“No one ever gets tired of love, everyone gets tired of waiting, assuming, hearing lies, saying sorry, and hurting.”
- unknown -
(continuing from last time...)
When I was 8 months pregnant with my second daughter, I received a phone call from my ex as he sat in the back seat of a police cruiser. He’d been stopped while speeding and because he was driving without a license (a regular habit since he’d lost his license a long time ago, and really, he had no qualms about breaking the law), they wouldn’t let him leave with the car. They could have seized it but decided to give him one chance. So he called me to come get him. And the car. I put my very pregnant self and my young daughter (who was turning five that month) into a cab and headed over. When my daughter and I stepped out of the cab, the police officer standing nearby stared with what I can only assume was total surprise. Obviously he hadn’t expected a woman who looked like she was ready to go into labour at any moment. And a pre-school child.
I was shaking uncontrollably. My heart was pounding. My cheeks were flushed. I don’t think I’ve ever felt more ashamed in my life. Or disgusted. I put my daughter in our car, strapped her in and got into the driver’s seat. The police officer walked over to the driver’s window and the look in his eyes made me feel even more embarrassed. I could barely meet his gaze. I’d grown up in such a wholesome household. How did I get to this point? What was wrong with me?
|My mom with her two granddaughters at the|
hospital on the day the younger one was born.
Thank goodness for my loving family.
He said “I’m giving your husband one chance. The next time we’re going to arrest him and take him in. You should speak to him.” I turned to him and said “I’m not his mother, officer; I already have a young child and one on the way to take care of. He’s a grown man and should know better. The next time you pull him over, lock him up and teach him a lesson.” He nodded and left.
They released my ex and I drove us home. I didn't say one word as he gloated about how he had talked his way out of this. No apology. No remorse. No regret. Not even for his daughter witnessing this. Nothing. Just sheer satisfaction at getting away with it. Again.
I couldn't sleep that night, plagued by guilt and shame and sorrow as I played the scenario over and over in my mind. Something broke inside me that day. Perhaps it happened when my daughter wanted to run to see her dad as he sat in a police car. Like this was normal. Perhaps it happened when I thought about my unborn baby who was fated to begin her life in such dysfunction. Perhaps it happened when I thought about all the years’ worth of heartbreak. Disappointment. Humiliation. Neglect. Rage. Hopelessness. Betrayal. Helplessness. Manipulation. And more. Or maybe it happened when I looked into the police officer’s eyes and saw what I’d least expected: sympathy. For the pitiful world I was living in. The one that I was shamefully raising a child in. The one the baby in my belly would be arriving into. Pure and innocent and impressionable little souls.
Whatever it was, the resentment toward my ex began to build. And even though the baby girl I gave birth to three weeks later began her life in a toxic environment, it would only be a matter of months before that world would be left behind.
To be continued... (click here)