I've held my tongue long enough about a huge event in my life and even though I have received an heart felt apology and have forgiven this individual, I still find that I'm not healing from the events. I really feel it's because every day I have to pretend like nothing happened. So I'm putting all of that aside today in order to get the truth out and finally start the healing process.
We all know where I am now, happily pregnant with my second child, getting ready to enter my second marriage, and happily taking care of my home and family (pets included) but does anyone really know the truth about my first pregnancy or my first child? I will be changing names in this blog but chances are that won't help much because many of you know who my ex-husband actually is but for the purposes of those who don't know, we will just call him Jack.
I met Jack while dating another guy many years ago. We never clicked or anything of the sort and honestly I didn't give him much thought. That relationship ended badly with one swift back hand across my face for calling him out for cheating (the ex before Jack). Shortly after the break up, Jack showed up at my house for one of my many parties that was being thrown by my room mate at the time. We some how hit it off this time. I honestly didn't want another relationship so soon but the more we talked the more I realized we had a good bit in common...or so I thought. After only a few short weeks of "dating" I became pregnant. For anyone becoming pregnant for the first time, right after your 21st birthday, and coming from a strict southern baptist family...I was terrified. I didn't know anything about kids besides the little I learned from the two year old staying with me and the tid bits of baby sitting I did in high school. When I told Jack he seemed extremely thrilled. No one else really was that excited mainly because it was out of wed lock.
I quickly realized that unlike my ex-roommate, that I didn't want to raise my child in a roach infested trailer with no working stove, hot water, or heat so I quickly found an apartment for rent close by. I won't go into what happened with the roommate...I'll save that for another time. Jack and his best friend who just so happened to live in the same apartment complex as the one I was going to moved what we could salvage from the trailer. The couches, beds, and most of the furniture was simply too infested to bring. Within just two days I found myself in an empty, furniture-less apartment with a slowly growing belly. But honestly, I loved my apartment. At first Jack did everything he could to help. He found me a couch and helped me buy a few tid bits for the apartment but shortly that all changed.
One day after an exhausting 8 hours at work, I came home to find Jack had moved completely in. It was never discussed, he just simply did it. I tried to bite my tongue but honestly, since I was paying the rent and just my name was on the lease I didn't like the fact that he just showed up. He kept saying, "We're a family now." which irked me even more. We barely knew each other! But I continued to do my best to make it work. Within a few short weeks I found myself working a full time job, doing all of the cleaning, and all of the cooking and being demanded to have his dinner ready by the time he got home. Not a big deal right? Wrong! When you never know when he's coming home, that's a little difficult to have dinner ready and still hot when he walks in the door. Little arguments started quickly but I always folded and just put my head down and did what I was told like a good little girl. Even though I quit smoking, drinking, and doing drugs...Jack decided to take a different route. He first tried to hide it, then I suppose he got tired of that and started smoking cigarettes and weed in the living room. I explained to him that if I can't smoke, he couldn't either in the house. That's the same thing as me lighting up. But it didn't phase him one bit. His hours at "work" became later and later and more and more fights started about everything from laundry to the way I cleaned.
I first noticed something was really off about him when he began to demand sex from me. Even when I was about to throw up from morning sickness, he wanted it and wouldn't take no for an answer. If I would put my foot down and say no, he would get up and go watch porn on the T.V. but if I caught him he would always make up an excuse claiming that he was innocent in the whole matter. I've always had a huge issue with porn and that stems from several other sex addicted boyfriends I've had. I'm disgusted by the whole industry and he knew that..but obviously didn't care. I still tried to make the relationship work but after only two or three months I just snapped.
He always complained about the way I hung my jewelry up. I didn't have a jewelry box, so I took a nail, tacked it up on the bathroom wall, and hung my necklaces there. He claimed it looked trashy (even though I've seen it done soooo many times!). After one of his "long nights at work" he came home, went to the bathroom for over 45 minutes (which I'm sure we all know what he was doing in there), came out, sat on the couch and mindlessly watched t.v. for two hours. All of a sudden he says, "oh, I took your necklaces down."
"What?!" I exclaimed as I hopped up from the couch and ran to the bathroom to find all of my necklaces in a tangled head laying in the sink. It took me close to two hours to untangle them all. I'd had enough of this person coming in and controlling my life. I marched out to the living room and told him to pack up. We were done with the co-living situation. He immediately started crying and pleading but I just didn't want to hear it. I finally told him to get out. He said he would have his stuff out by the next day.
Sure enough, after work the next day when I arrived at home, he was gone and so was everything else besides my kitchen table and my small couch. I was relieved but irritated that even the dishes and microwave was gone. My parents graciously helped me restock what I had lost little by little and I continued to move on with my life. Jack began coming by whenever he wanted (he had a key), leaving me presents, and showing up at my job. The first thing he gave me (which he left on the table the day he moved out) was a "promise" gold ring. He left a note claiming that if I would accept the ring we could start over. I wasn't ready for that commitment and told him that I needed time. But time he didn't give me. He also left carnations in my apartment. Widely known fact about me...I HATE carnations. I had said that time and time again to him so in my mind, why would you buy me something I truly hate? The appearances at work became so common that one day I was told by my boss, "You need to tell him to stop coming by or you will be fired!" Crap! I told him to quit showing up every where I was and that he was about to get me fired but nope, he didn't listen. He still showed up and tried to walk behind the counter just to "feel the belly".
Now, I understand being away from your growing child is tough but buddy you brought that on yourself. After months of agony by him stalking me and crying every chance he got (be a man!) I finally decided to make a time for us to meet and sit down to talk about everything. But guess what?? He never showed! I shrugged it off and went on with my life not hearing from him for the remainder of the pregnancy. I did everything on my own. I even picked out my son's name by myself. I decided to give my son my last name because honestly I didn't think his father would ever be in the picture.
During labor I asked dad to call Jack to let him know the baby was coming. Dad did NOT want to but did just because I asked. Jack and his entire family showed up not long after. Considering that this was my first labor, I was scared to death, and down right sick (throwing up) I really didn't want tons of people in the delivery room watching me push out a kid from my vagina! The nurse shooed everyone out of the room to check my stats. Once alone she leaned over and said, "Who do you want in here? Don't be shy. Tell me who you want to stay and I will make sure everyone else leaves you alone." I didn't want to be mean so I just shook my head but she continued, "I can tell there is a lot of tension here and frankly, you don't need that. You are pushing life out of your stomach...the focus is on you...not them." I finally said I wanted my mom, my sister, and Jack in the room. The stocky nurse smiled, nodded, and stormed out of the room. Shortly after the people I requested came in and I could hear yelling from the hallway. Jack's family was raising hell demanding to be in the room. Of course, they were all pissed at me.
Fast foward, after 12 hours of labor my son was finally born. I was exhausted. I slept for a while, tried to unsuccessfully breast feed, and started welcoming guests who were coming to see the new baby. Jack's family shows up, no one says a word to me. Jack's mother said a few words to me finally and when his aunt walked in his mother said, "I'd like you to meet the mother of the baby-". The aunt butts in, "I don't care who she is!" and turns her back to me all while holding MY SON! I was mortified to have been treated so sourly. Over the next few days, postpartum depression sunk in. Jack came by every day to see his child and remained to do so for a few weeks after we got back home. He bought a crib and chester drawers for our son. I thought things were going good so we decided to try to make the relationship work again.
It only took a month for the demanding sex to start back up. It didn't matter to him that I suffered from after birth pains, or that I was diagnosed with displaysia (pre-cancerous cells on the uterus which had to be burned off). He always wanted it. Our fights started back up and we broke up about 5 times in one year. His obsession with anything sex related got worse.
Once our son was a year old, we found a sitter and I was "allowed" to go out with him and his friends to a local bar. After only a few drinks I found myself feeling sick. I wasn't new to drinking by any means so it seemed odd. We got in Jack's car, me in the front seat, his friend in the back whom we needed to take home and his other friend on the driver's side window talking to Jack. I at that point all but passed out. I couldn't move or talk. My eyes closed and my breathing slowed down drastically but I could hear and feel everything. Jack proceeded to pull my top down and expose my breasts. He began fondling them right in front of his friend at the window. He tried to get him to join but the guy thought it was wrong and just walked away. He then says, "Hey S---(not providing the friends name), check it out!" He jiggled by left breast and flicked his finger against my nipple. His friend replied, "That's just wrong. Come on man, knock it off." Thank you S---! Realizing that no one wanted to play but him, he drove S--- home, the whole time fondling me. Anyone who might have pulled up next to us at a stop light would have seen it. He dropped his friend off and drove me home to the apartment, still fondling. My movement started coming back to my legs and slowly moved up to my head. He quickly pulled my shirt back up and didn't say a word. Once home, he tried to help me out of the car. I took a moment to make sure my legs were working and once convinced, I bolted up the stairs and tried to slam the door before he got there. He blocked the door with his foot demanding to know what was wrong. Here's what I said, "You honestly thought I wouldn't know?! I was awake the whole time! How could you! Get out! I never want to see you again!" He busted in the door. I cowered in the corner and had no clue what to do. All I knew to do was scream. He kept trying to shh me saying the neighbors would hear but I kept screaming. Finally one of my neighbor's porch lights came on, he got scared, and walked out closing the door behind him. I don't think I need to tell you how I felt about all of this so we'll skip ahead.
After days and days of repeated phone calls and begging and yes, more crying I took him back. Stupid me? Yep you bet! But I did it for my son, not me. Over the next several years, the forceful sex gradually got worse. We had so much heat from our families about not being married that we finally decided to tie the knot. The wedding was beautiful and my parents did a fantastic job, but I was anything but happy. I did my best to put on a happy face to disguise my disgust for my new husband. The honeymoon phase never really happened. We got in fights on a weekly basis.
The sex became painful, literally. Several times I would bleed and beg for him to stop but for some reason, that just got him hotter. He began holding my hands behind my back and pushing my face down into the mattress. I get it, some people like it rough but when your wife is screaming in pain and bleeding...don't you think that's a little too rough. After each time he would throw me a towel and just walk off or go to sleep. I didn't want my "family" to fall apart because I knew how much my son loved his father so I endured all of it. I kept quiet when it hurt, I kept quiet when he was busted looking at porn on his phone, I kept quiet when he yelled at me for leaving one wrinkle in his shirt, I kept quiet when he wanted me to roll play that I was having sex with my best girl friend, I kept quiet when he wanted to pretend that I was her, I kept quiet when he asked his friend to join us, and I even kept quiet when he wanted me to pretend I was his nine year old daughter. I did so many roll playing sexual things that I'm truly ashamed. The few times I did protest, a huge fight would start and he would yell and call me names and just truly make my life hell until I gave in.
A young girl in the neighborhood quickly became a good friend of mine (she was 9). Jack began getting up from bed when she would stay over while I was sleeping. He would leave his pajama pants unbuttoned (years later I found out that she saw it all) and he even tried to jack off while sitting behind her. I put a stop to that...quickly! It got to the point where I would not sleep when she was there. I stayed up making sure that if he got up, I would be going out there too. I cared too much for this girl to have something happen to her.
It got to the point where I would wake up to him having sex with me. Several times I woke up to a nasty shot in the face of semen without any warning. He took pictures of me without me knowing (I found them on his phone), made me dress up in horrible outfits, and made me do more things than I can count. It was never enough. He finally admitted after me catching him over twenty times, that he had a porn addiction and wanted help. Ok, first step is admitting so I agreed to help. I deleted his account off of my computer and began monitoring all of his activity. Anytime I would leave the house while he was there, I would come home to find porn sites on the history. He denied all of them of course claiming that there was a virus or that they just popped up.
First let me say, I'm in school for computers. I'm no naive little chicken when it comes to the computer. I know how to get in there and look up anything that I want. You can't fool me when it comes to the computer...many have tried...many have failed. I finally gave up after always hearing the same thing, "It's a damn virus! I haven't been looking at porn! Maybe it was YOU looking at it!" Umm...ok? A virus doesn't do a particular Google search for a specific person. Didn't think of that did you? Also a virus doesn't look up specific videos on just "red heads" (his favorite kind of woman)and even if by some chance one virus did...why did you sit and watch the whole video? Mhmm...I can see that too. Busted!
Anyways, I gave up trying to help. It got so bad that I refused to sleep in the bed with him. I always slept on the couch. He was never home before 9 or 10 p.m. and on the weekends would sleep in until 2 or 3, then go out all night. I stopped all sex between us. One, I didn't want to be hurt anymore and two, I had no idea who else he was sleeping with. I'd rather not have any sexual diseases thank you.
Ready for the best part? Shortly after Christmas, he disappears for an entire night. He wouldn't answer the phone or return any texts. He shows up for a few minutes to change clothes, I ask him about the disappearance, he gets mad, leaves again and shows back up early the next morning to change clothes for work. I block the door demanding to know what is going on. He says, "we'll talk about it tonight." that's all he would say. I noticed his wedding ring was off so I replied by taking mine off and handing it to him while saying, "I'm supposing this is what you want to talk about?" He wouldn't respond and left. That night he comes home, walks in the door and says...and I quote..."I'm not in love with you anymore. I want a divorce."
I'm not going to play dumb here and lie. I begged. Even on my knees to get him to stay. Why?? Many reasons but the biggest was our son. I was willing to live the rest of my life in hell for that little boy. Our son, who was in his room during all of this heard me crying, stormed down the hall way, buffs up to his dad and says, "What are you doing to my mommy????" Jack looked mortified. The one man in my life who stood up for me was three years old. It took a three year old to stand up for a woman when his 25 year old dad should have. Needless to say, it was over. He left. Came to visit a few times then disappeared again. Found out a few weeks later that he was living with a new girlfriend. Where did he meet his new girlfriend?? At work! Yep! There ya go. Needless to say their relationship didn't last long. The day of our divorce he tried to beg once again for us to be together. I was numb from head to toe at that point. I vowed never to take him back or be put in that position by any man ever again. And I stand by that. My son deserves his mother. That's what he needs. And as much as he still loves his father I can't force myself to tell that little boy the truth.
Until now, no one has known the truth about our relationship. My family doesn't know, his family surely doesn't know. I just keep pretending and letting them smack me down saying it's my fault. I was even told by his mother that they all thought our son wasn't his. Lovely huh?
One more tid bit...while being physically raped at least once a week while we were married, I finally spoke up between sobs one night about him raping me. His answer..."It's not considered rape if you're married."
Ladies, get out if this is happening to you. Don't worry what people will say. Just get out. Don't be stupid like I was. Because I can promise you, when you lay down to go to sleep at night even years after it's ended you will still find yourself wanting to weep and expecting it to happen again. The pain never truly goes away.
Do I feel better after getting the truth out? Yes, a little. There's much more to tell but I'm tired, my son is home sick, and I have a lot to do today so that will have to wait. I'd feel much better if his family knew the truth about him, but I won't do that. It will all come out when the book is published and I'm sure I'll be slammed down by then and called all kinds of names but I can't remain silent any longer.
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