I was absolutely thrilled. I was 34 years old, and had been with my ex-husband, Del, for five years. I had invested so much into our partnership that I stayed despite the deep dysfunctions. I believed if I left and entered the single scene again, I would lose all chances of having children. I thought it was too late to start over again.
A month later, my ex-husband proposed to me with a now-that-youre-pregnant-we-should-get-married type of line. I agreed and to this day I have no idea why. I dont even believe in lawful marriage.
The day my daughter was born, I sat in the hospital riding the hormonal roller coaster that is the day a mothers milk comes in. I was weeping, distraught, frightened, in pain, and feeling utterly unfit to be a mother. As I wept out loud, my husband looked at me and shushed me sternly, Calm down. Quiet your voice. You are going to disturb the other mother in the room.
In that moment, all the qualities that I despised in my husband but had intentionally ignored exploded into my brain. I shook violently and yelled From here on out, you have our backs. No one but this little baby and I come first. Not your dead family. Not your social justice mission. Not your community. You need to have our backs first, not everyone elses.
I despised him in that moment. And, quite honestly, he must have felt the same sense of hate toward me. He seethed quietly in the corner.
