justagirlwithastorytotell

[justagirlwithastorytotell]

It’s that much harder when you expect it

The hardest “breakup” of my life came from a “man” that I’d been with for almost 9 years. It was a troubled, steady, simple, complex, abusive, rewarding and down right amazing relationship.

It didn’t come in the form that most people would think. It was the roller coaster relationship with my longest employer. A large world wide hotel chain, the relationship was not with any specific person, but rather with the building and duties itself.

It started back in 2011. I was young and needed a job. My dad has worked for the company for 25 years in another city so I was familiar with the industry. The hotel was finishing a full renovation and starting new. I came on as a banquet server. Long hours, hard work, good money. I got use to it fast. Working 4am-midnight and doing it all over again the next day. Sometimes to the tune of 100+ hours a week.

I had many run ins with the management and the employee handbook. Some for performance or attitude, mainly for time and attendance. I was no stranger to HR and being documented. I had been disciplined by all levels of management, including the Assistant GM & Director of HR. When it got too hot, I’d take some time off and let my tracks cool off.

Five years I was committed to this job. Five long years of being a slave to their music. I needed more. I needed different. I was ready to take another step whichever direction that may have been. I probed into moving to a supervisor but the resentment in my department for my rebellious behavior was a road block to that success.

I applied for an Operations Manager program as a last effort. This would especially side step the supervisor and fast track my career. It seemed exciting. A year rotation through all the departments, departments id never imagined being in and had no experience in. I was excited for the challenge and to learn and grow!

That excitment was short lived. My first rotation was housekeeping. Is never been outside of food and beverage. Never lead a team. The team barely spoke English. I felt lost. Luckily due to lack of leadership in the department, there was so much constant chaos that I was able to sneak up the radar, fight to survive each day and skate out unscathed. A mediocre performance led to a mediocre review. But I had survived.

I rotated to Front Office. Excited to show off my cute clothes and wear heels everyday and be impactful to the guest experience, I showed up eager for the first day. My eagerness was met with antiquated dress standards and a more direct leadership than I was use to. I was always sarcastic and out spoke and it was taken as rude and disrespectful and I again found myself in HR for a conversation about professionalism. I tightened up just enough to stay alive. I endured the long hours and the lack of support that is been accustomed to and pushed ahead.

[justagirlwithastorytotell]

You are stronger than you think

This year started off as the best year ever… kind of. I spent the week before and during the holidays with the man I love, watching him interact with my family and enjoying being in the same space. After a few days in his city, I was thinking that I could do this every day and be with him here. A week of cuddles and laughs and great sex wasn’t enough but we made the best use of the time that we had.

My boyfriend lives on the East Coast with this family and I live in the South near my family. We met at a work conference and a few years later worked out the details and started down this crazy LDR path. We committed to meet as often as possible and to make it work. Love.

I left him on the East Coast and came back to the South to my dog dying. I’m grateful that it happened how it happened but I’m remorseful that I didn’t do more for her. I’ll always love her.

Back to life as usual as we knew it. I was so wrapped up at work the week I got back that I didn’t notice I was missing something. My period! Funny because the day after it was late he casually asked about it, which he’s never done before. We never even talk about my period. Like never. It’s crazy how spiritually connected people can be.

Makes me think back to my ovulation day the last time we were together. I texted my best friend and said oops that same day. I know we should’ve had sex but he pulled out. I wasn’t going to miss out on these limited opportunities to have the ultimate connection with my man. I love sex with him.

He told me don’t worry that it was late it was probably just stress. I made a commitment to take a test if it wasn’t there by the end of the week. Secretly, I already knew the deal. My breasts were sore and the usual pre-period symptoms never came. I bought the test three days before I committed to taking it. It watched me every day.

I woke up Sunday morning scared, nervous, etc. I took the test as planned. Just as I expected. Got back in bed for the rest the day and cried. I sent a picture to my best friend but avoiding her calls all day. He was in church all day so it give me a reason to be distant for the day. My mind was everywhere. How would this affect me. How would this affect him. What would it mean for us? Before we had sex for the first time we talked about what we would do if, so I already knew what he wanted. How could I be so careless and caught in the moment to throw it all away.

It took me three days to tell him. Over a text message. Not how I wanted to tell him. The next day we talked about it briefly and then it all started. :)  He wanted to know what I ate, if I slept well and what I did. He fussed at me for not taking care of the baby. He called just to check on “us.” He’s such a good man.

Morning sickness is for the birds! Every day my breast got more sore and seemingly bigger.

We talked about our future. He wanted to keep it. We talked about making it work and being a family. He’s not crazy about the idea of abortion. I’m just scared. I missed my first actual appointment to confirm, but it’s all part of a plan. I rescheduled with an amazing supportive relatable Doctor. I cried and cried and asked her to double check the results. Both times positive. She gave me a follow up appointment and also referred me to an abortion clinic. This is real.

He arrived to town a few days later. He immediately touched my stomach as soon as he got in the car. My man and my baby. Our family. I can see this.

We cuddled all night and had the best sex in the morning. Literally. The best sex ever. We partied and enjoyed each other. As always, another wonderful weekend over to soon. We talked a lot. The pros and the cons. He’s not for the abortion but he’s supportive.

Back to life as usual while we figure this out. The next thing I know I’m called into HR and fired on the spot. I hold it together until I get to my car and break down. This is too much. Demoted and then fired. The car accident. The store. The Dog. Pregnancy. It’s just too much. Maybe it’s a blessing in disguise. Looking back I realize that I am directly at fault by not speaking up for all of the most recent things in my life and vow to not make those same mistakes twice.

We fuss  more frequently now. He’s very distant about the pregnancy. He engages, but he is short. He’s no longer calling to check on “us” like he had before.

I set the consultation appointment at the clinic. 9 am on February 6. I arrived to be greeted by Pro-Life supporters. Shuffled into a room with no electronics, no sounds or tv and all the other girls lost in their own minds. I pay the receptionist and pee in the cup and wait. And wait. I moved to another room and wait more. Finally the tech calls me to the back. She tells me to fill out the paperwork and get undressed. I expect her to leave while I undress and expected something to cover myself. She was anxiously waiting and provided none of the “comforts” that I expected. Minimal instructions and conversation and she shoves the cold ultra sound wand into my vagina. I look at the screen and see it and listen for a heartbeat. I’m am relieved that it is too small to hear a heartbeat. As I redress I asked for a different doctor because I realize who the doctor is. The tech said he’s the only one. Well. No choice. Blood work and then onto the doctor’s consultation. The doctor was halfway through his rehearsed lines by the time he looked up. Awkward. He and I use to hang out years ago. It was actually comforting to see a familiar face. Even given the circumstances. We talked, he explain the options and answered questions. On the way out, the receptionist gave me the price and the information for the day of. I broke down in the car again. Alone. We committed early on to not tell too many people and not telling our families. That commitment left me with no one to talk to. My man wasn’t around. No one to understand my feelings that I barely understood myself. Pregnant and unemployed facing an expensive procedure.

He seemed annoyed when I want to talk about certain aspects. He says “we already talked about it.” He’s short when it comes to it. I have not 100% made up my mind. He asks about the appointment and the picture. I never show him the ultrasound because I didn’t wanna make him sad and tried to shelter him from the process.

The only thing I knew for sure is that I was pregnant and although I felt alone, as grumpy as he seems, my man was by my side. I feel like I’ve been picking at him. He’s on my nerves and my nerves are getting to me. I try to lay off, we are fussing more. I need more attention and he is needing more alone time to process it all.

The procedure is set for 9 AM on February 17. He comes in town late the night before. He doesn’t touch my stomach when he gets in the car. He’s quiet. When we get home he asked to see the ultrasound and asked a few questions and just sat quietly. I have a bad cold so we have to keep some distance, we barely even sleep close together. We talk the morning more of. I try to have sex to ease my nerves, it doesn’t work, he’s not into it.

My friend picks us up to go to the appointment. He makes one final plea “we don’t have to do this, we can make it work.” Honestly, I know he didn’t want this and I’m not sure I did either. I think and think, he’d be a great father. I’d figured out the mother thing. Our families will help. But we are so far apart and I want to share pregnancy and parenting with my partner. We arrive at the clinic. I’m so scared, both the physical fear of the procedure and emotional fear of what this means for us is overwhelming.

Again, they herd us from room to room. I analyze everyone there. All different ages and races and demographics. Some people have been there for a procedure before. I wonder where all of the men are. The paperwork only ask the father’s age and state. No specifics incase there are none. I couldn’t imagine truly being alone in this all.

Pills and needles to prep for the procedure. I’m half awake and half asleep. The tv in this waiting room is showing a murder series similar to Law & Order. It seems like forever before they call my number to the pre-op room. Paperwork and shots. Enter the procedure room which looks like a regular doctor’s office and kind of like a science classroom. The doctor and two nurses walk in and give a brief explanation. She inserts a shot into my cervix that burns. I hear the suction machine turn on. Everything is blurry from my tears. I feel the doctor stretch open my vagina so she can empty out uterus. I’ve never felt this kind of pain coming from some many different places. I have lost my voice due to my cold so I silently crying out in pain and try to close my legs. The nurses hold them open. I can feel everything. I’m trying to count down with the doctor to know avail. I remember her yelling you have to slow your breathing. All I could think about was his disappointment with me.

Finally it was over, I laid on the table crying from shame and pain. They make me get up even though I could barely move. I walk to the recovery room where myself and another girl are painfully out of it. Less than 10 minutes after the procedure they make me get up and walk to the bathroom to pee and get dressed. It’s all over. They signed me out and returned my phone. I call him to come. He’s on his way. He’s not here yet. I call him again. He seems annoyed. I get in the car and try to act normal. He asked if I’m OK. I lied. He sits on the other side of the car. We get home and I fall sleep on the couch. I wake up and he’s across the room, quiet. We go out later for food and pads. I guess I shouldn’t be embarrassed about that kind of stuff. I turn in early.

We woke the morning after to his phone ringing. He spends an hour and a half talking about work. I wanted him to talk to me. I try to be understanding that he’s trying to take his mind off of it. I want to know how he feels. Are they going to talk to me? Finally he opens up. He says “I feel like I killed my kid.” I immediately break down and I try to justify and express comfort. Minimally heated conversation and we get up to start our day. We grab lunch and then he has to work to do. We are apart most of the day and I just want to be together. We catch up for dinner and enjoy our final hours together. He leaves so early the next morning. He was wearing a very nice suit. He was cute.

I love him and I know that he loves me but this was hard. I wanted to be in his arms. I wanted to let my emotions out and cry with him. Barely 48 hours together for us to healing isn’t enough. I cry the whole way home from the airport like I normally do, except I have to pullover a few times to get it together this time.

Fussing is at an all-time high with us. Every week and something else. I’m dealing with this by needing attention and interaction and support. He deals with it by retreating within himself and wanting alone time. This is not a good dynamic for the situation. Anxiety peaks. This pretend not pretend undiagnosed depression anxiety attacks me. I didn’t think I was fit to raise a kid. That was a huge part of my decision. I could barely take care of my dog.

I continue to prep to move to be closer to him. It takes my mind off of things. We talk about it. I prep my family and friends. I’m in love with the idea of really starting a future with this man. Then it hits me. Mid conversation he says, “before you were the mother of my child, now you’re just my girlfriend.” I’m shocked and hurt. I feel as though I am forever spiritually connected with this man. We created a child in love and although we elected to go an alternate route based on the circumstances, we created something beautiful together. He apologized and clarified but it still stuck with me and stings so deeply.

We continues to plan our future despite the short term hiccups. We are excited for our plans. We’re fussing again, we knew it was going to be tough but damn.

The follow up appointment comes. I walk past the same protestors. I find enough confidence to yell “I’m back bitches” which made everyone else laugh. This is really over. I walk into the same room where the procedure was. I immediately flashback to my experience the time before. I hesitate before I am able to climb back onto the same bed. The ultrasound confirmed that my uterus was empty. This is really over. But was it really over? I think about the what ifs everyday. What if it ruined our relationship. What if I would’ve been more careful. What if we would’ve kept it.

Another stinger, “you already didn’t want to have my child.” These really are painful to me. I propose we take some time off to breath. We talked through it and move on. It’s probably just the distance, the situation, the COVID quarantine. That’s what has us short fused. The plus to quarantine is more interaction. More communication and also more time to think and reflect. I realize how upset I am and how insecure I’ve become. Sometimes valid insecurities and some not so valid. I put on weight. My hips got wider. My small breast got smaller. I think back to him not wanting to have sex the last time he was here. I think back to our conversations become a chore. All these insecurities weigh on me and in turn on our relationship. We commit to dates and things to make our LDR more exciting. We talk about anniversaries. I think about us being together. Living together, eventually. I decide that will get engaged eventually get married on September 16, our kids birthday, as a special memory for us.

These large scale arguments are coming more frequently. We end up in a heated text argument at five in the morning. He reveals that he felt rejected. I never thought of that. I immediately tried to reassure him that that’s not the case. I never tell him I planned our family out time and time again and I enjoy being partners and I’d eventually enjoy being parents with him. We make up, minor fussing.

I finally move the ultrasound from the same spot it was when he put it down that night. He was the last one to look at our child’s picture. It’s forever a part of me and I make a mental note that I want to find a special way to remember it.

After reflecting on his feeling of rejection, I realize his hurt and my hurt were similar but unique and there was not one way for us to cope together. Yet I had been upset with him for not coping how I wanted him to cope.

For the first time in months I saw the signs of a distant period. It was like the first time all over again. I didn’t know what to expect, what products to use, my hormones were crazy and it was a reminder of my journey over the the last three months. Quarantine gave me all the time to think. I tried washing TV to keep my crazy hormonal mind occupied but all the families and babies made it worse. I was grateful that I was not pregnant during this confusion, scared and alone alone. But also scared of the future and not seeing him soon or again. Not knowing when this would end.

After more words and heated text messages, we realized we weren’t happy with the current situation and maybe better apart. We ignored each other for days. I called him because I missed his voice. It was also the first day of what would’ve been our second trimester. The day when morning sickness would end and the dangers of the first trimester would pass and we could make the announcement to everyone. Coincidently, such a joyous occasion was spent in a cold conversation about if and when and where and why this relationship could or should maybe would resume or continue or end or evolve.

Abortion is tough. It’s a lot to deal with every day forever. My biggest fear was losing my identity along with my freedom and my man. All I wanted was to be crazy in love, young wild love, excited for adventures and growing into a lasting relationship. I never signed up for the most emotionally taxing experience of my life.

Abortion is tough. If I knew then what I knew now would I have had one? Would I have kept it? Who knows. There is no one answer that fits for everyone. It’s not easy in any capacity, in any aspect in any way shape or form. I’m 100% sure I would’ve been more careful. I would have reached out for emotional support way sooner and realized that this wasn’t something that I could endure in silence. And I 200% would’ve love my man that much more for standing beside me picking me up and supporting me through a situation that neither of us knew the ramifications of.

Abortion is tough. Remember you are not alone. It is a badge of honor to take charge of your future. It is not a cloak of shame.