Last night, my ex husband and I were discussing the fact that he owes me a sizable sum of money based on a stipulation in our divorce agreement. He is supposed to pay half of all summer camp expenses every year for our now 9-yr old son and he is supposed to pay half of one sport per season for our son and he's supposed to pay half of all school-related activities and supplies. He owes me just south of $3,000.00. Since July, 2008, he's only given me two hundred dollars.
In the conversation, which surprisingly enough was pleasant and not heated, he attempted to turn the conversation around - steering it away from what he owes me by asking me why I didn't "put my education to better use" and "get a better job" which translates into if I made more money, he wouldn't have to pay me as much child support. The child support I receive from him has been the same amount for six years AND just for the record, it's a 3-figure monthly amount. My ex stated to me in no uncertain terms that the amount I receive from him will be good enough until our son is 21 years old. I'm sure many of you - if not all - can guess what my reaction was to that lame assumption.
Let me explain about choices. I did not "choose" this life of "poverty." I did not "choose" to live in the "ghetto." I did not "choose" NOT to be surrounded by loving relatives and close friends upon whom I can depend in emergencies. I made one bad choice - marrying my ex-husband - and the domino effect of that choice created a nearly 10-year landslide of devastating effects. My ex and I split up right after my son was born but our marriage had been doomed even before I said I do. I believe I was temporarily insane when I said those two words - I should have run screaming from the church saying "I DO NOT " and headed underground. But alas, I am not a mind reader and obviously, one lapse in judgment of character and choice of husband started downward slide in my life.
My ex husband is/was an alcoholic which was the sole reason for the demise of our very short lived marriage. When I found out I was pregnant - a mere 4 months after I said those fateful words - I did not experience a profound sense of joy, I did not embrace pending motherhood in any way, shape or form. I felt raw terror, cold fear and a sense of doom that I never had in my life.
Those emotions were right on target.
I did not want children for two reasons: (a) I wasn't altogether convinced I'd be a good mother because my role models for parents - particularly my father - were lacking in the nurturing and bond departments - two of the biggest ties that bond parents and children together; and (b) I was terrified of being pregnant.
But my son wasn't a shirt I could take back to the store so I accepted my fate be it as it was. My ex husband felt no joy at all - he took to his beer for the next nine months and left me pretty much to deal with an already worsening situation.
My pregnancy was a nightmare. My stomach came in the door before I did and my son must have thought he was an Olympic gymnast for I was kicked and punched from the inside every day as soon as he figured out he could. I hated the way I look. I gained weight just by looking at food although I tried to eat healthy. It was a losing battle. My kid kept growing and so did my belly. I was this hulking, stumbling monster, grotesquely stretched and pretty much wishing I would just die. When my water broke, that's about all that happened. I prayed that I would have a c-section because the thought of pushing an oversized watermelon through something the size of a keyhole was terrifying beyond comprehension and I figured I could survive being sliced opened more than I could having a "natural" birth. I don't do pain very well. And as it turned out, I never went into labor and did end up having an emergency c-section because my blood pressure skyrocketed and my son's heart rate dropped to almost nothing. We both barely survived.
But there he was, almost 9 pounds and there I was, horribly disfigured, horribly deformed and wondering if life was worth living.
There are no books a parent can read to tell you what to do. There are no google sites that say explicitly THIS is how you become a parent. You don't "become" a parent - either you are or you aren't. And my ex wasn't and his absence from right after the birth of my son to the next four years was clear indication that I was going to do this parent "thing" alone. My "choice" to marry him in 1999 was now becoming an undeniably and irrevocably a daytime nightmare that was going to last for a long, long time.
Tomorrow: More Choices and I Don't Have a Clue What I am Doing.
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