I poured my heart and soul into a relationship that was doomed from the beginning. I supported someone who would have never truly supported my dreams and goals. I poured every ounce of hope I had into pursuing dreams just to have them ripped out from under me because "we weren't ready", when in reality he was just using those dreams like a carrot for his mule: a bribe to keep moving forward in the direction he wanted to go.
I've learned that his addictions were, and are, far greater than I ever imagined. Or allowed myself to comprehend. I learned that he smoked cigarettes after I begged him to quit, and had kept that concealed for over 10 months. I learned that he gambled away I don't even want to know how much money, which was why even when I worked 50+ hours a week I could never seem to come up with enough money. He promised me marriage, a family, a home. He promised me a wedding, then bailed because a friend told him a wedding is a waste of time and money, just to be stuck with one person for the rest of your life. He went to the introduction of our adoption courses, only to get drunk the night before our first true session (also happened to be our 4 year anniversary) and (I found out after the fact) "expected" me to take him along anyway. I pursued the first few sessions alone before withdrawing our application. I have not opened the withdrawal letter yet, and it arrived almost 2 years ago. It still breaks my heart. He promised me a child through surrogacy, going so far as to see my gynecologist with me, have his sperm tested, his blood work completed, fold tiny clothes and pick out names. he bailed three weeks before we officially began that journey. Don't get me wrong, I was never the perfect person. I was resentful, argumentative and confused. I was unaware of 3/4 of the problems he had, and I pursued my own ideas in a sort of "revenge." I would talk to people he may not want me to, or stay out a little later at Tim Hortons working on a Scentsy event regardless of how frustrated it would make him. I would let my phone die just so I could have a few hours' radio silence, and every time I went to Mum's I was thankful that my Fido phone has no reception there so I could have some peace and quiet. We had trust issues all around, and were not a good match.
Our child would have been born in May, around my birthday. We would have been 22 1/2 weeks right now, the same as a few people on my friends' list. I see their updates, their beautiful wonderful blessed baby bellies, and it fills me with both joy and sadness. I cannot bear to look at the beautiful sonograms and infant photos at times. I can't handle touching a pregnant woman's swollen belly. I never have and I don't think I ever will. I have learned to brave baby showers, although they can still be hard in their own way. I have learned to laugh and joke and empathize about period pain, pregnancy woes, and all the go-betweens that "should" make me "female". But laying a hand on a swollen belly, baby kicking and squirming at the sound of their mommy and daddy's voices, heartbeat, breathing, is my breaking point.
I've been working very hard to keep positive, and I'm so happy with the steps I've made since the summer. I cut my hair shorter, and have actively pursued my dream career. I've met an amazing man who supports me in all that I do and for all that I am. And I've truly started to like myself again. Sadness is overwhelming at times, and I know that it will never truly go away, but I know that I'm finally on the right path and with some faith, trust and pixie dust, my hopes and dreams will come true. Just because things are "supposed' to get better, doesn't mean its not OK to cry!!!
Thanks for reading!