, he made some food and offered me some. Not once did it dawn on him that he’d done anything wrong or that his behaviour was objectionable. And when I hinted as such, I was being unreasonable. I couldn’t possibly expect him to just hang around all day, did I?
I remained in bed for another two very long and lonely weeks. Thankfully, my parents showed up regularly to feed me, clean my home and keep me company. My daughter was born at eight months, perfectly healthy, with fully developed lungs and the ability to breathe on her own. She was kept in the hospital for an additional two weeks but only for observation; no need for medical intervention. That month of bed rest had made a significant difference. And although my very soul had been crushed by my ex, I would do it all over again for her safe arrival.
To be continued... (click here)