The Dark Before the Dawn

It was darkness. I was lost. Wandering through my life just existing, instead of living. Therapy had helped after the abuse of my ex-husband, but really it had only helped me cope with the dark thoughts that had manifested from the things he made me believe for years.

Coming home to America had led me to Tennessee, to watch my grandfather die slowly and painfully, and left me a house. And I had used the last 3 years doing nothing by myself doing nothing useful. I worked and ended up with another loser because of boredom and the need for a project. Ending up with Coy had just been a decision out of pity. He was on drugs and I wanted to try and fix him. Just to see if I could. See if I could help this boy improve his life and it had failed.

And as the nurse at the ER smiled at me, congratulating me in the moment that I found out I was pregnant right after my stomach surgery, all I saw and felt was darkness. "No, it's not possible. I'm not supposed to be able to have children. A doctor told me... told me I couldn't have kids without hormonal help... Please run it again, I don't think I can possibly be pregnant."

Her smile faltered as I demanded she run the test again and she, of course, obliged. But it didn't change the result. I was pregnant, and the poor woman awkwardly patted me on the arm and gave me privacy when I burst into hysterical tears, sobbing into the hospital blanket so hard it was almost violent.

It was the best news of my life. But it was the worst news of my life. A child. An unstable drug addicts child. The child of someone who would throw things, or pull out a gun and shoot at people if he was slightly displeased (not that he would aim at them, he's too much of a coward to actually hurt someone. Going to jail would not bode for someone who only pretends he's tough).

The child of someone who acted like an angry, screaming child because the pain within him ripped him apart every day so he turned to substance and volatile erratic behavior to cope. Not to mention, I had just started seeing someone a few days ago. I didn't know this then, but the person I was seeing would end up being just as bad as my ex-husband and the person I was pregnant by, I guess I had a type back then when I was so damaged. It would be 2 and a half years of hell before I managed to break free of this one. A lot that dealing with a difficult pregnancy and I ended up in the hospital a lot.

I considered keeping the baby a secret. And maybe I should have. But even foul people deserve to know they have a child. And at the end of the day, at the urging of the man I was seeing at the time (even though he was also a foul person in his own ways), I told Coy about the child. And thus began the beginning of a long, long train of obsession from him that I would fight for years to come. If I could go back and redo it, I would run away with the baby, and never let that man have any rights to anything.

And it was the loneliest year of my life. With a man who would use my hospital admission to go and sleep with others and get drugs. No support network, except a few very wonderful work friends who I couldn't impose on, so I kept my darkness to myself. And even that faded away when I got fired because my medical leave ran out while I was in the hospital after having surgery to get my gallbladder removed during my pregnancy.

I remember days laying in my bed. Outside would be sunny and beautiful. But my house would b dark, and I would be curled up in my bed. Feeling like death, and wishing for it. I was so afraid because I couldn't eat, I couldn't drink, and I would throw up every 10 minutes if I tried. I was so sure the baby was going to die. Surely, it couldn't survive the emotional and physical stress my body was under. I was terrified it would starve to death, or come out frail and sickly if it did survive.

I would cry myself to sleep and sleep as long as I could. I would sleep for days. I was a terrible parent already. I couldn't take care of her while she was inside me, how could I take care of her when she was born? I was weak, not only from being sick but from being so pathetic. I hated myself. There was nothing good about me. This poor child has terrible parents. It doesn't stand a chance. If it even survived me being so sick. These are the thoughts that would tear away at my soul for months.

One day, at an appointment when I was far into my second trimester, I asked the doctor when it would be over. I was losing weight, I'd lost over a hundred pounds, and the baby was only in the 3rd percentile of growth within me. I was still weak, and even walking was a struggle because I felt like I would faint or throw up or both every second of every day.

"How long will it take for the baby to starve to death? Will it hurt it?" I was wondering if an abortion would be less cruel than the fetus starving to death inside me. The doctor looked at me in surprise, and you could see the concern on her face.

"What do you mean? This baby is established. It's attached. No, it's not going to starve to death. It's taking from you at this point. You'll die of malnutrition before the baby does... that's why we're going to admit you again. You have ketones in your urine again and your bloodwork shows a serious lack of vitamins. You'll feel better after some fluids and rest."

That was the moment a spark of life ignited in me. The baby was okay? The baby wasn't going to die? It was established? Meaning if I could just...take care of myself, it'll live? I could actually have this baby, and be a mom like I always wanted to do? The numb feeling that had begun to settle into my soul suddenly faded, and panic settled in. I was 6 months pregnant, and I had absolutely NO baby things. I hadn't even tried. I had convinced myself that the baby was going to die, so there wasn't a point.

I had no job because I was so sick I couldn't get out of bed to do anything but pee and vomit most days. I had no one to turn to. I went home with my mind reeling, not sure what I would do. This baby was going to survive, and I had been in the void of depression for so long that I had already been a terrible mother. I was looking at my house, unsure of what to do. I had to get a nursery going. I didn't have a crib, or anything... not even a single outfit.

Then I got an email. It was from the genetic testing company that I had submitted blood samples to. I read the results first: Serious diseases - none. No signs of anything that this baby is going to come out with half of a brain or no brainstem. It was going to come out with the proper amount of toes and brain function. And then it gave me the option of reading the gender. Everyone had assumed I would have a boy. Even the Chinese baby prediction calendar. But I had always known from my soul, that my first child would be a girl.

And when I clicked that link and read that I was correct, and I was indeed carrying a little girl, my heart soared. And for the first time since the moment I found out I was pregnant, I felt real joy. A joy that spread through me like wildfire. It started as a little spark, and soon my whole body was hot. My hands were shaking, I was crying - but not for the same reason I had spent months crying already.

And the only thing I knew is that I needed to call my mom.