The birth story is coming along slowly – it’s long and I write it in bits and pieces when I’m awake and functional.
I just need to quickly vent about something…
My mum just woke me up from a nap and said “Guess what? I just saw something on Facebook and it looks like Doug is married.”
I feel like someone has just kicked my legs out from underneath me.
He got over me, forgot the traumas of our fertility struggles and miscarriages, met someone new, fell madly in love, got engaged and then got married all in just 22 months??
He had this strict rule – no talk of engagement for the first 3 years of any relationship because that’s how long it takes for the “happy chemicals” to wear off and only then can you tell if you really love someone.
Once again I feel completely displaced in my own life.
That was all a lie. It was just me. I wasn’t good enough. He is the only man I’ve ever loved and I simply wasn’t good enough.
I got really upset at my mum and demanded to know why she’d woken me up to tell me such horrible news and she shrugged and said “What does it matter to you? You have a baby now.”
I get it.
Everyone thinks that my heart is all repaired now. My baby magically healed everything.
But I’m alone.
It’s just me and my child.
An accidental pregnancy to a man who never wanted to have children with me. A man who doesn’t really care about anyone but himself.
Nobody to cuddle me at night and say “Don’t worry sweetheart I’ll get up to the baby this time.”
Nobody to share this amazing time with. Nobody to tell me how proud they are and how lucky they are to have created a family with me.
Instead I’ve got to deal with a man who quit his job two days before our daughter was born, has refused to give me any money to contribute to hospital costs or the cost of looking after a newborn, has only come to visit us once since we left hospital and showed very little interest, then went out yesterday and bought himself a new car for absolutely no reason.
Now I’m at an all time low. I have a baby to take care of, a deadbeat ex, enough emotional baggage to fill a football stadium, I’ve been forced to move in with my parents at the age of 30 and my entire stomach, butt and thighs are completely mangled by hideous stretch marks. I am basically unlovable.
Doug is married to someone else. And I am unlovable.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this.
I know I’m supposed to be grateful for my miracle baby. Don’t get me wrong – I am. I really am. This isn’t about her.
I know all I seem to do is complain about petty meaningless shit on my blog. I’m aware how grating that must be.
But my little sleep deprived 3am fantasy that Doug will one day come back to me is dead now.
It’s so disgustingly sad that it’s been almost two years, I’ve gone and had a baby to another man and yet I can’t let go of my husband. The man who left me just days after my last miscarriage. A man who never once stopped and looked back. A man I should rightfully loathe.
To me, forever is forever. And that’s just all there is to it.
He said we were forever and I believed him.
Now he is some other girl’s forever.
I have my daughter but I am alone.
I am just so tired of being alone. Of never being worth it or good enough for the men in my life.
And it scares me that my incredible lack of self worth will be passed on to my beautiful daughter. That she will one day learn that her daddy never really wanted her and it will begin another vicious lifelong cycle of low self esteem and choosing to love men who are incapable of loving her back.
I don’t have an ending to this post. I know I’ll cop shit for whining about Doug yet again, especially now my baby is here.
Chalk it up to sleep deprivation if I’ve pissed you off. Or maybe this is the start of postnatal depression.
I’m going to raid the fridge for chocolate now.
That is all.