Warning: this could be long. - but this is something I need to get off my chest.
I am Amanda. I am 17, and I am pregnant.
Today I am 39 weeks and 4 days pregnant. Hopefully this baby decides to make her appearance on time. :::crosses my fingers:::
Let me take you back really quick, maybe 4 years ago? Sound good. Good.
Dad and mom were constantly fighting. His gambling was only getting worse. He was becoming a different person, nobody knew him anymore. He moved out, or did mom get sick of the bullshit and kick him out? I'm not too sure, either way he moved out. Stayed with a friend for a while until he got involved with a 20 something year old bimbo. I figured it all out. That he moved in with her and never told any of us. Gambling only got worse from there. I spilled the beans on his 'new life' and things only got worse from there. Four years later I had fallen into a deep depression.
I was beginning to get rebellious. I hated the way everything was. I hated how my mother knew about his little fling with this chick and still never proceeded to divorce him. I thought, why the hell is this woman so stupid? I just never could fathom the whole situation, waiting for your husband to up and leave his 20 something year old girlfriend and stop gambling to come home after three years dealing with it? It didn't make sense.
August of 2008 I met Javier. Was everything I ever dreamed of finding in a person. Great looking, kindhearted, passionate, hell I'll even throw his Latino heritage in there too. He literally swept me off my feet, as gay as that sounds. I fell madly, deeply, & very quickly. Before I knew it he was the center of my world. I had finally found somebody I could hold onto, possibly never letting go. He was 20 at the time and I was 16, Javier already had two other kids from two different women. It didn't matter to me though, I was already in love.
By late September, I wasn't going to school. I kept skipping to hang out with friends. I was rebellious -- I was 16. I wasn't listening to my parents, I thought that everything that came out of their mouths was not worth listening to. Because seriously, who would listen to them after the kind of example they were setting for me and my younger sister?
Javier needed a place to stay. His roommates were kicking him out, till this day I don't know the whole story. Just that it was over some bullshit. I couldn't live with myself knowing he is on the streets. I asked my parents if he could stay in our downstairs family room until he figured something out. They said no of course, which really set me off.
September 29, 2008 I was at my wits end. My dad came over that morning to ask why I didn't go to school. Mainly it was because they wouldn't let him live with us, but I was just already so upset with everything I was holding inside from 4 years worth of damage. That day I ended up loosing it. I slit my wrist in front of my dad, just so he would shut up. I was sent to Butler Hospital for about 2 and a half weeks.
I got out and Javier was still there. Soon after I was discharged Javier was let into my home, mostly because my parents feared that if they didn't let him stay with us I would only end up back in Butler.
Things were good, almost perfect for me and Javier. I was so much in love. Like I cannot even explain it. I could not get enough.
February 2009 came around, that is when Javier suspected I was pregnant. I didn't think it was possible. I had my mind set on the whole 'I'm invincible because I am 16 years old and that could never happen to ME.' Boy was I wrong. February 6, 2009 is when we found out I was indeed pregnant.
After that, I think, is when things started to go downhill. Javier was going out more with his friend Jaimie. Who is a girl. More like a beast of a girl, but in none the less a girl. They called themselves brother and sister, they were best friends. I honestly don't care what you call her Javier, I am a hormonal jealous crazy pregnant 17 year old and just calling her your sister didn't mean shit to me. Suddenly I was not cool anymore because I was pregnant. I stopped smoking cigarettes and weed once I found out. I didn't want to endanger our baby. So I was mostly left home alone now, while he went out whenever he pleased.
After St. Patrick's Day, I was in for a big surprise. Javier became abusive one day. Why? Who the hell knows, maybe because I was too bitchy. Too bad, I'm pregnant now I can be as big of a bitch as I want to you, especially because YOU aren't living up to your responsibilities as becoming a parent to a THIRD child. You didn't belong out partying sweetie. You're 21 now, have your third kid of the way, and work part-time at Subway, you don't deserve a night out.. every.single.night.
I stayed of course. Cause I love him & not only that, I was pregnant. What else could I do? -- OH yes, that's right leave. But I didn't, I stayed, giving him the benefit of the doubt. Things only got worse, not that he was hitting me everyday, cause he wasn't. Just so much stress and arguing and him being out all the time. All I wanted was for him to be home with me, is that so bad?
April came around, he hit me again. I stayed ... again. Somehow before we knew it, we were broken up because he didn't come home one night. & that wasn't the first time, but that night I had had enough. I threw all his shit on Jaimie's front lawn and told him when he wants to learn how to be a responsible father that he knows where my house is. -- Weeks went by and we were right back to where we started. Everything has cooled down. As a matter of fact, we had airline tickets to Puerto Rico. Yeah, we moved to Puerto Rico.
Javier had a way of painting this Beautiful picture in my head. Puerto Rico is so much better than the United States. Don't get me wrong I loved Puerto Rico, just not the part where we actually lived. He was going to get a full-time job, we were going to be set. Once we got settled in, the only thing we achieved was getting free health insurance, and him smoking about 18 blunts a day. Back to the beginning, once again.
I started to miss home. I had never been away from home before, it was hard. Javier was the only person who spoke English. None of his family could talk to me really, expect his stepmother who spoke very broken English. All I needed from Javier was comfort. Instead I was not only hit this time, I was beaten. I was walking down the street and he was going the other way because we were fighting. All of a sudden 5 minutes down the road, rocks are being flung by me. I look behind me and it's him running 60 mph. He was literally beating me on the streets, the first person I saw driving our way I ran in the middle of the street. Only to get pulled back by my hair to the ground, "This isn't Rhode Island anymore Amanda." -- People did not care, they just looked the other way to that stuff.
He beat me one last time, about 2 weeks later. I was locked inside the house with no way of getting out. Windows are different there, they kind of resemble blinds .. to open them you pull down and if you want them up, pull up. The front door has no door knob, just a keypad, which you need the keys for. He had the set of keys that we shared. He locked me inside our room first, so he could hide all of the phones. Then let me at least roam the house. Told me to pack my bags cause I was going home tomorrow ... if I even made it to the next day. He left, I packed. I looked through the WHOLE house to find a damn phone. I finally found one and called his stepmother and explained what happened. Javier's father came right over to get me out.
I left the next day without Javier even knowing. It was hard. I didn't want to suffer a broken heart, I didn't want to be without him. I loved him, and I don't know why.
I was home, I was safe, but I was sad. I mean, I had everything I needed at home. A nice clean stable place to live, a family most people would kill to have for, and all the support I needed to get by. I needed to get help, so I got a therapist. Boy has she helped me! She gave me motivation to do everything. I got my GED. Applied for WIC and health insurance. Starting looking into college. Everything. My life got back on track.
I didn't call Javier, as much as I wanted to, I didn't. This time he needed to let it sink in, everything he did. So while I got my life back together, he was sitting and stewing about the whole thing. I kept telling myself that if loved me, he would do something about it.
Two and a half months after I got back, he called out of nowhere. First to ask how I was doing. Then texted me 15 minutes later to ask if I could call back once more. I did. He apologized for everything, took FULL responsibility this time. Usually he would let me take half the blame for everything, not this time.
Weeks went by and we kept talking. Things were looking good. All I prayed for was that he would get his shit together. All I wanted still was our happy family. Me, Javier & soon to be Mia Allison. At this point, who knows what could happen? I believe in my heart that people can change, no matter how low or bad something is or was. Change is possible. I hope for Javier's sake, he can get his life together. So we can be together again.
My one and only wish for that situation is that it would work out between us. Hopefully God can hear me when I pray at night, because that is all I want. I want to see things get better for him. I hope the best for him. I hope the best for me.
I have come to the conclusion that maybe it will work out. Maybe we both need to grow. And maybe we can only grow while being apart from each other, because when we tried to grow together, it only failed. I don't know what happened to Javier down the road, I do still love him. & maybe that is a crime to some people because of what he did to me, what he did to Mia.
I believe that he could change. Maybe he's starting to. Hopefully. But as for now I need what is best for Mia. & that is to stay away and let him stew on it. If I was to go crawling back now, it would be too easy for him. He needs to work at it. He might have started to change, but he's not changed yet.
I only hope that things can work out.