Break on through to the other side! I feel like, to steal a simile from Stephen King, I've been trying to fight my way out of a nylon stocking. I couldn't get out of the negativity and break free of the downward spiral I seemed to be attached to. The past week has been very hard, but I can already feel big changes germinating beneath the surface and I'm excited.
I'm not just excited, though. I'm terrified, anxious, lost, sad, mournful, and uncertain. What else am I going to do, though? I have to keep moving forward and hope for the best. There is no more turning back for me. Maybe I should explain what has happened.
I had worked at the warehouse for three days, and I came home Thursday with incredible body aches. At first I assumed it had just been my body becoming accustomed to manual labor, but I soon realized that it was more serious than that. My back was absolutely killing me. Having experienced kidney infections during my pregnancy with my son, I already had an idea that I had one. N and I went to the pharmacy to get some Tylenol, where I could barely stand up and even began to cry from the severity of the pain. He seemed mildly sympathetic, but shrugged it off as being sore from work. Later that night, I was feverish and pain-stricken. I couldn't sleep and he tried to insist that I have sex with him anyway! I couldn't believe it. Of course, I refused. He tried to force me to and I became incredibly angry. I fought back with everything I had, despite my overwhelming pain. Then he choked me. Yes, he's choked me before. This time, though, it was different. I tried to gasp and discovered that my airway was COMPLETELY blocked. I couldn't even get a wheeze. Of course, I began to panic. I thought he might actually kill me this time. I felt so terrified and out of control. He let go, and I told myself I was going to file a police report and leave on Friday.
Friday came and he went to work, but I found that driving was going to be out of the question for me. I simply laid in misery, waiting for him to get out and take me to the ER. My sister ended up taking me and I told her what happened, so at the hospital I arranged to be a "confidential patient" and asked to talk to a social worker.
I made an appointment at the YWCA for Monday, and I didn't end up getting released until Sunday night. So I spent the night at my sister's when I got out, went to my appointment, and got put on the waiting list for the shelter. No one will tell me or even give me an estimate for how long it will be, but it doesn't matter. My sister and her husband took me to get my car last night. I found an adoption agency that will work with me in spite of the fact that N has said he will not consent to the adoption. My mom gave me the number of someone who takes in pregnant women awaiting adoption. My life seems fairly chaotic right now, but I feel like a dark cloud has been lifted from above me. I can BREATHE. I can think clearly. I can be myself. I feel like I just emerged from a restricting cocoon and now I am spreading my radiant wings, preparing to take flight.
Of course, I'm having such a hard time coping with the reality that I am not going to raise my daughter. I saw a little girl in the parking lot taking unsteady steps while holding her mother's hand, and I cried. I'm not going to teach my little girl how to walk. I'm not going to snuggle her at night, nurse her, and inhale the baby shampoo scent of her soft baby hair when I kiss her head. I felt as if my soul would shatter -- but then I thought, someone WILL do those things for her. Perhaps better than I could. Just because I can't snuggle her doesn't mean she won't get snuggled. Just because I won't be teaching her to walk doesn't mean she won't be taught. Just because the person raising my daughter in my stead won't have given birth to her doesn't mean she won't love her.
My sister in law, after having heard about the expenses covered for the birth mother by some adoption agencies, made a ridiculous comment about how maybe she should start having kids and putting them up for adoption so she could get this money or housing or whatever. I know she didn't mean any harm by it; she just doesn't know. But really? Do you honestly think you could house a baby in your womb for nine months and give away a piece of you without any qualms just because you got some housing assistance or living expenses paid? Do you really believe that any amount of money could erase the ache of having to part with a child you created? Is she really that insensitive or oblivious to the emotional trauma this is? This is my CHILD! God forbid she actually has such cold detachment to her own children that the decision would be so simple.
Of course I'd be lying if I said that I don't miss N, but not in a way that makes me think that going back would solve anything. I just mourn the person who never was. I think of the things he did when he was pretending to be this loving person, and it breaks my heart. Not because I want him, but because he wasn't real and I fell for it. Because I did love him and it's painful to realize that he only faked mutual emotion toward me. Because I let myself be vulnerable and once again paid the price. Because I wonder if there's really anybody in the whole world who will ever truly feel the way he pretended to. Because I doubt real love even exists anymore. I think one person in a relationship loves, and the other just fakes it. One person gives everything and it's never enough for the other. One person gives her heart and the heart of the other can never be captured, at least not by her, but she continues her pathetic vain attempts. Love isn't the miracle we've been led to believe it is.
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