by Lucy K. Wright
- (*Please note: Nothing in this entry is meant to suggest, offer opinions about, or judge anyone’s particular beliefs about the topic of when life begins or otherwise. This is just me, telling my story about what happened to me mentally and physically, and how I felt during this particular time of my life. I respect others’ beliefs whether they are similar or different than mine, and ask you please do the same.)
We both worked for about five years after the wedding. I felt somewhat independent during that time, making my own money, having a social life at and outside of work, and traveling quite a lot. He traveled for his job also, and I believe deep down that we managed during our early years of marriage because we were often apart.
I had a beautiful baby girl soon after I left the workplace. My first realization of pure, true, unconditional love was the moment she was born and the doctor placed her on my chest. I will always know that feeling. I stayed at home with my daughter and embraced motherhood. At times I struggled being at home, with the companionship of only a newborn, but I also knew how lucky I was to have that wonderful opportunity and time with my child, and I cherished it. I didn’t have the socialization at work or feel the independence I once had, but I started to involve myself in groups of stay-at-home moms and quickly made new friends.
It was during those years when I really started to feel the parallel of my life with the Ex-N starting to move apart. He was still traveling and socializing a lot, especially it seemed with a lot of women at work. He brought some of his female teammates to our home on occasion after they had lunch out together. I was generally caught by surprise with these unannounced visits, the women appearing in their business suits, and me looking very comfortable still wearing workout pants from the day before, no makeup and overall a look that confirmed I was indeed a stay-at-home mom of a newborn. When I asked the N-Ex about these women the standard answer was always about them being friends and cohorts at work only. That may have been the case, I don’t really know, but it was clear, with these female friends and his numerous expensive work-event nights out, our two worlds were growing apart very quickly. Where we once had the topic of each other’s respective careers to discuss, we no longer had that as my world revolved around everything baby and his remained the same independent one he had always known before.
He was not comfortable around babies and he never helped with any of the child-rearing duties. Feeding, changing, getting up at all hours of the night, walks, doctor visits, laundry, play-dates, early learning lessons, buying diapers and formula, etc. etc. etc. were all on my plate; I was home after all, and he was still “working”. I left him home with the baby for about a three hour stretch one day to get my hair done finally after not being out of the house for quite some time. I came home to him wearing a mask and gloves, sitting over our baby on the floor with a big black trashbag nearby. I asked what he was doing and he repulsively answered that he finally “had” to change a really messy diaper because it took so long for me to get home. The Ex-N did not really do the baby-thing ever. Or the child-thing for that matter either.
A little over two years after our daughter being born, I discovered I was pregnant again. I was very happy as I felt good about the mommy-network I had worked so hard to establish by then, and was ready for another bundle of joy to love.
Several weeks into the pregnancy I went for a checkup and was told by my doctor that the fetus was not developing. She explained a lot of things that visit, and basically told me to expect a miscarriage. She preferred I try and have it naturally if possible, and after much discussion so I understood as much as I could, I agreed. She said it would most likely happen in a weeks’ time.
I walked out of that office in a mental state I cannot describe. I felt sadness, disbelief, numbness, guilt, and anger all at once. I looked at everyone around me that day and many days to come, and could not stop thinking that as others were going to the grocery store and driving their cars and taking their kids to preschool, at any moment of time, as I was doing those regular daily tasks also, I could have a miscarriage. Emotionally it was something I tried to accept, but the unknown of what was going to happen to my body, where I was going to be, and how I was going to feel when it did happen, was something that was on my brain during every minute of every day and night.
My N-Ex listened as I sobbed and told him about the doctor visit and what would be happening to me in the next week. He took more of a factual approach and did research to learn more than what he thought I heard and repeated from the doctor. He asked several questions about the timing of this event to come; when I said the doctor wanted to give it a week before discussing next options I could sense something wrong from him. During this same conversation he brought up his Boys Week trip that was planned and scheduled for the latter part of the week.
Didn’t I remember?
He had a plane ticket that would take him several states away to bond with his college buddies, a trip they took annually, and participation taken so seriously, it may as well have been required to sign confirmation of attendance in blood. He said several times he could consider not going; he “could stay home”; but I knew better, and despite the emotional and physical state I was in, there was just no point of trying to suggest he might actually consider staying with me to help.
Over the next few days I felt the world spinning around me. Everything normal I tried to do was not normal that week. My doctor told me what to expect, but I did not really know what to expect or what was going to happen, as I had never experienced anything like that before. Ex-N kept bringing up the trip and asking me whether I thought he should go or not go; he would stay if I really wanted him to. I guess you could say he offered, but the questions were rhetorical and the offer was anything but genuine. I knew it would be easier for him to go and me to deal with the week by myself. It was clear he really didn’t want to be there with me, helping me with our three year old, anyhow. As I had learned a long time prior in our relationship, Boys Week, which was basically a full party week where a bunch of fraternity guys got together, drinking, playing games, doing whatever else they did and pretending to still be in college again, was never an option or a “maybe”; That planned week trumped anything else in life, apparently even this.
I knew I would have a miscarriage that week. He got on a flight for Boys Week anyhow.
I physically got through my week. It was tough. Mentally it took me a long time to recover. I believe things in life happen for a reason, and I believe there was some reason my body was not ready to handle a pregnancy at that particular time. I cried, slept, did a lot of thinking, and talked to my mom and my friends. They were supportive and I was grateful they were there. I hugged my baby girl very tight. I healed and moved on. But I never forgot that my “husband” was not there for me during that time, and that his social life was so much more important to him that week than I was.
About a year later I became pregnant again and delivered a healthy, happy, beautiful baby boy. I sometimes look at him today, and think about his kind, warm heart that loves “mom” unconditionally. I know he would not be the one here today had I not experienced what I did prior to my pregnancy with him. I count my lucky stars every day that I was chosen to be his mom. And my daughter’s too.
I don’t know why Narcissists make the choices they do, that hurt the people they claim to love. As difficult as my past with the Ex-N has been, while still dealing with lawyers, court and so much unnecessary drama even now, I have two amazing and beautiful children who make this battle and my life worth living each and every minute of each and every day.
Things do happen for a reason.
~LLS~ Lucy K. Wright
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