DS2 is 13 tomorrow. As is common, I'm reflecting on his actual birth.
Even on the day I was in labour my ex made it all about himself and wanted to go bike shopping. I had to go with him as we only had one car.
He did finally agree to head home (where my sister who was to be my birth partner) was waiting with DS1 when the chap in the bike shop asked if I wanted to sit down during a contraction.
I was dreading that I might need a section. Not so much for the actual procedure, but that it would mean I wouldn't be up and back on my feet straight away.
DS2 arrived. My sister was amazing. The birth went smoothly and was a positive experience. They asked if I wanted to go home straight away. It was 11pm so I asked if I could stay one night. There was no room on the ward so I got a single room where DS and I spent a lovely first night together.
Ex was late to collect me the next day; it was embarrassing when they clearly needed the room.
Went home and straight out to do school run for DS1. I wet myself on the way back. I also had people amazed and impressed that I was up and out. It wasn't amazing or impressive - I wanted to be at home. I didn't tell anyone that.
At the time I was not ready (and not really in a position with a newborn) to accept how abusive he was. It took me a further 5 years to start divorce proceeding, and then 2 years of utter hell before he moved out.
That was 5 years ago and here we are. DS1 has left home, so it's just me and DS2. It's not easy, but we are HAPPY. Our home is a happy place, with music, laughter, visitors. Not an eggshell in sight!
DS2 doesn't see his Dad at all. I will bear the brunt of DS's hurt when his Dad doesn't even send him a card. I cannot begin to understand how it must feel to have one of the people who are meant to love you the most completely cut you off.
That's it. It's good to write to down.