Onto Part 4 of the tale of me (Part 1, Part 2, Part 3 to catch up)…

and to restate the last few lines of my last post:

Stop at the drugstore, pick up a two pack of tests. Go to work and into the public restroom (this is how convinced I was that I was NOT pregnant). Pee on the stick…pace the small stall…
Stare in shock…
It’s POSITIVE!!! I’m…I’m….PREGNANT!!!!!!!!!!
CRAP.

****************

I throw the fateful test in the trash and run up to my supervisor/good friend (and sometime drinkie-buddy), who is prepping a mocha and latte combo for some customers. I nod hello to the customers grab a business card from the cash register, scribble on the back of it “I’M PREGNANT” and hold it in front of her face. Her eyes get huge, she does a rapid stir of the mocha and hands off the coffee’s to turn to me “WHAT?!?!?!?!”

From there I call my mom in VA. First words out of her mouth, “You’re telling your Father.” Gee….thanks, mom.

I try to call Alex (again, not his real name for a refresher). I know he’s at a nearby amusement park for the day. I try to call him about 10 times, leave a very URGENT voicemail on his phone…or two, or three…NEVER get a call back. I work all day. Get home and call him again, “Come over now.”

“Not tonight, Sadie. I’m tired.”

“I don’t give a shite. Come over NOW. It’s VERY important! I wouldn’t have bothered calling you otherwise!!”

He begrudgingly agrees to come over. I take another test while I’m waiting…again, VERY positive. He shows up, I tell him. Wait several minutes for him to say…

“Can I tell you something?”

Confused I say yes. He proceeds to say, “I already knew. Chuck told me.” (Chuck being his best friend that I worked with…talk about a fast grapevine)

EXCUSE ME?!?!?!? “You knew?!?! And you wouldn’t come over when I called?!?!”

“ME coming over doesn’t change anything. We aren’t getting back together.”

You’d think right here the God’s-honest truth would dawn on me…but in my defense, I was pregnant and hormonal. Reason was NOT on my side.

I spend the next 4 months a bit of an emotional wreck. In the process I lose my apartment and have to move in with Alex and his family (he lived with his parents….AND Grandparents…who were the HEIGHT of backwoods hicks…I was woken up at 6AM almost every day with bluegrass gospel…God help me…I nearly killed them).

During this time Alex came to 1 prenatal appointment…the first one because I MADE him come. After that, he never came to appointments, and I stopped telling him when they were. We had ONE conversation about the baby. Yes. ONE. We lived in the same house and hardly ever talked. The ONE conversation we had was about names. He wanted the baby named after him, especially if it was a boy “So it can be a junior.” To which I scoffed and said, “Um, Alex…if we aren’t married, this kid isn’t going to be a JUNIOR…because it won’t have your last name.”

That was the first time I stood up for myself.

At six months the God’s smiled on me. My hormones leveled out and I suddenly became sane. I realized that the jerk wasn’t going to “see the light”. He’d talked enough bad crap about me that when his sister came home on leave she wouldn’t even LOOK at me or TALK to me…she’d talk THROUGH me or PAST me…but totally ignored me. He wanted nothing to do with me…and probably not my child. That’s when I got a clue and started making rational decisions.

I was already 6 months along and very happy with my OB and relatively happy with where I was living, and I loved my job…but I had to make plans to get the frick out of that house. I stayed there for another 3 months. When DC was born, my mom was by my side…Alex was nowhere to be found…by ANYONE. His family was there, and none of them were able to get in touch with him…he ignored all phone calls. The next day he was PHYSICALLY brought to the hospital by his aunt and HANDED his son. He showed very little emotion and handed over the baby not too much long after.

After another 2 months I decided to leave NC. I liked living there, really loved my job…but I couldn’t survive in THAT house, and I couldn’t afford to live on my own. So, I hopped in the car and moved to VA, to live with my parents.

My Dad became the father figure for Denver, and my mom was always there to keep me sane. It worked out surprisingly well…and lasted for quite a few years.

*********

Next installment, gaining full custody (with “visitation” for sperm donor) and child support after a nasty email fight…and moving…TWICE!

This entry was posted on Thursday, December 6th, 2007 at 11:19 pm and is filed under Story of Me. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.