The hospital

My hospital stay was very eventful. My mom spent most of her time with me. She wanted to support me and be with me. However, I still had to allow George and his family time to see the baby. I didn’t want to ruffle any feathers.

One such time, George’s mother was visiting at the same time my mom was there. She started going on about how there is nothing wrong with her family, and that she has great kids who are great examples and my mom was a terrible person for whatever reason. I have tried to block most of this out of my memory, and for good reason. The main thing I remember was the feeling I had. I had never in my life been so angry to the point of telling her to shut the hell up and get out. I opened my mouth to say it, she must have sensed it or something, because she ended the conversation berating my mom (even if I was angry at my mom, that is still not OK) and then shortly after left.

If you remember back a few posts I talked about a conversation I had with my best friend where she told me that no matter what, when George brought up getting back together (and once the baby was here he would) I cannot get back together with him. At the time, that was wishful thinking for me. I would give anything for him to want to get back together with me.

The time finally came. It was about 2:00 in the morning. George had come to the hospital to see the baby. The nurse happened to come in to take my vitals and mentioned that he was there. I told her he could come in if he wanted to. He chose to come in for a few minutes. It was there that he said he wanted to try to work on our relationship. He wanted me and the baby to come back to the apartment. He wanted it to work.

By this time, I could hardly stand the sight of his face, let alone entertain getting back together. I didn’t want to be a total jerk. I told him I would have to think about it. I wasn’t sure it was going to work between us.

I never thought this day would happen. I never believed that he would actually want to get back together with me. I am thankful it took as long as it did for him to consider that, and bring it up to me. Had it happened sooner, I would have jumped at the chance and been miserable all over again. I would have had a repeat of the first time we moved in together. It wouldn’t have lasted longer than a week.

It was getting close to going home. My case worker came to my room so we could sign relinquishment papers. I got everything all signed and she went on her way. By this time I was numb to the process. I had been through it twice before. I had shut out my emotions. I wasn’t allowing anyone near me, and I wasn’t allowing anything to come out.

My discharge day came. I wasn’t ready to place yet. I needed more time with my baby. So I got a hotel room for the weekend to have some one on one time with him.

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