I make far too many decisions on the basis of not wanting to be alone…
Wow, I read that on someone’s blog the other day (I wish I could remember where so I could give them “credit”) but I froze as soon as I read it. It’s such a simple sentence with so much meaning behind it. I guess you could say I have lived most of my adult life this way. My biggest fear is to be alone and this has caused me to make some rather questionable decisions. Which leads me right into my story of just how I became a single mom.
I remember being at my parents’ house on my 25th birthday and having a discussion about having kids. (At 25 I was one of the oldest in my generation of friends and family that was not married, didn’t have any kids, or was even in a “serious” relationship and in the Hispanic culture for some reason a lot of people look at it as something being “wrong” with you lol) But I was not ready to have kids; actually having a child was the last thing on my mind. I had a great family and a wonderful circle of friends. I had a great daytime job and I was working at different night clubs at least 5 nights a week. I had my own place and no one to tell me what to do or where to go. I was on top of the world…and yet I felt so alone. I was coming home to an empty apartment every night, and sometimes the loneliness was so bad that I would often cry myself to sleep. So as I laughed at the conversation with my parents about not wanting to have a child anytime soon, little did I know that I would get pregnant just a few short weeks later.
I “met” my son’s father one night online. We exchanged a few emails and then the emails turned into phone calls. Within a few days we had arranged to meet. We met up and instantly clicked, I made dinner for him that night and I honestly don’t remember him leaving after that. The first night he stayed at my apartment, I didn’t want him to leave. It had been a long time since I had felt any kind of companionship and at that moment I was not ready to let that go. The next few days we were pretty much inseparable, he would come over after work and was pretty much only home to get some more clothes. Within weeks he was hardly going home at all and one day I woke up and realized that my apartment had quickly turned into “our” place and it was a weird feeling. Isn’t that what I had wanted? Someone to share my life with? Yet I was feeling a little “off.” But I pushed those feelings aside, because I was feeling something else and it was something that was taking over all of my thoughts. I knew right away that I was pregnant, I could just feel it. I was very in tune with my body and knew that I just wasn’t feeling right. I was afraid to tell him that I thought I was pregnant, after all, we had only known each other a few weeks, and I thought that as soon as I told him he would leave. But I also couldn’t hide it from him, so I told him and to my surprise he said to me, well let’s go get a test and if it’s negative we will just have to start being a lot more careful, if it’s positive I promise you that everything will be ok…
So I bought a test and decided to take it the following morning. I could barely sleep that night; I had so many things running through my mind. I woke up around 5am, and within SECONDS the test turned positive. I was at a loss for words. I didn’t know what to do, I wanted to tell myself that it wasn’t real but I knew deep down that it was. I crawled back in bed and didn’t say a word. He woke up about an hour later and asked me if I was ready to take the test. All I could say was “it’s on the counter go look at it.” He walked back in the room with a smile on his face and asked me why I wasn’t more excited. I felt horrible when he said that. I knew that a child is a blessing but at that time I just had so many other thoughts. So I took a shower and went to work, it was so hard to not tell anyone what was going on (especially since I worked with my sister and a few of my closest friends and I would tell them everything) I got home from work that day and I was exhausted. He had dinner made when I got home and then told me that he was going to take my car to the store to buy a few things we needed and that he had drawn me a hot bath so I could relax. It was that night that I realized that things were not going to go well…
His trip to the “store” took about 12 hours. He left the house around 6pm and didn’t come back until the following morning. I wasn’t sure what to think that night. I couldn’t sleep; I kept waiting to hear the front door opening. For some reason I had left my phone in the car that day so I didn’t have any way to communicate with anyone. I walked to the gas station next to my complex at 3am and called his brothers house where he was “living’ before we met to see if he was there. He was not. I explained to them what was going on and all his brother could say was “Oh no, he’s starting this shit already. Don’t worry, he will be home soon” (well that didn’t really make me feel better!) Sure enough, he came home a few hours later. He told me that he was sorry and that it had just hit him really hard that he was having another child (he has 2 children from a previous relationship) and he wanted to make sure that he would be able to be in this baby’s life. So I told him that it would be ok and that we were going to be a family and everything would be alright.
But things were not alright. Over the next few weeks things started to change between us. The “honeymoon phase” was quickly ending and we were getting to know each other and I quickly started to realize that I did not like the person that he was. I was constantly catching him in lies and yet I blew it off because I wanted to “do the right thing for the baby.” I thank God that physically I had a wonderful pregnancy. I had never felt better and more beautiful in my life. But I hated going home, I hated being around him. I hated the lies and the manipulation that was going on in my home. One holiday weekend I remember waking up and him telling me that he had let one of his friends borrow my car, but that he would bring it back in a few hours. Hours turned into days. I didn’t know what to do, I didn’t want to tell anyone what was going on, I didn’t want to be “that girl” that everyone always talked about. The ones that let their man take over their life and treat them like crap. So I kept it all to myself. A few days later I decided to tell my parents that my car had been stolen, I didn’t want them to worry about me. I rented a car until I could figure out what to do next. And then the night after I got my rental car I wake up in the middle of the night and I realize I am in bed by myself. He was gone, my purse was gone, and my rental car was gone. Luckily my cell phone was still there, so I frantically call his brother’s wife and have her come to the apartment. I knew where he liked to hang out so I told her to take me there. Within minutes I spotted him and my rental car and he spotted me too. I got out of the car to talk to him and find out what was going on and when I saw his face I didn’t even recognize him, he had the oddest look in his eyes. And then he jumped in the rental car and drove off. I got a call from the cops a few hours later; they had found him behind a building with a crack pipe in one pocket and my wallet in the other. He had completely cleaned out my bank account and the rental car was no where to be found. Everything started to fall into place in my mind. The car was eventually found; one of his many drug dealers had led the police on a chase through a neighborhood, and eventually ran the car into the side of a house. Him and his dealer both were arrested that night. I felt as though I was in a horrible dream and all I wanted to do was wake up.
Days later he got out of jail and against my better judgment I let him come back home. Over the next few months I put up with more and more stuff that I swore I wouldn’t put with. (At some point I will go into more detail I don’t want to make this longer than it has to be) Finally in the weeks leading up to my son’s birth I really started thinking about wanting to leave him. But I was once again afraid of being alone. And I didn’t want my son to grow up thinking that it was my fault that we were not a family. So I stayed, or I should say I let him stay. The holidays came and went and everyone around me was full of happiness and joy, and I was once again dreading going home and spending even one minute in the same room with him. Then one morning I just couldn’t take it anymore, and I went to visit my mother at work and she sat me down before I could even say a word and she pulled a key out of her purse and put it in front of me and said “You don’t have to make a decision right now, I just want you to know that your dad and I want nothing but the best for you and the baby. So here is the key to the house, you can come home whenever you are ready.” And I broke down crying and told her that I would be home by the end of the week. Then I went to work and went home and I told him that night that since he refused to leave I was going to be the one leaving and surprisingly he was not upset and told me he had been expecting it. I told him that I was going to take him to his brother’s house and once I had packed and left the apartment he could swing by and get his clothes before I turned in the keys to the apartment. After I dropped him off I went back home and was finally able to get rest and relax and I laid on the couch watching tv until I drifted off to sleep, only to wake up a few hours later with the strangest thing I had ever felt before…contractions!
It was Thursday January 11, 2007 around 1am when the contractions started. My mind started racing, I had no idea what to do or who to call that early in the morning, but I knew I couldn’t drive myself to the hospital. I tried to settle down but as the time went by they got worse and worse until I knew it was time to go. I hauled my son’s car seat, my suitcases and hospital bag down three flights of stairs and drove to the building next to mine and banged on my cousin’s window until I woke her up. She knew before even I even opened my mouth what was going on and we were on our way to the hospital. It was still too early to call everyone, since I didn’t really know if was “really” in labor. But I called his brothers house to tell him that our baby was on his way, and I don’t really know why I was surprised that he wasn’t there, they hadn’t seen him since I had dropped him off earlier that night. The next few hours were a blur. Between all the people coming in and out and the medications I was given I don’t remember too much of what was going on. All I know is that within 5 hours of me arriving at the hospital and less than 30 minutes of actual “pushing and labor” my wonderful son was born. And his father was not there to witness it…He arrived about an hour later, told me he was busy with some friends and was sorry he couldn’t make it. In other words, he was too busy getting high to be there at his son’t birth. Looking back now, he was lucky that the epidural had not worn off and I couldn’t feel my legs or else there would’ve been a fight in that hospital room. But my life had already changed and the instant Alex was born I felt a new purpose in life. I knew that everything I had endured in the 9 months prior to that moment no longer meant anything, and my sole purpose now was to be there for him and make sure that he had everything and anything he needed. So two days after I had him I left the hospital, went straight to my parents house and haven’t looked back since. Everything happens for a reason, and I know now that my biggest fear was overcome the day my son was born, because I will never ever be alone again!
