It wasn't ALL bad, ALL the time. There were times that we laughed, yes. But I think the moment I learned I was pregnant was when I realized that that was not the life I wanted. Even though we barely talked, I remember calling my sister, breaking down and confessing that I didn't want to have a baby by him. Even in the blindness of love and infatuation, something about knowing you'll be responsible for another life allows you to see things so much more clear.
At that time I knew of six other children of his before mine. Six children by six different women. Of those children, he'd pick and choose which ones he wanted to deal with. I even heard him telling his mother one time, "If I don't fuck with them, you don't fuck with them either!" (Yep, in regard to his own children.) To me, that meant I'd have to be a slave to that relationship in order for him to be a father. That's not what I wanted for my baby - a sometimey, whenever-I-feel-like-it father. But I had already been charged with Delivery and Manufacturing of a narcotic, had lost my job because of it and was fighting the case, now pregnant. I didn't even know if I myself could be there for my baby.
After I had my son, I was sentenced to prison, signed up for boot camp while there, completed the program and was able to come home early. Now after that, I honestly can't remember any good times with my son's father. No laughing, not even a desire to be there. The beatings became worse. He dragged me down flights of stairs, beating me in front of neighbors. I, myself, became angry all the time. I couldn't believe I had gone to prison and come home to the same bullshit: him putting his hands on me, women knocking on my door, calling my phone, calling my parole officer to get me sent back to prison. And we had a baby now. But I realized that that was it; that was what life would be like as long as I stayed.
Thankfully, my son never saw his father hit me. He did beat me in another room while my baby was in the house. I called my friends to come get my son because I wanted to kill him. I really did. To this day, I have never been more angry. But I saw it hurt him more when he came towards me and my baby pushed him away and began crying. My baby was afraid and he could sense his father was hurting me. My heart broke. I didn't want my son growing up feeling like he had to protect me from his own father. And at not even a year old, that's what he was doing.
I sat my son's father down to talk and told him I had to leave; that I couldn't do it anymore. I was miserable and I wanted better for my son. His voice cracked when he told me he needed me to stay. He was being investigated by the DEA (Drug Enforcement Agency) and felt his time was running short. Although I didn't want to stay, I felt obligated to. WHY was I so weak?! He had so much control over me. I think more than he himself even knew.
He would spend nights away from home with another female. I found out about her, she knew about me and while she'd try to argue, I'd try to get her to get him to leave me for her. I'm not sure if she thought I was being sarcastic. I remember telling her she could have him. I felt bad for her because I knew she didn't know what she was getting herself into but I wanted out. Every night I prayed. I WEPT, begging God to get me out of that relationship, no matter what it took. I was too weak to leave on my own. Whatever that hold was over me, I couldn't break it.
He was federally indicted soon after. I had only been home for 6 months. I'm unsure where I or my son would be now if he hadn't. Not saying I wished it on him. His own actions got him there and I would never wish something like that on anyone. But I do believe what happened was necessary for me to be able to make a better life for myself and my son.
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