If you are just joining in, you catch up with Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, and Part 4. Then this next entry might make a little more sense. My nine months of being pregnant felt like years (as I am sure for some of you as well) but mine had a deeper sense of time, as my child (my little Pixie) was forcing my Authentic Self to be seen.
SO, in my last month of pregnancy, everything became crystal clear for me. Sort of like all the illusions of life were gone, and the Pixie was giving me truth goggles.
But all of this was a lot to take in, it's like standing in a fog but seeing clearly. My conscious self wasn't sure what to believe, as I had been told for so many years that I exaggerated everything, and made things up, or blew things out of proportion.
The Moron could see a shift, so he started working heavily on my family. I learned later, that at this time he would tell people that I was starting to lose it. He would call up my family, out of feigned concern, and say that he was "really worried about me" and was afraid that I would cause harm to myself, and ultimately the baby.
Fortunately one person out of all of this saw thru it, and slowly convinced the rest of the family of my sanity.
Along with this new found clarity, I also had all of the hormones whipping around me (like every other pregnant lady). And it turns out you can get post-partum depression - before - you have given birth. I can remember talking to my father (my parents lived on the other side of the country) and crying because I was so scared and I had no idea how I could support this baby as the Moron had stated it was up to me to provide for the baby.
After all, he was working so hard just to provide a roof over our head, and food on the table, the least I could do is provide meager diapers etc...
I was totally stressed out - and of course on sick leave, and worried about the baby... and I was crying for what seemed to be weeks at a time.
My father at this time became quite worried about me, and had a plan to drive and pick me up and bring me home where I would have the baby there.
At the last minute, I unconsciously shut down and put up a wall for my survival, and once again chose to disbelieve what I truly felt, and forced myself back on the path of denial, and the false belief that everything was just fine.
I was apparently very convincing, as my father called off the trip, and I laughed it off as hormones. Weeks later my mother arrived on my due date. The night she arrived at my house, I went into labour...
Surviving abuse and everything else life throws at me...
Showing posts with label pregnancy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label pregnancy. Show all posts
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Monday, November 29, 2010
Pregnancy with a Moron - Part 4
So my last trimester of pregnancy was my most action packed one, in more ways then one. I was on sick leave – as per the doctor’s orders – and was getting a little scared. My blood pressure was rising as well as my little Pixie’s inside of me. But considering what was going on outside of the womb, I guess it was to be expected.
The Moron was in full force the last couple of months of the pregnancy. I can only assume it was the encroaching responsibility of a little person, and the increase of $$ it would mean bringing one into this world. Yep, probably the money thing, sad really that the Moron’s nemesis was some printed paper.
As I was resting – as per doctor’s orders – and of course worrying about the health of my lil Pixie, the Moron was trying to get me to get a job under the table. I wasn’t paying my way, you see.
As I was trying to figure out how to make some money (with all of my muscles in my stomach and abdomen – and some I didn’t know I even had – were in agony) the Moron went into the studio and sold things for super cheap. All of my art and creative musings, “ Five bucks, everything for five bucks” he would tell customers.
As I was selling all my prized possessions, and all that gave me some joy (such as my dirt bike, which he threw in my hand painted helmet for free to the new owner) the Moron said we had to sell my car and go down to one vehicle.
Let me explain that we lived about 30 minutes from the nearest town (population 2500) and about 1 1/2 – 2 hours from the closest “real” town (ie working hospital). Being home alone – let alone with a newborn baby – without a vehicle would be absolutely crazy, not to mention unsafe.
The Moron earned a really good income, but it was considered “HIS” money. Up until this point, I didn’t care about that, being a non-materialistic person that I am. I think he just couldn’t overcome the struggle of being out o control of every situation. And let me tell you – babies will do that to you. You really have no control over them, they have their own way :)
I loved my SUV – and I HAD BOUGHT IT MYSELF, but, I had a small amount left owing on it, and no idea how I could pay that off as the Moron refused to help me, and my maternity would not cover that expense as well as pay for all of the new baby stuff. This is what angered the Moron. And the closer I came to my due date, the more outraged he became. With my savings blown from the bathroom, I had nowhere left to turn, and I started to spiral downwards.
I think as the Moron stepped up the Emotional and Financial Abuse, I felt more and more trapped, and realized that this was no way for a child to be raised. I started to see the light. I think the whole time that this little entity was growing inside of me, my innerself was also growing – growing stronger, growing wiser, growing more authentic. I think the Moron could sense me pulling away, could sense something happening on a level he could not understand. But he had to step it up, as losing was not an option for him. The Moron would joke about killing me in my final month, but salvaging the baby – and I would never get to meet her. He would joke about hiring OJ Simpson’s lawyer to get him off.
The Moron’s depression/anger reached its heightened state when he told me that if I ever left him, he would kill me and take the Pixie away from me forever…
This fear that was instilled in me – is still there. That is something that will never leave you, no matter what is said and done. Some things can never be undone. You can live through them, work through them, but it is always there...
The Moron was in full force the last couple of months of the pregnancy. I can only assume it was the encroaching responsibility of a little person, and the increase of $$ it would mean bringing one into this world. Yep, probably the money thing, sad really that the Moron’s nemesis was some printed paper.
As I was resting – as per doctor’s orders – and of course worrying about the health of my lil Pixie, the Moron was trying to get me to get a job under the table. I wasn’t paying my way, you see.
As I was trying to figure out how to make some money (with all of my muscles in my stomach and abdomen – and some I didn’t know I even had – were in agony) the Moron went into the studio and sold things for super cheap. All of my art and creative musings, “ Five bucks, everything for five bucks” he would tell customers.
As I was selling all my prized possessions, and all that gave me some joy (such as my dirt bike, which he threw in my hand painted helmet for free to the new owner) the Moron said we had to sell my car and go down to one vehicle.
Let me explain that we lived about 30 minutes from the nearest town (population 2500) and about 1 1/2 – 2 hours from the closest “real” town (ie working hospital). Being home alone – let alone with a newborn baby – without a vehicle would be absolutely crazy, not to mention unsafe.
The Moron earned a really good income, but it was considered “HIS” money. Up until this point, I didn’t care about that, being a non-materialistic person that I am. I think he just couldn’t overcome the struggle of being out o control of every situation. And let me tell you – babies will do that to you. You really have no control over them, they have their own way :)
I loved my SUV – and I HAD BOUGHT IT MYSELF, but, I had a small amount left owing on it, and no idea how I could pay that off as the Moron refused to help me, and my maternity would not cover that expense as well as pay for all of the new baby stuff. This is what angered the Moron. And the closer I came to my due date, the more outraged he became. With my savings blown from the bathroom, I had nowhere left to turn, and I started to spiral downwards.
I think as the Moron stepped up the Emotional and Financial Abuse, I felt more and more trapped, and realized that this was no way for a child to be raised. I started to see the light. I think the whole time that this little entity was growing inside of me, my innerself was also growing – growing stronger, growing wiser, growing more authentic. I think the Moron could sense me pulling away, could sense something happening on a level he could not understand. But he had to step it up, as losing was not an option for him. The Moron would joke about killing me in my final month, but salvaging the baby – and I would never get to meet her. He would joke about hiring OJ Simpson’s lawyer to get him off.
The Moron’s depression/anger reached its heightened state when he told me that if I ever left him, he would kill me and take the Pixie away from me forever…
This fear that was instilled in me – is still there. That is something that will never leave you, no matter what is said and done. Some things can never be undone. You can live through them, work through them, but it is always there...
Sunday, November 14, 2010
The Bathroom that almost never was...
We lived in an older house. I thought it was cute, we had some land, and it was secluded - things I now know my Moron loved in his attempt to isolate me. It had two bathrooms; a main one, and an en suite. The main bathroom was a very interesting one, that I am told was quite popular in the 70's. I have never seen this type before, so I just thought it weird. It was set up so that it was two separate rooms, with an adjoining door between. I think the idea being that one could have a shower, without hogging the whole bathroom, and someone else could use the toilet while having their privacy. A total waste of space, if you ask me.
Anyways, the plans since we bought the house, were to knock out the middle wall (and door between them) and make one big bathroom, with a beautiful tub and separate shower. The Moron did not like spending money, but many people agreed with me, that it would increase the property value of the house - so he relented.
In about my first trimester of pregnancy, the Moron tore down the wall. I was getting pretty excited as not only was I ecstatic about being pregnant, but I was going to get the bathroom of my dreams too. Well, you know how they say you shouldn't count your chickens until they're hatched...
Well, you shouldn't be happy about a bathroom until the walls are up, mudded, and the bathroom fixtures are back in. Which was going to be a long time....
I had this gorgeous claw foot tub in which I had shipped from home (I bought it at an auction, for peanuts) that I had refinished, including the original oak rim. This refinished tub had cost me a pretty penny, but I had saved for a looooong time. ANd I was so looking forward to a long soak in this gorgeous 6 foot tub. Everything was ready, except construction had stopped on my dream bathroom.
Being on sick leave and about 7 months pregnant, there wasn't a whole lot that I could do to help. Not to mention that I could barely see my toes anymore. The Moron got wind of how much this bathroom really meant to me, and how much I wanted to soak in that tub... suddenly he refused to do any of the labour and all of a sudden said that we didn't have any money to pay for the renovations.
Staring at the main bathroom (which at the moment looked like Wolverine had clawed it all to hell) I did what any self respecting, pregnant wife of a Moron would do. I started to cry. And after I dried my eyes, I pulled out all of my RRSP's and found the money to finish the renovations. I was on a time line, I did not want the drywall dust to be flying in the middle of winter when the baby was born, and certainly didn't want all this construction to be happening adjacent to her room.
Luckily the Moron worked 12 hour shifts, and had gone on a vacation for a couple of days, and a friend of the family helped with the drywall. At 8 months pregnant I mudded and primed and painted that whole damn bathroom by myself, and pulled every single muscle in my stomach and abdomen doing it. But it was done!! I knew I would hear it from the Moron when he got back - but at least it would be done! And just for clarification, he was mad because I had enlisted the help of his sister's boyfriend to put the drywall up - it portrayed him as being less than perfect and unable to handle things himself. This was FAILURE in his eyes - the ultimate death. Promoting him as less than perfect to the world - was unforgivable, and always came with a price.
But I also got my bathroom, and to this day, I still think it is the reason that the house sold...
Anyways, the plans since we bought the house, were to knock out the middle wall (and door between them) and make one big bathroom, with a beautiful tub and separate shower. The Moron did not like spending money, but many people agreed with me, that it would increase the property value of the house - so he relented.
In about my first trimester of pregnancy, the Moron tore down the wall. I was getting pretty excited as not only was I ecstatic about being pregnant, but I was going to get the bathroom of my dreams too. Well, you know how they say you shouldn't count your chickens until they're hatched...
Well, you shouldn't be happy about a bathroom until the walls are up, mudded, and the bathroom fixtures are back in. Which was going to be a long time....
I had this gorgeous claw foot tub in which I had shipped from home (I bought it at an auction, for peanuts) that I had refinished, including the original oak rim. This refinished tub had cost me a pretty penny, but I had saved for a looooong time. ANd I was so looking forward to a long soak in this gorgeous 6 foot tub. Everything was ready, except construction had stopped on my dream bathroom.
Being on sick leave and about 7 months pregnant, there wasn't a whole lot that I could do to help. Not to mention that I could barely see my toes anymore. The Moron got wind of how much this bathroom really meant to me, and how much I wanted to soak in that tub... suddenly he refused to do any of the labour and all of a sudden said that we didn't have any money to pay for the renovations.
Staring at the main bathroom (which at the moment looked like Wolverine had clawed it all to hell) I did what any self respecting, pregnant wife of a Moron would do. I started to cry. And after I dried my eyes, I pulled out all of my RRSP's and found the money to finish the renovations. I was on a time line, I did not want the drywall dust to be flying in the middle of winter when the baby was born, and certainly didn't want all this construction to be happening adjacent to her room.
Luckily the Moron worked 12 hour shifts, and had gone on a vacation for a couple of days, and a friend of the family helped with the drywall. At 8 months pregnant I mudded and primed and painted that whole damn bathroom by myself, and pulled every single muscle in my stomach and abdomen doing it. But it was done!! I knew I would hear it from the Moron when he got back - but at least it would be done! And just for clarification, he was mad because I had enlisted the help of his sister's boyfriend to put the drywall up - it portrayed him as being less than perfect and unable to handle things himself. This was FAILURE in his eyes - the ultimate death. Promoting him as less than perfect to the world - was unforgivable, and always came with a price.
But I also got my bathroom, and to this day, I still think it is the reason that the house sold...
Monday, November 8, 2010
Pregnancy With a Moron Part 3
If you just started reading, you can check out the first part of this story here, and the second part here.
SO the Moron wanted to take me out on a romantic date, he said. He said that we hadn't spent any quality time together so he was going to take care of all the plans for this weekend.
Saturday morning he woke me up early. I was now in my eighth month of pregnancy, and on sick leave and ordered to take it easy. I wasn't sleeping that much as my big belly, as I am sure all of you Moms can attest to, was feeling very uncomfortable and my little Pixie was fluttering up a storm at night time. For some reason I always got my best sleep through the early to late morning. So - it was no surprise that the Moron had to take that away from me, all in his bastardized version of love.
So up I get. I ask him what we are doing. He tells me to dress warmly. I ask if we are going to be outside. And this is where he reveals to me his glorious date plans.
He tells me we are going to get firewood.
Yep, your reaction is pretty much my reaction. But I try to conceal mydisgust surprise, and try to gently explain that I am not really in any condition to be cutting down or carrying firewood. To which, of course, I hear how he had spent so much time planning this, and do I not want to spend time with him, and what did I expect out of him a plane ticket to France?
Funny how a Moron can twist anything. Of course this leads to how he works hard all day, and I just lay on the couch all day long, and we need to get firewood for the wood stove to cut our heating costs.
Did I mention the Moron forced us to live in sub-zero temperatures in order to save money? Yep, even wore hat and gloves in the house at times. Though I raised the thermostat every time he left, eventhough he forbid me to move it past 15 degrees. Yes, he actually used those words, forbid. I got some really deep satisfaction as I watched him drive from the house as the furnace fired up...
Anyways, after grumbling and sulking for a bit, the Moron finally said if I expected to have it above 15 degrees when the baby came, I had to help with the wood. So we loaded the dogs up int the truck, and off we went...
I think the Moron purposely cut the biggest trees he could find that day. And after an extra long guilt trip and underlying threats, I started to load the wood into the truck. As the day went on, the pieces got bigger - and when I refused to carry the larger pieces (not to mention I had a hard enough time tying my own shoes as a result of my pregnant belly, at this point) he lost it and I picked up a rather large piece of wood.
Pop, pop, pop went my belly. It felt like rubber bands snapping in my belly, and the pain wasn't too shabby either. I of course was being a 'baby' and this was when he pulled out the wieners and decided to have a campfire. There was nothing I could do but wait for him to be finished and decide that he was ready to go home. I knew all too well that the more I asked, and especially pleaded, the longer he would take. Morons love control. And we were miles from civilization. So I bested the cold and pain and didn't give him the satisfaction of knowing how much agony I truly was in.
Coming up next, the bathroom that never was...
SO the Moron wanted to take me out on a romantic date, he said. He said that we hadn't spent any quality time together so he was going to take care of all the plans for this weekend.
Saturday morning he woke me up early. I was now in my eighth month of pregnancy, and on sick leave and ordered to take it easy. I wasn't sleeping that much as my big belly, as I am sure all of you Moms can attest to, was feeling very uncomfortable and my little Pixie was fluttering up a storm at night time. For some reason I always got my best sleep through the early to late morning. So - it was no surprise that the Moron had to take that away from me, all in his bastardized version of love.
So up I get. I ask him what we are doing. He tells me to dress warmly. I ask if we are going to be outside. And this is where he reveals to me his glorious date plans.
He tells me we are going to get firewood.
 |
| Lucky Me, not only married to a Moron, but one that has the romance of a mushroom... |
Yep, your reaction is pretty much my reaction. But I try to conceal my
Funny how a Moron can twist anything. Of course this leads to how he works hard all day, and I just lay on the couch all day long, and we need to get firewood for the wood stove to cut our heating costs.
Did I mention the Moron forced us to live in sub-zero temperatures in order to save money? Yep, even wore hat and gloves in the house at times. Though I raised the thermostat every time he left, eventhough he forbid me to move it past 15 degrees. Yes, he actually used those words, forbid. I got some really deep satisfaction as I watched him drive from the house as the furnace fired up...
Anyways, after grumbling and sulking for a bit, the Moron finally said if I expected to have it above 15 degrees when the baby came, I had to help with the wood. So we loaded the dogs up int the truck, and off we went...
I think the Moron purposely cut the biggest trees he could find that day. And after an extra long guilt trip and underlying threats, I started to load the wood into the truck. As the day went on, the pieces got bigger - and when I refused to carry the larger pieces (not to mention I had a hard enough time tying my own shoes as a result of my pregnant belly, at this point) he lost it and I picked up a rather large piece of wood.
Pop, pop, pop went my belly. It felt like rubber bands snapping in my belly, and the pain wasn't too shabby either. I of course was being a 'baby' and this was when he pulled out the wieners and decided to have a campfire. There was nothing I could do but wait for him to be finished and decide that he was ready to go home. I knew all too well that the more I asked, and especially pleaded, the longer he would take. Morons love control. And we were miles from civilization. So I bested the cold and pain and didn't give him the satisfaction of knowing how much agony I truly was in.
Coming up next, the bathroom that never was...
Friday, October 29, 2010
Pregnancy With a Moron Part 2
If you just started reading, you can check out the first part of this story here.
I knew the moment I was pregnant. I knew I was going to be the mother of a little girl. And it was a dream come true. For nine months this little entity grew inside of me. For nine months, I silently grew stronger, and my life began to change just as my body began to change. As my body grew rounder, my inner self began to change as well. I was growing stronger...
I went on daily walks, this time there were two of us. I would talk, and sing to her. And I would promise her that I would do my best to protect her.
If any of you have been pregnant, then you know how sensitive your nose can become – and how volatile the reaction to smells you can have!!! Normally I love fish – but holy cow, the smallest scent of fish could send my gag reflex into immediate reaction!
Now the Moron was NOT a fish lover, but what do you know, after learning about my immediate and often intense reaction he became a fish lover. Gotta love the Morons – they bring cruelty to new levels!!
I still can perfectly recall the very first time I heart her little heartbeat. It was the single most amazing little sound I had ever heard. In my last couple of months of pregnancy, my blood pressure shot up and the swelling increased in my hands, feet and ankles dramatically. And when I heard that sweet little heartbeat (they listen to it every check-up) it was so fast. Her heart, as well as mine were racing, and the doctor didn’t necessarily put me on bed rest – but gave me a note to take sick leave from work and to lie down with my feet up for at the very least 4-6 hours a day.
One day when I was home, the Moron decided he wanted Swedish meatballs for dinner, and put them in the slow cooker. Now holy meatballs batman – this stunk up the whole house, and I was having difficulty not vomiting every minute. SO I aired out the house and moved the slow-cooker to the porch outside.
Well, you’d think that I had shrunk his favourite clothes or something because the grief I received from that was absolutely crazy!!! He said I was attracting bears, and it wasn’t meant to be used outside (on a covered porch, I might add). And well, needless to say I spent the night in my SUV again, content, though cold, and him thinking he had won.
When I came back the next day the Moron was in a strangely happy mood. This of course always made me extremely leery. He wanted to go on a date that weekend, as he had “missed me” and we hardly spent time together. He was going to plan the romantic getaway, and everything… boy was I in for a treat…
to be continued...
I knew the moment I was pregnant. I knew I was going to be the mother of a little girl. And it was a dream come true. For nine months this little entity grew inside of me. For nine months, I silently grew stronger, and my life began to change just as my body began to change. As my body grew rounder, my inner self began to change as well. I was growing stronger...
I went on daily walks, this time there were two of us. I would talk, and sing to her. And I would promise her that I would do my best to protect her.
If any of you have been pregnant, then you know how sensitive your nose can become – and how volatile the reaction to smells you can have!!! Normally I love fish – but holy cow, the smallest scent of fish could send my gag reflex into immediate reaction!
Now the Moron was NOT a fish lover, but what do you know, after learning about my immediate and often intense reaction he became a fish lover. Gotta love the Morons – they bring cruelty to new levels!!
I still can perfectly recall the very first time I heart her little heartbeat. It was the single most amazing little sound I had ever heard. In my last couple of months of pregnancy, my blood pressure shot up and the swelling increased in my hands, feet and ankles dramatically. And when I heard that sweet little heartbeat (they listen to it every check-up) it was so fast. Her heart, as well as mine were racing, and the doctor didn’t necessarily put me on bed rest – but gave me a note to take sick leave from work and to lie down with my feet up for at the very least 4-6 hours a day.
One day when I was home, the Moron decided he wanted Swedish meatballs for dinner, and put them in the slow cooker. Now holy meatballs batman – this stunk up the whole house, and I was having difficulty not vomiting every minute. SO I aired out the house and moved the slow-cooker to the porch outside.
Well, you’d think that I had shrunk his favourite clothes or something because the grief I received from that was absolutely crazy!!! He said I was attracting bears, and it wasn’t meant to be used outside (on a covered porch, I might add). And well, needless to say I spent the night in my SUV again, content, though cold, and him thinking he had won.
When I came back the next day the Moron was in a strangely happy mood. This of course always made me extremely leery. He wanted to go on a date that weekend, as he had “missed me” and we hardly spent time together. He was going to plan the romantic getaway, and everything… boy was I in for a treat…
to be continued...
Monday, October 18, 2010
Pregnancy With a Moron Part 1
From the moment I knew I had this little entity growing inside of me, there was a shift. A change in my being. A growth of something more than just this precious being, flourishing in my belly.
I was so excited. And I knew right away that I was pregnant with a girl. I was going to eat right, exercise right, and just enjoy every stage of my pregnancy. I felt like I was glowing from the inside out.
Now, let me tell you, there's a whole lotta things that no one ever tells you about pregnancy. And if you are about to be a first time mom I will offer you up a word of advice; throw away those damn pregnancy books. Talk about scaring the begeesuz out of you!!!!
First, my boobs grew 2 sizes in the first month - Hello stripper boobs! They have never left (maybe have gotten a little less perky) but you know, somehow I still haven't gotten used to them ?!? Gone are my bra-less days :( But on a good note, I can now fill out some tops or dresses that merely used to hang on me :)
In the first trimester - your body is undergoing such work, I suppose, that you are simply always exhausted. Try being exhausted with a Moron who never feels you do enough of anything the whole day - and you are guaranteed to be totally run off your feet!!
I spent many a nights in the back of my SUV, while I was pregnant. It wasn't so bad until it got really cold. I had made a Huge pillow for the back, for our dogs to lay on, and it was actually quite comfy. So when the Moron was in one of his moods, or would tell me to leave, or be in one of his moods, and refuse to leave; I would just get in my car and drive up a country road...
It actually made me feel a lot more safe and protected, then sleeping at home, and the Moron thought he had "won" so there was no major repercussions when I came back. I would always store some food in there and such. The only annoying thing was the constantly peeing at night, and those damn coyotes sniffing my ass!!!!
to be continued...
 |
| ( this very cool pair of photos are not mine, but I have unfortunately lost the website I got them from, so if anyone knows could they please let me know so I can give credit where credit is due, thank you kindly! ) |
I was so excited. And I knew right away that I was pregnant with a girl. I was going to eat right, exercise right, and just enjoy every stage of my pregnancy. I felt like I was glowing from the inside out.
Now, let me tell you, there's a whole lotta things that no one ever tells you about pregnancy. And if you are about to be a first time mom I will offer you up a word of advice; throw away those damn pregnancy books. Talk about scaring the begeesuz out of you!!!!
First, my boobs grew 2 sizes in the first month - Hello stripper boobs! They have never left (maybe have gotten a little less perky) but you know, somehow I still haven't gotten used to them ?!? Gone are my bra-less days :( But on a good note, I can now fill out some tops or dresses that merely used to hang on me :)
In the first trimester - your body is undergoing such work, I suppose, that you are simply always exhausted. Try being exhausted with a Moron who never feels you do enough of anything the whole day - and you are guaranteed to be totally run off your feet!!
I spent many a nights in the back of my SUV, while I was pregnant. It wasn't so bad until it got really cold. I had made a Huge pillow for the back, for our dogs to lay on, and it was actually quite comfy. So when the Moron was in one of his moods, or would tell me to leave, or be in one of his moods, and refuse to leave; I would just get in my car and drive up a country road...
It actually made me feel a lot more safe and protected, then sleeping at home, and the Moron thought he had "won" so there was no major repercussions when I came back. I would always store some food in there and such. The only annoying thing was the constantly peeing at night, and those damn coyotes sniffing my ass!!!!
to be continued...
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