A New Tomorrow A Baby
The first few months went by as fairly smoothly. I was still working and so was he. He didn't seem too bad until I said I didn't want to go with him to an oyster and beer bash with his bad boy friends. He was so mad he kicked me hard with his cowboy boots and my entire buttocks and upper thigh turned black and blue. Not only was I hurt but my spirit was wounded. How could he do that to me, I was in my first trimester. Of course, he forced me to attend the party. It was horrible to have to smile and be social after such a wounding punishment. This would affect me in ways hidden from view, just like his well-placed blows, and by my 6th month I was showing signs of preeclampsia. I was dizzy and my blood pressure was high. The Dr. restricted my salt intake and told me to put my feet up when I could. By the end of the 7th month I was swelling, retaining fluids and was getting uncomfortable in my own skin. His continued drinking and partying and his excessive demands on me were making me sick. He told me not to think that my pregnancy would give me a right to be lazy. Lazy??? If what I had been doing was lazy I would hate to see hard work.
By December I had to quit my beloved job, I was too swollen and my blood pressure wouldn't come down. Besides, I couldn't get my shoes on anymore. My feet were sore and swollen beyond recognition. They looked like rubber gloves filled with water with the little appendages coming out of them. The Dr. placed me on bed rest and I had to call my mom to see if she could come over. She couldn't make it and so I managed, as always.
The new wrinkle was that now I needed my husband to support me. I was dependent on the man who abused and tormented me. His new job was a relief but we weren't wealthy and winter was coming when work was slow. His new company bought us a crib and mattress as a baby gift and tucked in some extra money. It was very helpful. I managed to put together a baby's room and my neighbor told me what to get as far as diapers and clothes. She loaned me her bassinet and her expertise. She was so helpful and a wonderful friend.
This was now a high risk situation for both the baby and me". It could be fatal. This medical finding "indicates that high psycho-social stress and CH can act in combination to increase the risk of preeclampsia up to 20-fold. "PMC My husband was killing me. The hidden and invisible harm of rape battering and emotional abuse showed up in another way.
"Intimate partner violence particularly sexual and emotional violence are the base of incidence risk of preeclampsia" University of Medical Sciences
The baby wasn't due until February but the decision was made to deliver him early, he would be a preemie, which could lead to slow growth and low birth weight. Labor was induced early and when that didn't work, I was scheduled for a C- Section around 3 weeks earlier than the delivery date. I was also told that recovery would take longer for me. I struggled through the first year of my baby's life. I was weak and had spent 2 weeks in the hospital. At home my child was slow to latch onto the bottle and nursing left him hungry. He screamed and cried all the time. I rocked and walked and rubbed and bathed him while saddled with the chores my husband dictated to me until I nearly lost sanity. There was no help nor was there sleep. Our pediatrician finally changed his formula because my baby soon developed diarrhea and I was afraid he was dehydrating. They told me it would take a year for his crying to subside. I had to accept that we were in it for the long haul. I was his mother and I would protect and nourish him to health no matter how long it took or how much I had to give. I had bonded with this new life. My baby and I would make it together.
My husband remained the same with outbursts of anger, disappearing whenever he could and giving me what amounted to little help with my new motherhood, He refused to understand the pain and depletion I had been through. To him this was a normal part of womanhood and I should buck up. This was the lack of empathy that is so often talked about regarding a psychopath. They cannot put themselves in your shoes and don't want to either. Even though they are physically present you have been abandoned emotionally. You are wounded but you must treat your own wounds the best way you can, alone. I was not to question him about anything nor about his friends and what they were doing. It was none of my business. This put more emphasis on the emotional and physical drain of such a relationship.
I was doing everything concerning the baby and the house with no help at all. I tried harder and harder to get everything done. All the medical appointments and pharmacy prescriptions, shopping and cleaning and cooking were up to me, even the bill paying was my responsibility. I was crumbling under the load. When he did come home he would white glove things, like the top of the refrigerator. He would check every room for a mess or an out of order corner. He constantly compared me to his mother who baked bread and cooked for ranch hands and kept a spotless house, all while raising children. Then he would shove me around to remind me what an incompetent I was. My continued effort never produced the demanded result. I remembered the law of diminishing returns and wondered if I was trying too hard to please him. The more I put into this marriage the less I got out of it. I began to see that there was a pattern emerging here. If I can convince you that you are bad or not up to standard then I can have complete control of you. You will only think my thoughts and behave according to my thinking. You will no longer have your mind; I will have it because I destroyed yours. I would cry when I was alone and I would ask God if this was my destiny or could I find an alternative to this continuing pattern of assault? What was making him so intolerable?
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