In which I self reflect (or something)

I have been feeling the need to write without quite knowing what to say.  It has been on me even more since running into a child I have rarely seen since my first year of teaching.  It has literally been years since I last saw her.  She was a student in my very first class and was absolutely wonderful.  My entire class could be off track and she would doing exactly what she knew she was supposed to do.  Seeing her made me realize how much I have changed.  Change is necessary and inevitable and quite honestly so fascinating.  

Describe the changes?  I don't know that I can but I have this need to try.  So, without further ado, here we go.  (Random tidbit of knowledge about myself -- I cannot read, hear, think, or say "here we go" without it being in Peter Pan's voice and a smile creeping on my face.)  

Obviously there are a plethora of superficial changes: my hair is longer, the color is completely natural, I've gained weight, etc. but there are far more important changes.  Some are good but mostly they are worrisome.   I will start with the fact I question motives.  Well, if I am being honest I question everything, but motives are the place it hits me the hardest.  The person I was when I started teaching never questioned anyone's motives and now there are few people I don't question.  It shames me because I will have these thoughts that I am immediately ashamed of.  I never used to be like that.  I took everything at face value and never really questioned anything.  I definitely learned the hard way people are not what they seem, which I think it is an important lesson, but I am not happy with the results.  I wish I could have that knowledge without also having these accompanying thoughts that go along with it.  It is what I find myself praying for most often -- to get rid of these thoughts I have.  It's so hard to explain them.  They are literally instantaneous and I immediately regret them and push them aside, but I wish they would never come at all.

Another change centers on praying.  I used to spend so much time praying for the students in my class.  I would wager I prayed more in one night my first year teaching than I have prayed for my class this entire year combined.  I used to also fall asleep praying and wake up still praying throughout the night.  Now I fall asleep thinking/worrying/whatever but definitely not praying.  The problem seems to be I have difficulties separating praying from First Assembly.  Even now typing about it my eyes swell up with tears.  I've heard it said (I think by John Green) that unfortunately the mark humans most often leave behind are scars and I think that's the case here.  I have forgiven everyone involved with First Assembly, but it still hurts.  I think that's a mistake people make -- thinking that because something still hurts it means they haven't got over it.  The fact of the matter is the brain is a tricky thing.  We can forgive but we cannot forget.  Not really.  The thought is always there, waiting to take us by surprise when we least expect it.  What a luxury forgetting would be!  

Another change is that I used to know what kind of person I was and now I am not too sure.  I don't think I could even accurately choose adjectives to describe myself.  I do wonder what it is about me that attracts controlling individuals and/or that makes people think I would be easily controlled.  Because that has been a theme throughout my life -- people thinking I am easily controlled and that they can "put me in my place" so to speak.  I guess it's similar to how kindness is so often mistaken for flirtation... my niceness is mistaken for being a pushover.  But the weird thing is I have never been easily controlled.  I am sure I mentioned this in my blog before, but when everything happened and I finally started sharing it with people, some of my friends from college were in shock.  They mentioned how regardless of the situation I am in, I never succumb to peer pressure and always do what I think is right.  I think that's still true, but why don't the controlling people see that?  Would make my life much easier.  

I just had the realization that the hardest part of my journey has nothing to do with anyone else in the world other than myself.   What has always been the hardest thing for me to come to terms with isn't what happened with the church (people are people) or S (let's be real -- I didn't know him at all), but rather accept where my life had taken me.  I never wanted to be a single mom: my dream was to get married to a wonderful man who could support me and allow me to stay at home "barefooted in the kitchen" (I mostly just say this to make my feminist friends cringe, but there's truth to it).  I always wanted to teach, but at the same time I wanted to be the mom that was always around and was involved in PTA and volunteered in my child's classroom and always had cookies baking and a clean house.  That's not going to happen and that's ok.  

I also struggle a lot with the guilt I feel for almost aborting my Malachi.  Sometimes it makes me catch my breath to think that this amazing, wonderful, delightful boy almost didn't exist by my choice.  It is so scary to think of how close I was to having an abortion.  I know it does no good to dwell on could have, would have, what if's, etc., but it is inevitable.  The biggest problem is those feelings and thoughts don't hit when I am happy and carefree, but when I am already upset about other things, so it's like a double whammy. 

In which I create a key to remember the fake names I assigned people

Geno/Geo (apparently at some point I added an N) -- college pastor at First Assembly
Gale -- downstairs neighbor who giggled a lot and is the reason I started going to First Assembly
Roe -- my bible study leader
X -- the new bible study leader who was just taking over when the meeting occurred
S -- my baby daddy
Eliza -- good friend who drove me to the clinic
Sara -- Gale's good friend
Liz -- one of the girls who we went swimming with.  Had something going on with Gale at first
Jessica -- member of my small group; warned not to tell about the meeting


I will update this as I add people or if I realize I left people out...

In which I speak more about First Assembly

Another clarification of sorts -- I have changed the names of almost everyone for the purposes of this blog.  Every single name from First Assembly has been changed and most other names as well -- the only ones that I kept are people who I don't say anything mean about and very close friends who I knew wouldn't care. 

It's interesting because when people find out where I went to church they often have a hard time swallowing what happened -- people who know me believe me because they know I wouldn't lie about anything like this.  Yes, I have told lies before; however long ago I learned when you lie there is so much you have to remember whereas when you are honest, you have nothing to remember.  People are often so surprised with how open and honest I am.  If you ask me anything I will answer it.  Sometimes I try to evade the question, but if you're point blank with your question, I will answer it regardless of what it is.  The problem with this is that you are going to get the truth and far too often people don't really want the truth.  I think perhaps I can admit things so easily because I am fairly certain the emotions I feel and the things I do are things that everyone thinks and does -- the only difference between other people and myself is that I am open about it.  IE in my first post about the foundation of my story, I admit I facebook stalked the girl Jon dated after me.  That is something every single girl I know has done at some point or the other, the only difference is no one else admits it.  Or if they do admit it, it's to their girlfriend and admitted in secrecy.  I have always liked the cliche "whatever you do today, you have to sleep with tonight" and firmly believe if I can't even admit to what I did, then I am never going to be able to sleep with.  There is also a quote by CS Lewis I really like "I have learned now that while those who speak about one's miseries usually hurt, those who keep silent hurt more."  I take this to heart, so even when I do something I am ashamed of -- like say almost have an abortion -- I do share with other people... even if it's almost three years later :)  

Anyway, the point is I am always honest with people -- if they hurt my feelings I tell them, if I like the way their hair looks, I tell them, etc.  I think this is really great because it helps me to build friendships with people, but it's also horrible because when it comes to relationships with guys I am too honest and most guys don't want that -- they want a girl who seems perfect.  I am actually really great at relationships and could easily pretend to be that, but I don't want a relationship wherein the foundation is a lie -- I've been that route with S and we all know how it turns on.  So, from day one I am exactly myself.  If a guy says something I don't like, I tell him.  If he doesn't call me when he's supposed to, I don't pretend I am ok with it -- I tell him how I feel.  How does it work out for me?  Well, I am still single so perhaps not well.  However, how it is better to give off the vibe I'm so cool with all that and then slowly change months in when the guy is emotionally attached to me?  To me that's nothing short of deception.  At the end of the day I firmly do believe when I find the guy for me he will like who I am and we will have a solid foundation and then perhaps my dream of getting married and having 398043285032859032 children will be reached. 
 
Anyway, apparently tangents are my thing because I have absolutely no idea how I got from talking about First Assembly to my dreams of being a wife and having lots of babies.  Back on track... what I know about about First Assembly could fill quite a few blog posts, but I suspect what I don't know could fill quite a few books.  I will only ever post on here things I was there for and saw firsthand; however, what other people have shared with me about their experiences make mine look like nothing.  Sometimes I want to share some of the more messed up stories with other people, but I don't because a.) they aren't my stories to share and b.) there is always the possibility they aren't true.  While I believe it all and in some cases have seen proof, I know for a fact everything I say is true.  I don't want to say something that's false and someone else know it's false and then have them question my story.  Does that make sense?  So, I keep this focused on my truths.  I also don't know at what point sharing someone's story is OK and at what point it becomes gossip.  Try as I might, I know I am not level headed and unbiased when I am sharing my experiences; however, everything I say is true.  I go to lengths not to exaggerate and in some points I make it appear a lot better than it was.  IE -- think back to my story on that two hour meeting and how condensed it was.  It was a two hour bash Flo session -- I could have said more.  For a long time I wanted nothing more than to bash First Assembly... much longer than I care to admit.  It took me a long time to forgive them.  I think I have -- I don't feel any hatred towards them and maybe they've changed.  Geno is gone now (he is actually now at the International House of Prayer) and they no longer appear to have a college pastor.

So, some background now.  The first night I met Geno we were all hanging out at Gale's apartment.  Geno spent so much time talking to me that I honestly wondered if he had a crush on me.  At that point I had no idea he was the college pastor.  That's something I didn't learn until I went to the church for the first time.  At that point, there was a club across University that often put on shows.  For a while it was Common Grounds, then it was 1982, and then something else.  It doesn't matter what it was, but I went there on a whim with Geno and Gale for some show.  From the apartment to the show and then a bit within, Geno held my hand, which furthered my belief he was into me.  I don't remember if I knew he was the pastor or not at that point, but what I do know for a fact is that at that point I had absolutely no idea that he had a girlfriend -- I didn't learn about her for quite a long time.  Between meeting him and finding out about her, I flirted with Geno a lot.  Naturally I am not very flirtatious but there are some guys I just absolutely love flirting with and for many months one was Geno.  I felt so guilty about the flirting after I found out about his girlfriend.  To make matters worse, she was not only absolutely beautiful, but extremely sweet and kind as well.  I daresay she was practically perfect in every way.

There was one night Gale, Geno, and myself went over to a girls apartment (we will call her Liz) that Gale had something going on with.  The four of us spent the night (I'm talking hours here) swimming and playing around.  Was a lot of fun.  We wore normal swimming attire and the fact I'm about to discuss said swimming attire has a relevant point.  I wore the same bathing suit I've had forever -- black one piece halter.  Liz had a bikini and both boys wore swimming trunks, no shirts.  Come July 4th of that year a group of us from TJM all went to Gennie Springs, at which point we all also wore normal swimming attire.  If you will recall I mentioned that camping trip we all went to when school started.  We went to the beach one day and when we got to the beach we were promptly told the girls were not allowed to wear bathing suits -- we had to have shorts and shirts to be completely covered.  I was flabbergasted -- I had gone swimming with the pastor twice before this point and we all wore normal bathing suits; however, they were not only adamant about it, but when I announced I didn't bring any sort of cover I was told I couldn't swim (I kind you not).  I countered by saying it wasn't like I had a two piece and that my bathing suit wasn't that reveling, at which point they sent Geno's girlfriend to judge my bathing suit.  They literally created a wall around me with towels.  Well, as we all know I have a pretty large chest, so of course my swimming suit showed off cleavage.  It was decided I could not be around the men at the church in my swim suit, but luckily another girl had shorts and a top I could put on.  As we all sat on the super crowded beach with TONS of girls in bikinis I remember wondering why it mattered what I was wearing when all these other random girls were showing off far more skin than even my normal bra and underwear show off.  Since I'm not one to hide my feelings, I asked, and was told something along the lines of we shouldn't tempt our brothers.  In hindsight this should have prepared me for the meeting with Geno because it was obvious the church felt that when it comes to sex, males have no powers and the females are the tempters.  

This is another story about one of the members of First Assembly who is now on their staff.  He was actually S's small group leader who was one of the members of that late night meeting.  Throughout that meeting, he never said anything.  I'm not sure any person in the room made anything of it, but they should have.  Why wasn't he condemning me the way the others were?  Well, the answer that is that I think he recognized he had no room to be judging me.  Why?  Because not even a week before that I encountered him making out and feeling a girl up at the park!!  How did this happen?  Well, it wasn't a playground park -- it was Ring Park which is a trial I used to frequent with my Zeus (chow-shepherd mix).  I liked it because it was a good amount of walking, so got him a great workout, was mostly a loop so only had to backtrack a bit, and I never saw anyone there.  My mom used to always try to talk me out of going there alone fearing I would run into someone scary; however, I always countered that Zeus would do far more damage to another person than they could do to me unless of course they had a gun, and if they had a gun another person being with me wouldn't help me either.  Anyway, Zeus, my sister, and I were there one day.  We were trying to be more fit at the time, so we were jogging/running.  Although we were running, we weren't making much noise, so we easily startled a couple who were making out.  Imagine my surprise when it was that small group leader.  I actually wouldn't have realized it was him if he hadn't acknowledged me.  During the meeting he kept looking down and I could tell he was uncomfortable -- I've often wondered if he expected me to announce what I saw him doing or if he merely was uncomfortable with the situation.  I would like to think it was the second, but I figure it's likely the first.  Or maybe everyone already knew and he had already sat through one of those meetings -- they do happen all the time you know.  

I've been a big fan of CS Lewis since I read the book Mere Christianity.  I was not going to First Assembly at the time -- was long before then.  As I've read more of Lewis' work, I've realized that one reason I loved First Assembly so much is the head pastor preaches a very similar, sometimes exact, message to Lewis.  The problem is First Assembly doesn't live it.  Do I?  That's tough to say, which means the answer must be no.  Things like this are black and white.  I once did, though.  I recently reread my old journals and was blown away with some of my thoughts and writing.  I will also read some of my thoughts in the margins of my bible now and wonder how I ever connected some of the passages.  I know the basics still -- I know the answer to everything is Jesus.  I have no doubt he is God.  I also know my sins are forgiven, but there's more to it than that.  At First Assembly I really served the Lord -- I did so much.  I know I only talk about the negative, but you should know the happiest time of my life was when I was doing things for God through First Assembly.  I don't think everyone that goes to the church is bad -- quite the opposite actually.  I think most of the people are really good people, it's just a few of them aren't and while the sermons are great, make no mistake about it -- they do not practice what they preach.  However, I know when I was going there the fruit I was producing was real and I saw some wonderful things taking place there.  I know my God is an awesome God who can take any thing in the world and make good out of it, so I have no doubt that even though there are some serious issues within the church, God is still using it for good.  It's just a shame because think of the good that could be happening if it was all real.  

In which I discuss my faults in the relationship and custody is assigned.

I stayed in the hospital one night with Malachi and was only apart from him for a few minutes because they insisted he go to the nursery without me.  I later learned that they couldn't take him without me, but apparently it's common practice for them to say that so all the moms don't crowd.  I am not pleased that they place more value on their comfort of not having to deal with parents than they place on the parents' right to stay with their kids, but at the same time I recognize I should have been aware of my rights before I went to the hospital.  I am far too trusting and naive about pretty much everything in my life.  I always just expect people to be honest and do the right thing. 

I had a bassinet by my bed that Malachi slept in the first few hours on our first night home.  Every time I woke up he had somehow managed to move all the way towards me with his face facing me (aka pressed against the side) and I was convinced he was going to smother.  So, I ended up bringing him to bed at some point.  Since then he has slept every night with me.  I know in America we are told how unsafe co-sleeping is, but it felt natural, and once I started researching it, I changed my attitude towards it.  To this day Malachi has never had a sleepless night and I firmly believe it's because of the co-sleeping. 

Between my fear of S, the shingles, all the stitches I had to get, etc., I ended up going home to Cedar Key with my mom so she could take care of me.  I am glad I did -- all I had to do was take care of Malachi.  She cooked me breakfast, came by to give me drinks throughout the day, made my lunch, and either her or Anne cooked dinner every night.  I don't know if I could have made it through breastfeeding if I had to do any of those things -- it was really difficult.  I always thought it would be easy and come naturally, but alas I was wrong.   It was so, incredibly painful I would cry anytime he attached.  I kept repeating "short term pain, long term gain" in order to not give up.  He would nurse every 1-2 hours during the day and 2-3 at night.  After two weeks I had to go to Gainesville for a well baby check.  I had texted S once I got to CK and told him Malachi was born.  He only asked if Malachi had had "any unnecessary surgeries" (he wanted to know if I had had a circumcision performed).  He didn't ask if he was healthy, his size, or any of the normal questions.  However, when I went to Gainesville for the appointment I asked if he wanted to see Malachi. First he said yes but then announced he was on campus and didn't have a camera and without a camera there was no point in meeting him. I thought it was weird but told him if he took the bus home to get his camera, I could pick him up and take him back to campus. So, that's what we did. He took some pictures of Malachi and then left, even though his next class wasn't for another hour and I had been willing to let him hang out the entire time. At that point he also gave me a gift card to Cloud 9. 

I later learned why he wanted the pictures and why he gave me the gift card. He had created an account on a Christian dating website (Christian mingle) and wanted the pictures for his profile and there was a question on the site about the best gift you had given anyone. He used the Cloud 9 gift card as his answer. He presented himself as such an involved dad and me as a horrible person. He also said he was divorced. Such a liar! I actually printed out the profile in case I ever wanted to confront him. 

I was supposed to go back to work full time after four weeks, but couldn't stand the idea. So, I asked my principal if I could come back part time with me working the morning and my sub doing the rest of the day. She agreed so long as my sub was willing to do it. Luckily I had a wonderful sub and she went for it. So, I would work from 7:15-11:00 and then leave, which was wonderful. 

S never really came over, and when he did, Malachi would throw the biggest fits. When I tried to invite him over he would show up literally hours late (one day it was four hours late with him arriving after 8:30, knowing I went to sleep between 9:00 and 9:30). It was so frustrating. He would try to fight with me and I just completely ignored it on the grounds I didn't want Malachi to see it. Come summertime S announced he was moving to Bradenton to live with his mom. He lived there for about 10 months and over that time saw Malachi about five times. He would literally text me when he was in my neighborhood and say "almost there". Twice when he tried I was at Disney. It was always so infuriating. 

“Whatever you do, He will make good of it. But not the good He had prepared for you  if you had obeyed him.” -- CS Lewis

I always come back to that thought. Malachi is wonderful and awesome and far more than I could possibly deserve. God turned my horrible situation into something good. He also ended up giving me sole parental responsibility (I am not foolish enough to believe S did that on his own). It was always something I struggled praying about. 

I would pray endlessly for S not to get 50%, but as soon as I would say it I would realize I didn't deserve it as I am no better than S. I didn't lie about my past the way he did, but I lied. I told him once I was married it was going to be forever and I divorced him. Sure, at first glance the two are completely different but the thing is they aren't -- at the end of the day a lie is a lie.

That's something I struggle with because to me intentions count. IE someone who steals for their own selfish reasons is far worse than someone who steals to feed a starving family. However, even though to me they are different, to God it's both sin. Both of us had sex before marriage, so we both have blame there. So, while I would be praying for full custody I would also have inner turmoil because I knew S was likely praying for the same thing and God could only answer one of our prayers. For whatever reason He answered mine. I have always been blessed far more than I deserve to me. Sure, what S did was wrong, but it's not like I was perfectly clean. I don't remember if I posted about it or not, but one reason I was always so surprised I got pregnant is because we hardly had sex. I told him really mean (but honestly super funny) things about his inability to do anything in bed and how bad he smelled. Smell in general is a big deal to me -- one of my small joys in life is walking past a male who has amazing cologne on. I had myself tested a ridiculous number of times because I was totally convinced he had to have something. The point is we both said mean things. Was mine as often as his? No -- it was rare; however, that doesn't negate the fact it was wrong. 

As I started trying to get over the whole meeting with the church, I shifted from being mad at them to being mad at S -- we fought at least a dozen times because I was all like "what kind of man wouldn't stand up for me?" Then I would talk about all my ex's and compare him to them with what I thought they would do and always end it with "I can only imagine what Tony (my stepdad technically, but he raised me from the time I was two so I consider him my dad) would have done!" So, I wasn't being a very good person in regards to forgiving him either.  In a previous post when I discussed how I knew I was making a mistake marrying him, this is actually how I knew. I have pretty defined gender roles in my head and I think it's a mans duty to protect his girl and that's what I want. I've also always experienced it. All the guys I've dated were pretty protective and I've had weird instances with random guys I don't even know being overprotective of me. The example that comes to mind occurred my second year of college. A friend and I had been out drinking and I was pretty far gone. On the way home we stopped at the crazy ghetto station a block away from my house. There were a bunch of guys fighting and the girl I was with got in between me and one of the guys. One of them noticed and I forget exactly what he said, but after laughing he told her she didn't need to worry about me because I give off some vibe and no one in there was going to bother me. So weird! But happens frequently. Maybe that's how I've stayed so innocent and naive my whole life -- I give off some weird vibe!

Eventually I told S we needed a time sharing schedule and to do it ourselves to avoid attorney fees. We agreed that he would come once a week while I was nursing, then have Malachi one day a week once he stopped nursing, and once Malachi started school he would live with me for the weekdays and have every other weekend with S with summertime being split evenly between the two of us. I hated the idea of such a schedule but knew it was better than 50%. This was during the time he was living in Bradenton -- October of 2011. I filed and a few days before our court day he emailed me saying he was just going to give me full custody. He actually wanted to give up all his rights, but my attorney told me that was a really long ordeal and he could change his mind at any time so I was better off getting sole custody and dealing with his rights later.

 The only catch to him giving me custody was he didn't want to pay child support. A mother isn't legally allowed to opt out of child support, as it is for the child. So, what we did was set it at the lowest rate Florida allows (250 a month) and say he would pay me directly. Sometimes he pays, sometimes he doesn't.  He often sends just 100. I keep detailed records of every conversation we have, every time he sees Malachi, and how much money he sends. So, when he recently moved back to town and informed me he wanted to see Malachi once a week I told him I wanted the money he owed me. To his credit he has been sending me 500 a month for a few months now. 

He has seen him the once a month he wanted December, January, February, March, and April. It's hard on me because Malachi cries the whole time he's around. He is actually ok with S as long as he keeps his distance. Then S always, always, always criticizes him. He says what a big nose Malachi has, or what big ears he has, or that he has a butt chin like his mama (which I don't think I have!!), or other mean things. He's actually a lot nicer to him in person than he is on Facebook -- there he called Malachi a Mexican baby and said Malachi isn't his. He has never wished Malachi a happy birthday or purchased him anything.

Malachi doesn't know his name and doesn't call him daddy or dad or any of those names. The selfish part of me hopes he never calls him those names, but I will support whatever Malachi wants to do. He actually recently (think last night) heard people saying "daddy" so he's been calling me daddy. It was funny at first, but now that he's done it so much in public I find it a bit embarrassing. 

I am going to change routes here because it's obviously something I can rant about forever. The good news is the visits are only once a month and I can handle it. It's probably good for me too -- overall my life is pretty much wonderful so it's best to throw in some hardships so I stay grounded. 

In which I condense nine months of pregnancy into one rather long blog post

This is the post I have been most excited about writing, while simultaneously dreading it – I am writing about my pregnancy.  This post will detail things I have never, ever told anyone else because I’ve never wanted to say the words aloud – when I have chosen to remember these events, it’s been late at night while I am lying in bed with sleep eluding me.   This was hands-down the worst time of my life and looking back I am so ashamed of the person I was.  Even now I am tearing up thinking about it because with all my other faults, there has never, ever been a time in my life I was ashamed of myself.  So, here goes… 

After my workshop ended and I found out I was pregnant, I started waitressing at the Biscuit again.  I have gone back a few summers because honestly the money is really great – I would make more money working there full time than I do teaching.  It was there that I saw Geno for the first time. He was having a meeting with some girls from TJM (likely telling them they were going to hell for some reason or another).  At this point no one in TJM really knew what had happened, so they were happy to see me. During the course of talking to Geno and the girls I kept a huge smile on my face.  I talked about how great my life was and inquired about how they were all doing before excusing myself and returning to the kitchen, at which point I promptly went to the dishwashing area and started crying.  I couldn’t stop – at this point I hadn’t cried much about everything and it was like once I opened myself up to it, there was no turning back.  The poor dishwasher was so concerned.  When I finally was able to speak I chose to merely say a guy was out there that was really mean to me.  The dishwasher was flabbergasted and said “who could be mean to you?  You’re one of the nicest people I’ve ever met.”  His comments made me laugh and his kind words were enough to make me pull myself together.  I spent the rest of the time avoiding the area Geno was sitting in.

At this point in time my sister and I were preparing to move from the apartment we had lived in since my second year of college to a townhouse across town.  The townhouse was significantly larger, but we had to be out by the last day of July and couldn’t move into our new place until the 5^th of August, which meant we had to move all our stuff into a storage unit.  Packing up the apartment that had been our home for so many years (over six!) and moving into a storage unit kept me from having to deal with my feelings.  I had briefly considered abortion, but at that point in my life I was completely pro-life.  I was one of those obnoxious people that pushed my beliefs about the matter onto anyone who would listen and could never, ever understand why anyone would even consider it.  So, I ultimately decided I wouldn’t go that route.  It was a hard choice for me -- much harder than I thought it would be.  I honestly had always assumed it wasn’t an option I would even consider.  I decided against it not because I viewed it as murder or any other extreme line of thinking, but rather because every single person I knew who had had one lived to regret it.  I didn’t want to always wonder what my baby would look like, what type of person it would be, etc.  I figured having a baby as single mom would be super difficult and stressful, but having an abortion and regretting it would be unbearable.

So, I went about my moving business, then I went to Cedar Key for a few days, and then moved into my new apartment.  While I was packing I started watching NCIS reruns and got really into it, so I purchased some of the DVDs.  Once I moved into my new apartment I would spend my whole day sitting in the dark, in my PJs, watching NCIS on my laptop.  There were days I ate nothing and didn’t even leave my bed until I knew my sister was going to be home soon and didn’t want to deal with her judging my behavior. Once I ran out of NCIS I just laid in my bed, in my PJs, crying all day.  In hindsight this was obviously a serious problem, but at the time I didn’t realize anything was out of the ordinary.  My nights were all spent on the phone with S fighting.  I wanted to do adoption and he wouldn’t even entertain the idea.  He told me he wanted the baby and it was going to grow up hearing the story of us so the baby wouldn’t repeat our mistakes.  I commented I didn’t want my baby to hear about the First Assembly story because I didn’t want the baby to think that its mom was a prostitute.  S told me that the baby needed to know my character and what type of person I was.  We would yell at each other – my sister texted and beeped in many nights because even though my room was upstairs and I had my fan going and she was downstairs she could still hear us fighting. He was obnoxiously cruel and would say such odd things – including telling me he hoped my baby hated Disney.  I mean really? What does that have to do with anything? Just another example of how odd and weird some of the things were.  I preferred odd and weird to the alternative, but it was still not fun.

It was the same routine for a few weeks. Stay in the dark all day crying and fight with S at night.  I don’t know why he kept calling me every night to fight with me and I also don’t know why I answered.  I was so scared of him I didn’t even tell him where I was living. As I sit here, I realize I was not the most rational person – why answer?  I have no insights into my reasoning – I haven’t the faintest idea what I was thinking. 

The week before school started I knew something had to change.  I called an old friend from high school, Eliza, whom I had known since I was literally two years old. She came over in the middle of the night and I told her everything.  I also told her I was considering abortion again.  She listened to me and told me she would support me in whatever decision I decided.  After she left S and I had another fight and I made a decision – I couldn’t live my whole life fighting like this.  So, I decided I was going to have the abortion.

I called Eliza the next day and she rearranged her schedule, found a sitter for her kid, and picked me up to take me to have the abortion.  It was across town and the clinic shared the name with my doctor’s office, which I found amusing.  I checked in and was called back within minutes.  They went through the process with me – what would happen – and then what we would tell people happened.  I was going to receive a note from them saying I came in with bleeding and eventually had a miscarriage. Perfect.  No one would have to know the truth, especially since the names matched up.  I signed all the appropriate paperwork and went back to the room to have my procedure.  I was feeling so much relief at the idea of not having any ties to S and not having to fight with him every day for the rest of my life.  After I sat down, the woman hooked me up to an ultrasound machine along with a few others, at which point I could see the baby and hear it’s heart beating.  She then said she had to go do something and left for fifteen whole minutes.  It was in this room, hooked up to the machine, and watching the baby that I realized I couldn’t go through with it.  When she came back, I said I had changed my mind, and she smiled.  I have no idea that was her intentions when she left.  I don’t know if that’s common practice or what, but it was definitely her hope.  When I checked out I didn’t have to pay anything, so Eliza and I left.  I apologized for wasting Eliza’s time, but of course she didn’t view it like that. 

So, that’s how close I was to an abortion – had the lady not left the room with me hooked up to the machines, I would have gone through with it.  I was surer about the abortion than I was about the marriage and we all know how the marriage turned out. So, I went home and that night when S tried called, I simply didn’t answer.  I still cried the next day, but I had taken a baby step by not answering.  Once we weren’t fighting nightly, I also stopped crying daily.  Was I better? No.  However, my days were no longer spent in PJs crying my eyes out, so it was an improvement… until I went to see an attorney. 

We were still legally married at this point and while I was told you couldn’t get a divorce while pregnant, I still knew I needed to talk to an attorney.  I was referred to a guy who is supposed to be the best in Gainesville and after spending 400 for a consultation all I learned was that I could have a divorce at any time and that Florida is all about 50/50 custody and if that was what S went for, I could do nothing to stop him.  Nothing.  I was devastated.  What kind of kid would my child grow up to be with that kind of person as his father? He then told me that I didn’t need him as my attorney, that I could use other people for a lot less money and get the same results and referred me to a few other people.

I left feeling horrible.  I didn’t know what to do.  I wished I had had the abortion and realized that if I couldn’t terminate the pregnancy, maybe it would be better if I terminated my life.  I thought about it a lot and the reason I didn’t isn’t because I secretly wanted help or anything other than that fact my mama taught me that suicide is one of the most selfish things a person can do.  She had a friend commit suicide the day after he tried to see her (she was napping and my stepdad didn’t wake her to say he was there), and I knew she had always blamed herself.  So, as much as I didn’t want the life I had and how much I just wanted my life to be over, I couldn’t go that route because I didn’t want anyone I loved to feel guilt.  That’s not to say that was the only time I thought about suicide – over the course of my pregnancy up until I started feeling the baby move (which was late because my placenta attached to the front, so it had to be a hard “kick” to see/feel it) barely a day passed when I didn’t wonder if suicide would be my best choice.  Driving home from work I would go over I-75 and always thought it would be so easy to drive off and my chances are survival seemed pretty low.  I had those thoughts like clockwork every time I drove over the interstate.  However, I talked myself out of it by reasoning that if did that someone else would get hurt and I couldn’t risk that. 

I had always given work my all, but that year I stayed literally as late as I possibly could each day (aka until I felt unsafe being here alone at night).  I had an amazing class – my first year was also amazing, but my second year was different.  I’m fairly certain they stacked my class since they knew I would be on maternity leave.  I have no problems with that!  I still have a pretty special bond with those kids – most of them come see me any chance they get and are tickled to see me out of school.

The year flew by.  Once I had students my depression let up to some degree – teaching was the only thing that kept me going.  I didn’t miss any days of work.  I probably should have, but we don’t get maternity leave… we are just given the equivalent of ten days paid leave a year.  These days can roll over, but I had none left from my first year, so I was only going to have two weeks of paid time off.  I wasn’t sure how I was going to afford maternity leave, but I couldn’t handle thinking about that.  I decided to cross that bridge when it arrived.

I considered abortion once more the last possible week.  It would have been an extremely late term abortion and I definitely would have considered it murder, but fortunately it was a procedure they didn’t do in Gainesville otherwise I think I would have gone through with it.  S and I had been fighting again, he had turned even uglier (if possible) and I eventually learned that he was not honest about anything.  All those similarities I thought we had in regards to our childhoods?  Lies.  His mom was actually a nurse and had a pretty good income.  His dad?  Yea – nothing wrong there.  Just a deadbeat, but unfortunately that’s common.  I kid you not when I say every single thing we “bonded” over was fabricated.  I have often wondered why he chose to me.  I don’t get it – I am not ugly, but I’m definitely not the prettiest person in the world.  I don’t have money.  My family had nothing to offer.  Sure, I have a brain, but I opted to go into teaching… So, why me?  Why couldn’t he have picked someone else?  Anyone else.  It makes me feel like there must be something seriously wrong with me for him to have done this to me. 

After the last almost abortion, I never considered suicide again because at that point it was no longer a fetus, but Malachi.  I could handle the idea of cancelling my own life, but not his.  In hindsight I cannot believe I ever even considered any of this – the abortion thoughts, the suicidal thoughts, etc. As I look back on my memories, it’s like I was someone else… a crazy person perhaps, but not me.  I don’t even know how to word the shame I now feel.  I’ve never even shared these feelings with anyone because I figure if people knew my thoughts at the time they would hate me at worst, want to commit me at best.  I think I did a great job hiding it – I actually have never been a fan of Miranda Lambert but when I hear her new song Mama’s Broken Heart I have to laugh a little at the line “doesn’t matter how you feel, it only betters how you look” because that was kind of my motto throughout my pregnancy.  I would tell myself every morning that how I felt on the inside didn’t matter so long as on the outside I appeared happy.  I did a great job – I could smile and laugh and pretend I was fine.  Judging by the emails I’m getting from coworkers I did an amazing job.  They were all clueless in regards to my true feelings.

Anyway, throughout the pregnancy I did every single doctor appointment alone, save one that my mom came with me to.  I hated being alone, but I was also far too proud to ask anyone to go with me.  I figured if they were interested, they would offer.  My sister offered a few times, but I didn’t want her to miss work.  I never took pictures of myself and when my sister tried I would inside it be chest up.  I wore sweaters and tried to hide the fact I was pregnant, or if I was wearing something that made it clear I was with child I would wear long sleeves over my hands so no one would see I didn’t have a ring.

The only time I remember being happy during my pregnancy was Christmastime – that’s always my favorite and that year all the family from NC came down, plus Jacob came home, so it was great.  S also offered me money around Christmastime to help pay for everything, so that was nice.  He gave me around 2000?  I don’t remember for sure. 

My due date was the beginning of February. It was moved around a lot and two different doctors gave me two different days and always referenced the due date they gave me, which I found to be odd at the time, but have since learned isn’t as odd as it sounds. I also think due dates shouldn’t be given, rather a due week.  Anyway, the later of the two dates was the 9^th and it came and went. I had an appointment on the 11^th (a Friday – all my appointments were Fridays).  S started texting me on the 9^th wanting to see his baby.  I explained I hadn’t had the baby and he didn’t believe me – after all, it was my due date and that meant the baby must be there. We fought the next few days none stop.  He wanted to be in the room and I told him I couldn’t handle the stress of childbirth plus having him there.  He insisted and threatened to cause me bodily harm if he wasn’t there. 

By the time my appointment came on Friday I was so stressed out and he was saying some mean things I can’t even repeat.  The things he was threatening to do to me were outrageous and crazy and to this day I don’t know how his mom could raise a kid who would say those things to a pregnant woman.  Anyway, my appointment went horribly – both my heart rate and Malachi’s were sky high.  The doctor had me go to North Florida right away.  All alone.  Felt like I had no one.  S was texting me during all this and the nurse inquired to who I was texting. I showed her the texts and she advised me to stop talking to me and then asked if I was going to have him at the birth.  I asked what choice I had since anyone can call a hospital and find out who the patients are.  It was in response to this that she informed me I could come in as a SNAP patient and then my records would be confidential and if anyone asked if I was there they would be told no.  I was so happy and relieved and tons of good things. I stopped texting him and completely ignored him until after I gave birth.  Within an hour of ignoring him, both heart rates were fine too – she told me it was stress. I don’t think that’s an actual diagnosis, but I suspect it was indeed true.

The following night, Saturday, I went to Cracker Barrel with my sister.  S started texting me asking if I was OK, which I ignored, and he eventually started harassing my sister too.  It made me laugh a lot – I found it amusing and wished I had started ignoring him long before.  On Sunday I came down with a rash, so decided to call into work on Monday (the 14^th).  That night we did game night with some friends.  Monday I went to the doctor and they didn’t know what my rash was, but said it wasn’t anything serious.  Since it was Valentine’s Day, Juanita and I met Natasha and Lena at the Biscuit (one of them was working and the other was eating) for brunch and then hung out until that evening, at which time we had planned a girls night.  One of my friends is a professional chief, so she did the cooking, and it was a lot of fun.  I went home super happy and feeling the best I had felt throughout my whole pregnancy.  

I woke up a bit after falling asleep with contractions and realized I was in labor.  The hysterical tears from my early pregnancy returned with a vengeance.  I prayed and prayed and prayed for hours for it to stop, telling God I wasn’t ready for this and I needed more time and everything else you can possibly imagined.  After a bit I realized it was really happening.  I decided to shower and shave.  When I got out I braided my hair in my favorite double French braids and then started throwing up.  That continued for hours.  I called my mom around 4-5 and woke up my sister about that time to take me to the hospital. 

When I arrived I was just in front of another pregnant woman who said she was having her baby as well.  We were being asked some questions about our pain on a 10 scale – I was a beat ahead so whatever answer I gave, she was .5-1 ahead of me.  Was so annoying!  This kept happening until I had to go throw up.  While I was there I also went to the bathroom, but when I came out all of a sudden there was water running down my leg.  I was so confused – I looked up, embarrassed, and told the nurse I didn’t understand how I was peeing when I had just gone.  She smiled and told me that it wasn’t pee – my water had broken and that was the best way to get a room.

So I got a huge room.  I had always said I would do it completely natural, but it was hurting so much and I was throwing up and I had no hands to hold, so I decided to go with an epidural.  Once I had it, I felt nothing, aside from the catheter they tried to put in.  I actually had to have it taken out.  On an interesting note, a lifetime with the smallest bladder possible has apparently given me an insane amount of bladder control.  Even with the epidural I was able to control it and didn’t pee on myself.  My doctor was pretty impressed.

For the next few hours I went in and out of sleep.  I stopped throwing up once I had the epidural and I felt nothing.  At some point the center for disease control came in to look at my rash (apparently one of my nurses inquired about it) and we found out I had shingles.  This made no sense because I’d never even had chicken pox.  But it was true. Then at 12:00 I started pushing.  While I was pushing my principal called me to tell me that on Monday S had called the school wanting my address.  He had pointed out he was married to me.  My principal knew the situation, so she had told him she couldn’t give out my address.  However, that day (Tuesday) he had learned that since I am a teacher, my address is a matter of public record and called the state to get it. Apparently they let the principal know if someone is requesting the address of one of her workers.  I still think that it’s so ridiculous anyone can find out my address, but there’s nothing I can do about it.  All I knew was that I was about to have my baby and he now knew where I lived.  I found that out literally while I was pushing. 

A bit later the head of the hospital came in to find out who S was and why he had been calling the hospital for days to find out if I was a patient.  I calmly explained the situation, but was freaking out on the inside.  I knew she was going to tell me he had every right to be there and that he was going to take Malachi and do something bad.  However, as we talked she let me know that he had been told I wasn’t at the hospital and that if he did come to the hospital I could call security. While she was there I could see her exchanging looks with everyone in the room and only later learned why – during the conversation my heart rate and Malachi’s had skyrocketed.  So, although I had acted cool and calm, they knew it was just an act.

I had started pushing at 12:00 and finally got him out at 1:26.  So, 86 minutes of push time.  I had been terrified of pooping while I was pushing and, like apparently most people, my fears became reality.  When I finally got all Malachi and all the poop inside me out, we discovered why it took me so much pushing – his head was the size of the average newborns shoulder-to-shoulder. That was how he earned the nickname baby bighead and how I became mama bighead and J became auntie bighead.  He was cutest baby in the whole world – I suspect because he was late and more developed than most newborns.  He nursed OK and looking in his eyes was such an incredible experience. Never knew I could love anything in the world so much. 

Even though they were having troubles stopping my bleeding and I had just gone through labor with shingles and I was terrified of S, I was happy.  And I have been since. After spending roughly 8K, I ended up with sole parental responsibility (aka sole custody) and S has visitations once a month. Sometimes he shows, mostly he doesn’t. Things didn’t work out because I had some great attorney – S emailed me a few days before our final court hearing saying he didn’t want custody.  I guess perhaps I will post about that later, but I don’t know when it will come.  I am happy to have gotten everything off my shoulders and shared.  I think perhaps I’ve been feeling guilt about the abortion/suicide thoughts this whole time. Like I said in another post, although I had heard of post-partum depression, it wasn’t until later I learned of pre-natal depression. 

I do hope I get another chance to have more babies and do it right – I will be one of those obnoxious girls that post pictures of my baby weekly and take super cheesy pregnancy pictures with my family.  I will do it all natural (for real this time!) and have to actually discuss baby names with another person as opposed to getting to pick my own.  And even if I don’t agree with my future baby-daddy on names, I will never complain!  Well, maybe I will, but it will be one of those complaints I don’t really mean. 

Clarification of sorts.

Laid in bed last night remembering everything that happened. Wanted to clarify a few things. Although S "left me", he thought we would go to the church counseling, move in together, and he together. I was the one who said no. I was also not perfect -- I would refuse to have sex with him and tell him it was because he smelled down there.

The examples I have posted on here are just a small fraction. He was cruel at best -- he would spend hours reiterating what the church said and saying since the church told me, it must be true. He would put down my family, friends, etc. He only put his hands on me once, but that once was enough. He grabbed my arms and left a bruise. I don't know what his intentions were, but I was never alone with him after that. My sister and I were going on a trip to Disney when he said he needed a break or whatever it was he said that I took to mean we were over. He claims that's not how he intended it. So, I guess in that regard he didn't end things. At the end of the day I guess who ended it doesn't matter -- it only matters that it was over.

In which I am married

I am going to attempt to write this from my phone. It will require a lot of patience and that's one area I have in abundance, so I suspect it will work out fine. However, my real concern is my phone doesn't underline misspelled words...

So, as I said previously, we were married on a Friday. We went to the courthouse, then I went to a baby shower wherein I told no one I was married (yet another clue I shouldn't have done it), before we set off to Orlando for the weekend. We got there late and it was nothing special -- I really hope my prince comes one day because I really missed out! No wedding is one thing, but no wedding night is just tragic. 

Anyway, the next day is when I really realized it was a mistake. When we did lunch I ordered a coke.  Now, I know it's bad for me and I ought to avoid it,  but any of you who have been following this blog know how much I love it. Anyway, in front of the waitress S says I can't drink it. Words cannot express how humiliated I felt. I have never been one to get embarrassed easily, so the level of discomfort I felt was crazy high. I took a few seconds to compose myself and ordered water, which I didn't drink in protest. S then informed me I need to avoid coke because of my health and because of my weight. I was dumbfounded and asked why he married me if he didn't like how I look and I don't remember what he said because I was too busy feeling sorry for myself. 

I don't have weight issues exactly -- I recognize I could be thinner, but I think I look fine. Plus my boobs are so stinking big I think it helps make me look proportionate. I've often wondered what I would look like with a smaller stomach, because to date when I lose weight it's never in my boobs. The thing is that the majority of the guys who I've dated have all made demeaning comments about my body. Not everyone -- there were two who haven't -- but most have. So, for him to say that was a huge slap in the face. 

Anyway, he insisted on telling me what I was allowed to order and what I couldn't order and I picked from the choices he presented me with.  Luckily what I wanted was on my approved list. Then we went to animal kingdom. After a couple hours I wanted a snack, but he wouldn't let me have one. A bit later he wanted to do Mount Everest and I don't do coasters, but encouraged him to go. To his credit he didn't want to leave me alone, but I assured him I would be fine. As soon as he was in line I found an ice cream and loved every bite of the cone... until I dropped some on my shirt!!! My heart started pounding. He was going to know. I literally started crying hysterically and took fifteen minutes to pull myself together. Then I called a friend and told her I had made the biggest mistake of my life. 

When he finally got off the ride he didn't notice the spot on my shirt or the fact my eyes were puffy with huge bags under them. I felt such relief. Nothing else happened of note that day. 

The next day we stopped by the outlet malls. I needed new work shoes because mine were getting holes. I found some for 50, but he wouldn't let me buy them. In hindsight I say he wouldn't let me and I roll my eyes. How could he stop me? However, at the time I was going to my cult wherein we are taught the male is the head of the household and we have to do as they say and I believed it. Truth be told, I still do believe the man is the head and "in charge", but his duty is to love his wife, so when my prince comes I have no doubt he will be an excellent leader because he will love me and adore me and not tell me I can't have coke or ice cream on special occasions.

Anyway, we return and he spends the night. I tell him I want an annulment, which he says no to, so I ask the church, and they say no as well. They pointed out we had had sex so it couldn't be annulled. I pointed out we had sex long before we were married, but it didn't matter. We met with a marriage counselor at the church who is the only leader there worth anything. He said we couldn't do an annulment, but he also hated hearing what geno had said and done and he thought the church was in the wrong. He didn't say it because he has to support his church, but he made it clear.  He also told me I reminded him of his daughter and I know he felt sorry for me. 

During this time S informs me he is losing his scholarships and financial aid because of his grades (basically failing everything for multiple semesters) and since I'm his wife I will have to get a loan for him. I didn't actually fight with him on this -- I just asked why he told me he got all As. Don't remember his response, just that he had already pulled up a loan application for me. I was trying to figure out how to say no (any of you who know me at all know this is a word I am not good at saying) when I notice on the application you have to have held your job a minimum of three years. Well, this was my first year teaching, so I know I'm going to be denied on the spot. So, to avoid a fight I applied and feigned disappointment when I was denied. He then questioned my credit history and the answer to my earlier wondering about how he was failing everything became crystal clear -- he has no reading comprehension. I literally skimmed that application for less than a minute while I was talking to him and I knew I would be denied. He had read it thoroughly. To this day I firmly believe this answers my question as to why he married me -- he thought I would get him money. 

So, I don't know how to say what I'm about to say without looking like a huge snob, but intelligence is important to me in my significant other. I don't care about money -- I grew up poor and had a happy childhood. Sure, I don't make much but I alone make way more than my family did when I was a kid, so money is irrelevant. I don't care about looks because they fade with the passage of time. I care about intelligence, conversational ability, and if they can make me smile. When I realized his intelligence was not anywhere near what I had been led to believe I felt so betrayed. 

That same week I started having chest pains and thought I was having a heart attack. This could be a long post on its own, so maybe I will do a short story on it sometime, but the basics are this had happened before, I had gone to doctors and had tons of tests run, and everything always came back fine. This time I thought, and honestly hoped, I was dying (so I guess this is important because it was the first time I wished for death. Sadly it will not be the last.) so I went to the ER. I went back quickly and ask S to wait outside because i didn't want him with me. While I'm back there he is texting and after not even 15 minutes he asks if its ok for him to go hang out with his friends. First I lied and said sure when in reality I was pissed. I couldn't believe I was back there possibly dying and he could not even wait 15 minutes in the waiting room. I texted Juanita and Natasha and tell them, which led to me getting madder and madder before I finally told him no, he could not go. 

Long story short, my labs all come back fine. While they were discussing it another doctor happened to overhear and interrupted. He said he had seen a few people with the same problems and it has to do with the valve. It is called mitral valve prolapse -- one of my valves closes the wrong way or something. It's not a problem and has no real side effects other than sometimes random pain. So, I was released and S was there, so I forgave  him. Only when I got to my car it had been moved. When I questioned he he admitted that he did leave. He said I was in the back and would never know so it wasn't a big deal...

Anyway, we continue fighting constantly, we never live together, we can't stand each other, and so I tell him it's over. Nope -- that's not how it goes. He leaves me. He tells everyone I left him, but like so much else it is a lie. I wish so much that I had left him, even more so after reading how he treated me. And honestly this is just a portion -- he was so controlling about how I could spend my money I started giving my sister money every few days and having her pay for anything I wanted to hide. 

I don't remember how long we went before it was over. It was over before school ended, so at most three weeks. I am thinking it was even two. When I tell the story I only include the weekend because that was the only time we were ever together really. The rest of the time we were together we were fighting. I guess I lie to everyone. It's just so much easier to say a weekend than it is to go into this whole story. I know we were legally married, but what does that really mean? To me it means nothing. I am beyond ashamed I have to tell people I was married and got a divorce. My whole life my dreams were so simple - to get married once, have it be forever, make babies, cook, clean, and be a wonderful wife. 

My friends point out how good I have it -- I have a job I love going to, I have my own house, I have an amazing son who is healthy and wonderful and perfect, I have my family, etc. I have more than so many people. I am blessed. But on those bad days (which luckily are rare -- I can only think of one in the past two years and honestly it was recently) I can't help but feel that it's a really fucked up punishment and a big joke: I have so much and am happy, but I am still short on my dreams which can now never be achieved. Don't get me wrong -- I have absolute no doubt I will have a real marriage one day, as honestly I think I'm too good of a catch not to get married. My pros greatly outweigh my cons too. However, it will be my second marriage and I still will always know I failed at the only thing in life I ever really wanted... to get married once and have it be forever.

I have never had to learn how to deal with failure. I have exceptionally high expectations for myself. In school once my freshmen year was over I never settled for anything less than an A. By my third year an A wasn't even good enough -- I had to get at least a 96. By grad school I settled for no less than perfect scores on everything and guess what? I did it. I set goals for myself and I succeed -- I've never failed at anything. Unless this. 

Soooo, going back to the whole S leaving me... imagine my surprise when I found out I was pregnant. I realized after he stopped talking to me that I hadn't had a period and convinced myself if was due to stress. When school ended I was signed up for a two week long course at the Florida museum of natural history. It was in one of the classrooms downstairs and the little restaurant was beside it. I could smell it as soon as they started cooking and it made me feel horrible. Although I never threw up, for hours I would sit there feeling like I was going to. It was there that I realized I was definitely pregnant. I waited a few more weeks to take the test. Natasha and Juanita went with me to buy it. I didn't have to wait long -- within seconds of peeing it came back pregnant. Juanita right away told me S didn't have to know. At the time I thought she was crazy, but in hindsight she was right. Unfortunately for me, I'm far too honest to keep something like that a secret. It's funny because I don't even remember telling him. Know who I remember telling vividly? Two people -- my mama and my best guy friend. I only remember telling my best guy friend because after I told him (on the phone of course. There are exactly two people I told in person, both coworkers, and with the exception of those two there was no one else in the whole world I could look in the eyes to tell. Far too ashamed for that.) his response was to tell me I was going to have a hard time dating guys because my value as a woman was going to plummet as a single mom. I was so offended and mad at him, but in hindsight i am so thankful he told me that because it turned out to be the truth. Sometimes people are so caught up in trying to say what other people want to hear that they forgo telling the truth. And I am lucky to have people around me who will tell me like it is as opposed to merely saying things to make me happy. 

Telling my mom was hard. I called her one more while I was still in bed. I started off the conversation "mom -- I have completely ruined my life" and then launched into the story. 

I emailed my boss in case she didn't want to rehire me since I would have maternity leave. I know it is technically illegal, but since I wasn't on contract yet she easily could have said there was no available room and I didn't want her to give me the job and regret it. Luckily it didn't matter. 

I waited until September to tell my friends and I did so on Facebook. I wrote a note entitled "a HUGE update". I made the note private before I gave birth, but have made it public again as of this week. So, any of you are welcome to go to my profile and read how I told the world I was pregnant. 

So, you often hear about mamas being depressed after giving birth. Know what is also super common, but talked about far less? Pre-natal depression. Three guesses who had it...