Friday, October 11, 2013

Oh, You Mean THIS Unmarked Grave, Officer?

So my planned post for today was going to be about my water breaking....which is a hilarious story.  But I find that I'm too pre-occupied with my husband's bullshit to write that post.
So you all get to hear about the special individual that I'm stuck with until death do we part......:::clears throat:::

My husband didn't want any children.  He said so on our first date.  It was almost a deal breaker.  I have the girl child, but I always wanted more children.  A chance to have a real family. 
It took a while, but at some point I became ok with only having my daughter.  She was on her way to her wretched teen years, and if I had another child the two of them wouldn't be friends until they were adults.  I would have to have two more in order to avoid raising another only child (which sucks....don't do it!!!).  My daughter was so independent, I barely had to do anything for her anymore.  If she could drive, she would take care of herself completely.

So we decided to get married, and decided not to have any more children.  He would be a great step father and leave it at that. 

While on our honeymoon, we went deep sea fishing (his thing....I don't really fish).  Someone asked me if I was going to get sea sick.  I said (and I quote) "Nah, the last time I was sea sick I was pregnant, so I'm not worried"....foreshadowing anyone???

I did get sea sick.  Not like yaking over the side or anything...just really queasy.  But the waves were high, and most of the people on the boat were feeling yucky.  The whole next day I was out of commission.  Feeling gross all day.  The next day, still not so good.  We went out to dinner, because even though I felt awful, I was still hungry.  The last day of our honeymoon, I noticed that my boobs were a little sore......oh shit.

The will power involved in not running right to a CVS and grabbing a pregnancy test was of the kind required to kick heroin.  I didn't want to ruin my honeymoon though, so I waited. (Prior to this, I was a frequent pregnancy test user.  If my period was 5 minutes late I was peeing on a stick.  I kept EPT in business.)

Our honeymoon wasn't great anyhow.....but this is already in danger of being a serious post, so I'll leave that alone.

The very next day after we got home I went out and bought a 3 pack of case there was a dud.

Well, for the first time in my life, the first test was a dud.  No control line.  I sighed in relief.  It was a bad test, and that stupid pink positive line was probably a lie.  Waiting until I had to pee again was hard.  But I persevered....

The second test was not a dud.  Two freaking pink lines.  Shit, Shit, Shit.....

After dinner, my husband was playing some video game in our room.  I gave him a hug....and said...."I'm pregnant".

His response?  "What?  What?!?"

I said "I'm pregnant."

Him?  "Fantastic."

The next several months were horrible.  He went through all of the stages of grief I think. 

He asked how I knew I was, two separate pregnancy tests dear.  Had I been to a doctor?  Well, no....but those testy things are fairly reliable.

He accused me of getting pregnant on purpose.  I put an end to that really quickly. 

He told me I was ruining his life.  That I made this decision without him, and he would be pissed at me forever.  Great.

So, not only did I have all sort of pregnancy shit going on, and was already crying at the drop of a hat thanks to my hormones...but I got to listen to this sort of thing at least once a week.

Side Note:  How does a person on birth control find themselves accidentally pregnant you ask?  Well, when a person is trying not to have her period on her wedding night, and begins her birth control cycle a week late, and then forgets that she has done so......that's how.  Well I wouldn't have to worry about that pesky period for quite a while.

He went to one doctor's appointment.  The 20 week ultrasound.  The one where they can tell you what you're having.  I had to guilt him into it.

He didn't care to feel the baby kick.  He didn't care about what the midwife had to say.  He wouldn't get involved in naming, or nursery planning, or anything else until right before I delivered.

It was seriously the worst pregnancy ever.  Of course I tied my tubes the day after I gave birth to my son.  I was absolutely not doing any of this again.

I handled all of this with one hope.  I was counting on my husband instantly falling in love with the little person I was going to hand him.  I was relying on him loving his son instantly, and that it would all be ok.

I was right.  That is what happened.  He loves his son. 

But he is still an asshole.  Almost every day I wonder why I married this man. 

In his past is a long line of women that have just taken care of him.  Women that have spoiled him rotten and given him everything he wanted.  He seems to have always gotten his way in everything, and if he didn't, he left.

If time travel were a real thing, I would go back in time and donkey punch my mother-in-law every time she gave in to his tantrums.  Every time she spoiled him.  Every time she just made his problems go away without him having to deal with them.  Donkey punch. 

All of these women are the cause of my misery.  He married me.  I'm not exactly the "yes dear" type.  Though I am the "I'll just fucking do it myself because it's easier than arguing with you" type.  Much to my downfall.  I realized this waaaaaaayyyyy to late to do any good.  Now everything is a fight.

This post is already long, and not funny, and if I were to gripe about every single aspect of our relationship, and his lack of parenting, and his non-provider attitude.....well it would be a book.  Or a diary.  Dear Diary.....

No....I'll stop now.  I don't want to leave the man.  I do love him.  It just gets harder  every day to remember why I love him.  When I come home from picking the baby up from the sitter, after working 7 hours, and make dinner, clean up from dinner, feed the baby, put the baby to bed, take care of the dogs, fold laundry and then hope I still have time to take a shower so I don't smell quite so bad before I go to bed so I can get up at 5am and do it all over again......and meanwhile he has been playing guitar or Playstation for the last 2 hours.....yeah I'm a little homicidal.

Some of my friends said the first year of marriage is the hardest.  When I was pregnant, a friend said to me "I hope you like him again after you have the baby".  Some said that the first year with a new baby is the hardest.  We are down 5 months, with 7 to go.  I hope he lives through it.  I don't look good in orange, and jump suits don't exactly flatter my waistline. 

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Shouldn't You Be Working by Bethany Davenport is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License.