The Fourteen Years War - 1996 - Volume I

I finally had to tell my parents in mid-January that I was pregnant with their first grandchild. Oh, the humanity! Jeff and Lo were still together and Jeff and I were seeing less and less of each other. I remember going to the bar once to see AZ when I was pretty far along. I remember he frowned at me for smoking a cigarette. For the most part though, I didn’t have much to say to AZ. I was too busy dealing with Jeff. I felt lucky that T-Bird had come into my life. In February or March, I had the ultrasound that would show what we were having and true to form, it was a boy. Jeff did go with me to find out and when I looked at the monitor and saw Nate’s face the first time, I told Jeff in elevator afterwards, “He looks just like you.” Jeff didn’t have much to say. Most of the time, I was dealing with my family, and dealing with the fact that Jeff called more than he saw me, and never touched me. It was a very lonely time. I had virtually no support but T-Bird and my co-workers. I didn’t have much to say to AZ because although I felt trapped in my relationship with Jeff, felt that I should stay with him, felt that I should stay with the father of my child, felt that I should make everything okay, I missed him terribly. I also regretted a lot of things and those who mattered most, my family and Jeff, made me feel as though I was damaged goods. On May 4th, Jeff called me late at night, around 11:30. His shift commander had confronted him about me and my pregnancy. Jeff denied the child I was carrying was his so he decided he would call and tell me about it. I cried and cried and cried after we got off the phone. Heaping, wailing sobs for at least two or three hours. I still got up the next morning and went to work. Around 11:00 I started feeling uncomfortable. My Braxton-Hicks contractions were picking up, or so I thought, until I started timing them. I didn’t feel anything if I stood up and walked around but sitting down, I was starting to feel a burn. I called my OB’s office, which was just a street over. They told me to come in for a check. Once they got Nate settled down enough and got the monitor on me correctly, my contractions were three minutes apart. I called T-Bird and she came to pick me up. We went to the hospital where I called Jeff. He didn’t offer to show up. I was dehydrated and had a bladder infection. They shot me up with antibiotics, fluids, and that crazy icy stuff that stops your contractions. My doctor came in later and checked my cervix (can I begin to tell you how gentle he is) and pronounced me fit as a fiddle or closed, which is better. I still had some residual contractions and took a day off from work and then a half a day. Worse, I laid in bed at night and wished Jeff away. I wished AZ was the father of my son. After May 5th, it just got worse. I looked at myself in the mirror and said, “AZ would have been there. He would have been there for you and his son.” After all the writing I’ve done and remembering, I probably wasn’t far off the mark. It got me through.