I was 17! Everyone thought I was full of joy to be carrying this child. I was filled with fear. My life was going to come to a halt. I hadn't finished high school. Plans for college was out of the question. My dream to be a psychologist was stopped. And I just let it all go. I stopped dreaming that dream and started a new one. One that would include her.
I wanted this perfect little family; mother, father, and baby. So, I pushed for him to love me. He was dating again. He found a girl he liked. He asked me to drive them home one day. They sat in the back of my car, kissing and cuddling as if I didn't exist. The blade went deep into me and I left it there as a reminder of how he hurt me.
We eventually agreed to get together. Weeks of me begging and pleading for another shot. I don't beg and plead for anything! I thought I needed to sacrifice my pride for what was right for our child. She deserved to have both of us.
We moved into this house. I had a seperate apartment upstairs. He was going to live downstairs with his BF and some other people that had agreed to split the bills. They were all friends. I was the outsider in this. These were people he had a long standing relationship with and they were all new to me. Except, his BF and I went to elementary school together. We actually dated in 5th grade.
His room downstairs was hardly ever slept in. He spent most nights in my bed. So, when the next knife entered, it went even deeper than the first. I knew I wasn't his dream girl. I didn't fit the criteria. I am a plain jane, freckled, and ordinary. He would describe this woman to me that only existed in his mind but it would make me feel so inferior.
I was the only one with a running car. It became the house car. I didn't care to drive much anyway. His BF took him to see his X girlfriend. He came home with hickies all around his neck. Trying at first to hide them from me but, they were hard to miss. He said that it didn't go beyond that and I couldn't figure out how it went that far.
Every night he was in my bed. Every night we would "make love." I was ready to pack up and move home. That night he spent the night in his room downstairs. I called my father and told him I wanted to come home. He told me I needed to work things out. I needed to make it work for the baby. So, I stayed. I forgave him and he spent every night next to me.
The X and his BF would talk in military lingo when the girls were around. They thought it went over our heads. We pretended not to know. We allowed them to believe we were ignorant to what was being said. I was often the discussion topic. His BF didn't think the baby was his and he didn't really care for me. He thought I was trapping the X. He would ask him if he wanted to be with me. His reply was I don't know or simply no. He wanted to do the right thing for our child as well. But, he didn't love me!
