Final Decision.

I have already left you in my mind.  My heart has no more room for you, you’ve been evicted and the doors are locked.  You have broken it for the last time, and I know what I am worth and what I deserve. 

 

Friday morning, while I was driving to work, I suddenly remembered that we had another option other than abortion – adoption.  I hadn’t thought about it because in my previous situation, Noe hadn’t been willing to consent which made the whole process more difficult and stressful.  But we, well if we agreed and did this together, how wonderful would that be?  I imagined us finding a loving gay couple who would be able to provide the life and opportunities our sure-to-be brilliant and gifted child would thrive from.  This being probably my last opportunity to give birth, I considered that I could turn it into a positive and a blessing into multiple lives with your cooperation.  Knowing the joy the parents would experience lifted my heart a little, and if I knew from the beginning that it was planned and I was in a role of surrogate, I would be even more emotionally prepared for the grief that would follow.  This seemed like a loving, selfless thing we could do together and I was excited to talk to you about it.

 

I came into work and sent you a message, “What do you think about adoption”?  You chastised me for “doing this over text”, although curiously the day before you hadn’t had any problem whatsoever discussing abortion over text.  I was confused, and apologized for stressing you out.  It was apparent that you didn’t have the same feeling about it as I did, so I backed off on the topic.  That night I laid in bed.  You were drinking.  I gagged a little and we talked about morning sickness.  You asked me about what I had messaged you earlier.  I hesitated.  Having serious discussions with you when you’re drinking is like walking through a minefield, and I was not sure that this was a smart idea.

 

I tried to reply in a nonchalant, lighthearted way.  I briefly touched on how when I was in my car and thought about it, it sounded like an idea worth discussing.  I mentioned a few of the reasons that I thought it would be worth considering, the joy it would bring to the parents.  You became agitated and I told you we didn’t have to talk about it right now.  I sensed danger and rolled over and said this was not a good time and we could talk about it the next day.  But you persisted.

 

You told me that you thought I had already decided on abortion.  I told you that I had, but it’s a complicated decision and I wanted to consider all viable options.  I hadn’t changed my mind, only decided to see what your thoughts and feelings were about adoption.  I wanted to decide together.  You became nasty, saying that you didn’t know what to do because the more you objected, the more I would want to do the opposite of what you wanted just to spite you.  You said something about it being my decision and I agreed.  Yes, it is my decision.  But I want to know your position and consider that too when I make it.  Ultimately it IS up to me, but I want your input. 

 

You seemed convinced that I was determined to find out what you wanted just so that I could do the opposite.  I was confused at the time, because when have I ever done that?  You’re the one who gives me things just to take them away.  You’re the one who, when asked nicely to clean up after yourself, shrugs and basically says fuck you and continues to leave your shit lying about to gather mold and maggots and attract bugs.  You seem to be constantly measuring just what would make me happy for the sole purpose of withholding it, or giving me the very opposite.  You’re the one who will give me snuggles one night, and when I try to use positive reinforcement and tell you how much I love it, and thank you for it profusely, and respond very positively – will, within the next few nights, refuse to let me even touch you.  Will call me a rapist for asking to hold your hand.  Only BECAUSE you know how much physical connection matters to me.  You’re the one who used to make out and sexually touch me until you could see that I was horny, then would sadistically switch gears and ask me if it was okay if we don’t have sex tonight, or if we could to this tomorrow.  Then you’d relish at my resulting frustration and use it as a reason to villainize me.  I had an expectation that you’d fuck me, and that makes me a rapist, and I think I own your body, other ridiculous shit.  You withhold sex and all physical affection only because you know I want it.  So who the hell are you to suggest that I am only asking your preference so I can deny it?  Project much?

 

When I told you about my adoption story with Sienna, I had in vulnerability and trust confided in you that the most hurtful thing people had said to me was, “I could never do that.”  As if to imply that they love their children so much more than I did, because they couldn’t give theirs up.  A backhanded compliment, as if to say they admire my heartlessness and lack of love to be able to do something so heartless that they themselves, in their superior parenting, could never bring themselves to do.  I know that what I did took MORE love than the average parent has for their baby.  To bring her into that situation, with Noe, and damn her to that existence….would that have been love?  That would have been selfishness.  That would have been focusing on ME and what I was comfortable with, putting the sacrifice on her.  I put it on me.  I disregarded my own wants and comfort to make the best decision for HER.  If you couldn’t have done that, you certainly can’t claim it’s because you’re a better human being.  It would indicate exactly the opposite.

 

Anyway, so remembering that, you drove that spear into my heart.  “I’m just not the type of person that could give my baby away.”  Really?  I had no words.  What was unsaid was even more toxic, the implication unforgivable.   You really went there.  I went silent, because this was officially danger zone conversation.  In my silence, you threw things and punched things in typical temper tantrum fashion.  I did not respond.  You stormed out of the room, banging the door and stomping down the hallway.  You really are the emotional equivalent of a five year old, I realize.  I feel so sorry for you.  After you finished you cigarette, you came back in and flopped yourself on the bed.  I stayed silent.

 

That’s when you said you would kill yourself if I didn’t have the abortion.  I remained silent.  You continued to mutter to yourself, making a show of psyching yourself up for suicide.  “You can do it, Joth.  It’s not that hard.  Come on, you need to just end it.  End it now.”  Etc. Etc.  Finally, I got tired of this obvious manipulation on your part and left the room and slept in the kids’ room.  The next day, you behaved as if it had never happened.  Just like the previous weekend when you had verbally abused me for daring to give your son the best birthday I could.  You’re dead to me.  There’s no loving you again.  I hate you for this and I’ll never forgive you.

So today, I made the appointment.  I’ll have the abortion, because I can’t go through that again trying to place a baby for adoption when the father won’t consent.  You’ll get what you wanted, but at what cost?  You’ve lost me forever.  And not because you wanted abortion.  I was okay with that too.  I was okay with having a civil, respectful discussion and coming to an agreement together.  I am NOT okay with the way you talked to me and tried to manipulate me into giving you what you wanted.  It wasn’t necessary and it wasn’t okay.  That was evil and wrong.