I am back. Had a fantastic family vacation, then a bit of work stuff to take care of.

On to the good stuff…dating.

I decided it was time I could look at dating again. I went to church and lo and behold, I meet this guy, Charles. He seemed like a great guy. Actually he was. Good LDS guy. We quickly started to get serious. I really liked him. He was divorced. His wife had an affair and got pregnant by the other man. Come to find out Charles didn’t know the child was not his until 2 years into the child’s life. I felt for him. It was a terrible thing to have to go through. He got a divorce, and hadn’t seen the baby since the divorce. He wasn’t able to unless he paid child support. You see, in UT, if you are legally married, the child is legally yours, even if biologically it isn’t. He didn’t trust that his ex would use the money to take care of the child, so wouldn’t pay it. It was a really sad situation.

I hadn’t told him about my past. I was afraid to. I was ashamed to. I liked what we had, and didn’t want to lose him. After a couple months. I decided I needed to suck it up and tell him. If I wanted this relationship to go anywhere he would have to find out sooner or later. So, one evening, I opened up to him and told him about all 3 pregnancies. He seemed understanding. He seemed to accept it. He told me he was OK with it. Only later did I realize that he really wasn’t.

Things got a little weird after that. He seemed distant. Not in a bad way, but in a way he hadn’t been before. I was nervous. I tried to brush it off. I had a trip coming up for a friends wedding, and I figured getting away for a couple days would be good for us.

I wasn’t even sure we wanted the same things. He wanted a temple wedding, I wasn’t sure I did. I was having a hard time jumping full into church, so I was still on the fence about things. I was still partying a little, not a lot, but some. That would have to change if we ever wanted things to go anywhere.

On the night before the wedding I was out with a couple old friends. I ran into a guy I had had a crush in high school. I had to stop him and confess my high school crush to him. Apparently he was interested. He stopped and we started talking. Funny thing, for the life of me, I couldn’t remember his name. One of those things where you know it, but draw a blank. I felt like a total jerk. We started talking, and spent the rest of the evening talking and reconnecting. I told him I wasn’t looking for a relationship, to get married, or to do the long distance thing. I also decided that I wasn’t going to risk anything, and told him about my past right up front. (Subconsciously I must have wanted something, otherwise why would I have told him about my past). His only response “That is why we have the power of forgiveness”. I must have known then, again subconsciously.

We spent the entire weekend together. Even going to the wedding together. My parents came up for the wedding. They weren’t thrilled about my choice of date. They still loved Charles back home and wanted me to marry him.

I went with him (Rich) to his parents house one morning for breakfast. He introduced me to his mother and told her I was the girl he was going to marry. Her response was “Yeah Right”. Literally, it was actually kind of funny. When I left to go back home, he told me he was going to come visit me in 2 weeks. I said “Yeah Right”.

When I got back home Charles and I had the talk. I told him it wasn’t working. Things had not gotten better, in fact they had gotten worse. He was even more distant and didn’t even believe me when I told him I was going to work. He had serious trust issues. We broke up.

My mom was angry. She thought I broke up because of Rich. Maybe I did a little, but it was also because deep down I knew he wasn’t OK with my past. Once I explained that to her, she seemed OK with it, though she still wasn’t thrilled about Rich.

Later on Charles and I were emailing back and forth, and he admitted he was having a hard time with my past. He couldn’t understand how someone would not step up and be a father. He was holding that against me. There was nothing I could do to force someone to be a father. But, I also told him, he kind of did the same thing. He refused to pay his ex child support and therefore could no longer see his 2 year old son. We all have done things we regret, but it is how we learn from them that matters. That was really the end of that. From what I hear he is remarried with 2 or 3 children now. I am genuinely happy for him.

So 2 weeks later came, and Rich came to visit. Turned out to be a fantastic weekend. When it ended and he left, I was up stairs crying. We had been talking daily since I met him. That was all we had. We couldn’t see each other whenever we wanted, so we did that. We knew basically everything about each other.

My Dad says that he knew when Rich left that weekend that we would get married. Though he never told me that.

10 months later we did get married.



I am really getting bad at posting. This new job is making it more difficult. Well, better get caught up!

So back to the story.

I signed my relinquishment papers at the hospital just before getting release. I didn’t tell George. When we went home, I told him I was leaving and my mom was taking me home. I needed more time with my baby. So I actually got a hotel room to have some one on one time with him. My mom dropped me off, and got me all settled. I was alone with my baby. I savored every second of it. No one to share him with, just me and him. I took pictures, and just snuggled him.

George wanted me to go see him and bring the baby. He didn’t understand that I had just had major surgery, and wasn’t about to drive out to see him. He was angry. His mother was angry, they started calling me incessantly. I left him a VM and told him about the placement and that I intended to do it that weekend.

At the advise of my counselor I turned my phone off. People that needed to get in touch with me knew where I was. I didn’t want him ruining my last few moments with my baby. I am sure people will be angry with me for not letting him have more time, but I had to do it that way. He was very volatile, and I never knew what he was going to do. I didn’t want to risk anything, my baby’s safety included.

Come Sat afternoon, I was a little lonely by myself and it seemed to be making things harder. Placement wasn’t until Sunday, so I called my Mom and she came and got me. We spend Saturday afternoon at home loving on my baby for the last time.

Sunday came. We went to placement. This placement was completely different than all the others. I had been through enough. I was still angry, and still didn’t want to go through with it. Deep down I knew I needed to do it, but that didn’t make it any easier.

I remember the actual placement. I placed him and then got a hug and had to leave. I didn’t linger. I left and lost it. I was in pieces. I felt like the remainder of my heart had just been ripped out.

I was bitter, I was angry, and I was hurt. I had lost my only chance at being a mother.

I remember driving down the road a few days later, and just staring out the window hating everyone around me. I didn’t want comfort from any of my family, friends, anyone. I wanted the darkness I felt inside to go away. I was in a very, very bad place. my heart was black. I can vividly remember the anger I felt. The darkness inside me was real. There was no love.

It took me a long time to get over that. I decided to get back to the gym. I started working out. That really seemed to help. I lost all the baby weight and then some. But I also wasn’t really eating much. I was borderline anorexic.

I slowly tried to get back out there. Be with friends, and maybe even start trying to date.

All the while, George was trying to pull all the cards he had, not knowing that I held more than he did. He told me he wanted all the baby stuff I had back. I told him I would be happy to give it back to him, but I wanted all the house stuff or payment for keeping the house stuff. It seemed to shut him up really quickly.

Remember I was still on title for his car. I decided to not be a jerk, I sent him a bill of sale, and the title signed over to him, then cancelled registration on it. Didn’t want it in my name. I was also the one that had gotten the satellite TV. So, I called them up and suspended the account to shut it off. Poor guy didn’t have TV anymore.

He called me one day telling me he needed my address so his attorney could serve me papers for illegally placing my baby. I kind of freaked out. I started to give it to him. My mom stopped me, and told me to call my councilor. I called her, she told me to under no circumstances give it to him. If his attorney couldn’t find me, then he could call me and get it. So I called him back and told him that. He wasn’t happy. I think he was just going to try to come to the house and harass me. See he had no idea where my parents lived, and they weren’t listed in the phone book. That was one of the best things that could happen to me. He couldn’t find me. All he knew was that I lived up north.

About 3 months after placement, his mother texted me and asked for pictures. I told her I would put a CD together and send it to her. The next day my councilor called me saying that someone had called the company attorney and said that a baby was illegally placed for adoption and gave the date of my adoption. They knew exactly who it was. It was George’s mother. I decided to send her a picture, as well as a letter telling her and George that I would no longer be contacting then, and I expected the same in return.

I am happy to announce that almost 9 years later, and I still haven’t heard a word from them!

Next up….Dating….

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.

He is here

George’s family was over the moon excited for this baby to come. His mother wanted to throw me a baby shower. I was pretty excited about it (when it first came up, I was planning on keeping him). I was working to put a list of people to invite. It was difficult. I went to my mom and asked her about it. She gave me the most devastating news I had ever heard come from her mouth. She told me she wouldn’t attend. She didn’t agree with it, and didn’t think we should be celebrating. I was heartbroken. Felt betrayed. I thought for sure my mom would at least support me, and be there for me. I knew our relationship was strained, but I didn’t know it had gotten this bad.

I couldn’t stand to even look at her anymore. I wanted nothing to do with my family. My grandmother was the only one I could still bare to look at and be around, and even she was vocal about her opinion (which wasn’t in line with mine).

When I told my mom I wasn’t keeping him, it made it even worse. It felt like it was a contest and she had won. I felt she was doing a dance on the other end of the phone because I was placing him. Because she didn’t want him, and didn’t want anything to do with him, and now she wouldn’t have to “deal” with it anymore.

Shortly after I changed my mind, I told Georges mother I wasn’t going to have a baby shower. I appreciated the thought, but didn’t want to have one. She was very angry with me. She didn’t understand why I didn’t want one. But after having a fit, agreed to let it go.

After telling my parents my new plan, my mom seemed to turn around. She was nice to me, wanted to be around me and wanted to be there for me. I however, was still angry with her and wanted nothing to do with her.

I told her that I needed to let George be in the hospital room with me while I gave birth. I had to have a C-Section due to my previous deliveries). I didn’t want George to freak out if I didn’t allow him in there. I was trying to appease him. I did however give her a bracelet so she could get into the nursery to see him. She was there for the other births, and she wasn’t very happy about me choosing George over her.

The day was here, he was here. I had him with no pain meds aside from the epidural. I am allergic to morphine so the Dr. opted to not give me anything. Man that sucked! I was dry heaving the entire time, and couldn’t make it stop. It was very draining. I was exhausted.

He was beautiful, perfect, everything I had hoped for. Except he wasn’t mine.


P.S. You should read the comment left by my Dad for his view.

The next 6 months

I moved back in with my parents. Who were at the time, building a house, so were living with family. There were a lot of us under one roof, and I needed space.

I got a second job so I could afford to take care of my child. I couldn’t count on George. I couldn’t count on anyone but myself. If there was one thing I learned it was that I was the only one I could count on.

I was working nights doing data entry and days for a phone company. Needless to say I was tired. Not getting much sleep and stressed to the max. I wasn’t eating enough. George was constantly berating me, making me feel guilty for not giving him money anymore (George’s ATM was closed, I needed to save what I had for when the baby came). I was trying to keep him happy and keep my sanity.

My Dad and brother went with me one weekend to pick up my bed. George had found a stroller somewhere and wanted me to take that as well (It looked like it was from 1970, so I am sure didn’t meet current regulations). I think my Dad had a harder time not saying what he felt to George that day. I was walking on eggshells around both of them.

By this time I had accumulated quite a bit of baby clothes and necessities, including a crib. George’s mother had given me quite a bit of stuff, that she got from a friend. I had boxes and boxes of clothes and blankets.

We didn’t take the stroller. I found out when we got home I had dropped my phone in the parking lot of the apartment complex. They called and we planned to go out on Monday to get it. I didn’t want to drive back that far that day. George was trying to get a hold of me all weekend. When I didn’t respond to his texts or voice mails, he became irate. Leaving me nasty messages, yelling at me. You name it he probably said it.

I picked up my phone and found a dozen or so texts and voice mails from him. I called him back when I got home. Apparently that wasn’t good enough. I should have come to see him while I was there. I didn’t want to see him. I was starting to see him for what he truly was, and I didn’t want to be around him. My sanity couldn’t be around him. I couldn’t deal with him yelling at me anymore.

I don’t know what my turning point was. Maybe it was that weekend, and how he treated me because I dropped my phone. Maybe being away from him did it. But I saw it. I saw how he was treating me. I saw our relationship from the outside in, how everyone else saw it. I saw how it wasn’t right. The hard part, was I still cared about him. He was still the father of my child. I was being torn in two directions.

George was supposed to spend Christmas with his Dad out of state. He called me on Christmas day saying he was coming back and needed me to pick him up and then I needed to go spend Christmas with him and his Mom. I was so worried about keeping the peace (and secretly still wanted this to work), I ditched my family on Christmas and went to spend it with his family. I knew I should have stayed with my family, but I was angry at them. I was angry they weren’t supporting my decisions, and weren’t overjoyed about my pregnancy. I just wanted them to be happy for me. But how could they? I was unwed and pregnant and with a guy that was verbally abusive. A guy that told me he didn’t want to be with me, but wanted the child I was carrying. Didn’t want anything to do with me, just my child. A guy that I was trying desperately to hang on to, but was running in the other direction spewing profanities along the way.

I was still allowing him to come to my doctor visits. On one such occasion we were in the room waiting for the Dr. He started cussing and yelling at me, calling me a bitch, asshole, whatever you can imagine he was saying it. I was done, I was in tears. I was tired of him talking to me that way. I told him he needed to stop now, I wasn’t going to put up with it. I reminded him that this was my Dr. and my appointment. I could easily reach my head out the door and have the nurse call security and have him escorted out. That seemed to work, because he stopped after that.

On another occasion I brought my Mom with me to an appointment. George showed up too. After we left he texted me telling me I was an awful person, and it was messed up for me to bring my Mom to an appointment with me. I am not sure how bringing my Mom makes me an awful person. But apparently it did.

This continued. I tried to keep him happy while trying to keep my sanity. It was very difficult. I was under the recommend weight gain for a pregnancy. And Dr. said I had to gain more weight before I could have the baby. I was trying, but it was near impossible.

I was reaching my breaking point. I was talking to my best friend one night at work. She told me that no matter what happens after the baby is born do not go back to George. She said he will try to get back together. He will tell you he was wrong. He will say he wants to be a family. She told me no matter what, I need to stick to my guns and not get back together with him. I don’t remember if I ever told her this, but I was certain, if he asked to start over, I would do it in a heartbeat. If he decided that he did want this family, I would jump at the chance. I was that committed to making a family for my child that I would make it with someone like him.

This was what I did for the next six months. The constant back and forth, the constant stress. The constant heartache. I have no idea how I made it through all of that.

Moving In

It was time. Our apartment was ready for us. I got all my stuff out of storage, and packed up what was not in storage. George and some of our friends helped us move. I was over the moon excited. This was it. We were going to be happy. We were going to be a family. Everything was going to be perfect!

After we got everything into the house, I started to unpack and put everything away. George was working nights, so was gone most nights until around midnight. So I had a lot of time on my own. I went shopping for the house, but dishes, bathroom essentials, silverware. You name it, what we didn’t already have I went out and purchased. I was going to make this the best little home and family ever!

We didn’t have a TV, and George wanted the biggest best TV he could get. Though he couldn’t finance one because he had terrible credit (jail and not paying bills will do that to you). Me being the good girlfriend I was let him use my credit to purchase it. (I know super smart right). I now have a TV of his in my name, a car of his in my name and the cable, and utilities are in my name.

The first night in our apartment George didn’t come home. The next morning I got up, got ready for work and off I went. Not knowing what was going on with George. We talked for a bit, he told me he was really busy at work and ended up just staying there. OK, that seemed odd to me, but whatever. (Who spends the night at work anyway)

After I got off work I saw George for just a few minutes before he went to work for the evening. We exchanged pleasantries and off he went.  I continued to move our stuff in, put everything away and clean the apartment.

That night I was laying in bed waiting for George to come home. Wondering if he would, playing every scenario of what he could be doing in my head. He said he would be home. Then, the flutter came. I felt it. You know the flutter. That first movement of the child in your belly. The first signs that there really is a human in your stomach. A time when most women are overjoyed, I was in tears. I wanted George to experience that with me. All I could do was text him and tell him I felt the baby move. His response reassured me a little. He told me that I had no idea how happy that made him. Maybe I was overreacting, maybe he really was busy the night before and ended up staying there.

The next morning I woke up and George was nowhere to be found. When I asked him, he again had the same excuse. He was busy at work and stayed there.

Now, I was starting to get really angry. What was going on. Was he hiding something, did he not want to be near me? Did he not want to move in with me? Why the Hell would he allow us to actually move into the apartment if he didn’t want to move in with me?

This went on for one more night. I was devastated. I called my parents. I had been trying to put on the face that everything was alright. I think they knew better. They got me a hotel room for the night, and told me the best thing to do would be to move out of our apartment. I wasn’t sure I was ready for that, so we stuck with the hotel for the night.

I cried myself to sleep in that hotel room all by myself that night.

The next morning I realize it was time. Moving in with George was a terrible idea. When I confronted him, he told me he never wanted to move in with me (did I mention this was ALL his idea). I was furious, why would he do this if he didn’t want to move in? I told him I was moving out. Our time in the apartment lasted exactly 3 days and he wasn’t there for any of it.

My mom came and helped me pack my stuff. I packed my clothes and a few boxes, I couldn’t dare take any of the stuff I put in the apartment because I didn’t want to leave George with nothing. My mom convinced me to take a few things. I did. Even after all George had already done, I didn’t want to leave him high and dry. I still cared for him, he was the father of my unborn child.

We loaded my moms car with what we could. I told George I would be back for my bed later. I couldn’t take it right now. My mom managed to not say anything remotely close to how she was feeling to George, though I know on the inside she was seething mad at him. Their only interactions were fairly pleasant. I think at this point, my mom didn’t want to rock the boat.

He was fine with all of this. Me on the other hand was crying myself to sleep on a nightly basis.


It has been a very busy couple weeks with work and my personal life. Sorry to keep you hanging for so long. I will try to be better.

After my last post, I had a talk with my Dad. He mentioned how he remembered finding out about my 3rd pregnancy and how he remembers his reactions completely different than what I posted. Mostly that I downplayed his reaction. He told me I can tell it like it was. And he was furious. So furious in fact, he punched a hole in a wall. Mind you, I had never once heard my Dad yell. Apparently he had yelled at my older brother once or twice, but I wasn’t around to hear it. He yelled at me. He doesn’t get angry. And for those that know him, know he isn’t a yeller. He is a thinker and a discusser. Not a yeller. I was scared he would never want to talk to me again. Never want anything to do with me again.

I am happy to say, He hasn’t yelled at me since. He hasn’t lost his temper towards me since. He is very good at keeping control, but apparently I knew how to make him lose his temper. I try very hard to not do it anymore.

So back to the story.

George and I found a one bedroom apartment. We had our lease signed. I felt I finally had a home and was excited to finally have a place to call ours. In my perverse bubble we were going to live happily ever after. He was going to change and be around and responsible. And we would have our baby. Moving day was around the corner.

George took me to a small party with some of his friends one evening (in a run down house in a bad part of town). Everyone there was drinking and having a good time. I of course was not. So George had his designated driver. One of the party goers pulled out some mushrooms. Everyone started taking them, again, except me. I was stone cold sober in a room full of drunk and high people. Loads of fun. George was finally ready to leave (after what seemed like 123 hours), I couldn’t be happier to get out of that place. Not the type of people I like to hang around. There was something about this group of people that had me uneasy. Even with all the bad decisions I made, I still had my instincts.

Later George told me that he took me to that party as a test. A test to see how I would react to him doing those sorts of things. I have nothing against people that choose to do that stuff. I have smoked marijuana before. But I have never gone beyond that. I was always too scared to experiment (apparently the D.A.R.E program in elementary school really did teach me something). I wasn’t going to tell George what he could and couldn’t do. I am not that kind of person. That is what he was trying to see, if he could push the limits on what I would do for him. In this case, hang out at a party while he drank and did mushrooms, all while ensuring he had a safe way home.

Good times.