When people say they didn't know they were in an abusive relationship...I used to think..."Uh...if he's hitting you one day then buying you gifts and saying sorry the next...that's a pretty safe bet.." I didn't realize that was what was going on. Fuck, I didn't even get gifts. So, Ted got out and everything was fine. By the new year, we had moved into our apartment. Scratch that. MY apartment that he just so happened to pay half of everything on. Ted got fired from the fast food place because of retarded attendance crap, (I'm sorry I didn't want to drive in 3 feet of snow to get him to work) and we were temporarily screwed. Until he got a job at a pretty well known dining establishment. It wasn't like $100 plate meals or anything, but he was a cook, and it paid the bills, when his parents didn't. Getting on in my pregnancy, I quit the donut shop. Because I was getting treated like crap. Me with a baby belly, 4 or 5 months at least, on the floor scrubbing out the insides of trash cans and standing on countertops cleaning the ceilings.
That boss lady HATED me. So I quit. Went without a job, making it my mission to keep the apartment clean, food ready for cooking as soon as I got home with Ted from work (he was 20 and hadn't bothered to get his license yet), and get ready for baby. Well, I was set to be induced on a Monday. Ted and myself went to the court house the previous Friday and got married, much at his mother's urges that if we weren't married before the baby came, everyone would see my bundle of joy as a bastard. It was nothing special, nothing stunning or big and fabulous. Just a lady outside City Hall, my love, and myself saying our I Do's. We were treated to a trip to Walmart where his mother bought us both a wedding band as our gift. Among other stuff like some movies and treats...yeah yee haw what a redneck wedding. I was scared. Out of my mind with terror at telling my family I had gotten married. But I did. And mom was so furious, she couldn't talk so handed the phone to dad. And it was literally, "Ted and I got married today." then he said "Okay." and that was the end of the phone call.
Public Service Announcement: DO NOT EVER GET MARRIED. NOT UNLESS YOU HAVE NO DOUBTS IN YOUR FLIPPING MIND THAT IT'S RIGHT. AND EVEN THEN IF YOUR FAMILY SAYS HE'S NO GOOD...DO YOURSELF A FAVOR AND LISTEN TO THEM!
So we left the apartment, in a messy state, on Monday morning. It was 9 months later and I was getting ready to meet my baby boy for the first time. I couldn't even begin to explain the excitement. I remember everything. Going into the hospital, getting hooked up to everything. The epidural, the breaking of my water, which really felt more like I had just gushed pee and wet the bed. Minutes before I started pushing, my husband gets a phone call. It's our landlord from the apartment. They were wondering if we were going to pay our rent for that month. The agreement had been that when we signed the lease, we would get that first month rent free, then the sixth month rent free. Well, the sixth month was that month that we were having the baby. So, Ted pretty much told them to fuck off.
Right in the middle of the pushing process, Ted's mother, Rim, rushed in the delivery room. I had explicitly stated that whoever was in the room was going to stay in the room. No one else goes in or out. Whoever was in, was in. If not, I was going to charge $5 a head. Rim came flying through the door and bless her heart, Peach stopped her. Rim handed Peach a necklace and told her to give it to Ted. Which she did. During a short break from pushing, Ted put the necklace on and resumed as normal. My mother was in the room by my side, Peach was sitting at the foot of the bed with a front row seat, and Ted was on my right.
The necklace, ladies and gentlemen, is a vial on a chain. Nothing more. But inside the vial, there is glitter, and bone fragments and ashes where Ted's sister who had killed herself was cremated and then stored in a glass vial! IS THAT NOT FREAKY AS FUCK TO ANYONE ELSE BESIDES ME?!
After about 45 minutes to maybe an hour, if that long, of pushing, and my son was in the world. Gabriel. He actually has a different name, but for safety, I'm using the name I wanted to give him in the first place. Take that, TED! He was perfectly healthy. Ten fingers, ten toes. Ted was sobbing like a 4 year old who had their Popsicle taken away. There was a point where Ted was about to fist fight with his brother right there in the room after Gabe got here, but it was diffused. But it was all because I didn't want Rim in the room when I was having the baby but I let Peach in.
I ripped from giving birth, was given stitches, and stayed in the hospital for three days after. When we were ready to leave, Rim, in her clawed in my brain way, offered for us to come and stay at their house. That way she could take care of the baby, do all that stuff for me and Ted while I healed and so Ted could get back to working. Seemed like a fabulous idea. I could get my rest before taking on mommy-hood full force, Gabe would be taken care of, and we would have money to pay the bills. But I asked Rim, "What about the apartment? It's a wreck and we really need to go home so we can clean." and she said, "Oh, don't worry about it. I'll take Ted's (still living) sister and we'll go clean it for you guys." Deep breath. Inhale, exhale. Everything was fine, and was going to be taken care of.
Two weeks. I was, unbeknownst to me, held prisoner at their home for two weeks. I didn't have my car. I couldn't go anywhere unless I asked Rim to take me. So I finally called on Peach to come get me. I loaded up the baby and a diaper bag, and went to my parent's house for a few hours. This was the first time, since the day Gabe was born, that they had seen him. Held him. They were instantly in love with him. And spoil the boy to this day. And it's only been 3 years. Peach took me to the apartment and I grabbed my car and drove myself and Gabe back to my prison. But at least this time, I had my own transportation.