Our Baby Girl
I knew he was the one I wanted to marry again and again and again when we were dating. He volunteered to do the dishes after Thanksgiving at his parents' house. He refused to let my mom pay him for house sitting. He holds his baby niece and wrestles his young nephews with all the tenderness of a father. I wanted that for our kids, too.
We got married in June. It was beautiful. We shared our first kiss as a married couple before a pink Montanna sun setting over the big blue mountains. There wasn't a luckier girl in the world.
We had an awkward wedding night where we both sheepishly admitted that we'd get better over time. And we did. Four months into our marriage, I drove to the dollar store and snagged a pink box from the shelf. I could feel my face turning red; I'd never bought a test before. I made sure I handed the item to the cashier with my left hand, so she'd see my ring.
In our apartment, my hands shook so badly, I dropped the first test in the toilet. I hadn't told my husband I suspected anything. I knew he'd be excited, though. Every time we made love, he'd tell me he hoped this one conceived a child. I wasn't disappointed.
When I showed him the faint pink line on the strip, he spun me in a circle. He even teared up when the doctor confirmed the pregnancy. It was perfect.
Six months into the pregnancy, I caught him texting another woman. I only read a few messages over his shoulder before he caught me. But they seemed pretty cut and dried: She couldn't wait to have sex with him again. In October. When he was going on a trip.
Of course, I cried; bawled my eyes out, more appropriately. My husband's first words however at my frame-wracking sobs were, "calm down. Think of the baby." Of course, he was right, I didn't want to lose her. But of all the things to say, why those words?
The truth, or some version of it, tumbled out. He told me that she was someone from high school. He'd done nothing but message her. As for having sex again, he said they hadn't had sex since high school.
Of course, I was angry. Maybe I should have left right there. Instead, I demanded he block her number. I'd forgive him if it really was just a moment of weakness.
"Done." He'd said. I watched him block the number in front of me.
I was too afraid to tell my mom or my friends. They'd overreact. They didn't know him like I did. It was a mistake.
We drifted after that. I still didn't want to speak to him, and he didn't really try to engage with me, either. At some point, he stopped joining me in bed at night. I held out hope, though, that the baby might change everything. Maybe she could fix our relationship.
I was with my mom and my brother when I went into labor. My mom called my husband, but he didn't pick up. She tried to call from my phone, but he didn't answer. So, she sent him a message: Your wife is going into labor.
I gave birth to a healthy girl early the next morning. My husband never came. Rather than my husband holding my knee as I pushed, it was a young nurse. Rather than my husband getting me ice chips and a cool towel, it was some young volunteer. I held our new child alone in the hospital for two days and he never came.
My brother confirmed that he wasn't at our house, so I let my parents take me to their house. It felt wrong laying in my childhood bed holding a screaming little girl and wondering where my husband had gone. I wish I'd never found out.
The day I was pushing a human child from my body, he was filing for divorce and full custody of our baby girl. Three days postpartum, and I had a legal battle on my hands for the infant wailing on my chest.
My father called his lawyer friends for advice. My mom called everyone she knew to pray that I'd get to keep my baby. Generally, the Montanna courts favor women. So, despite having no income, I won full custody of my baby. He got the house, but I'd never be able to keep it alone. I moved back into my parents' house.
The secret got out of how the whole mess transpired. The woman he'd cheated with, had never been a fling. When they found out she was infertile, they launched a plan for him to have a child with someone else and gain full custody in court. He'd spent our marriage financially isolating me and doing whatever he could to set me up to fail. If it weren't for my parents, he would have won.
My baby is almost two years old now. Mercifully, she looks just like me. I still see her father on occasion at the grocery store or in passing at the park. The restraining order keeps him far, but not far enough. He watches from a distance. He's tried to bring the custody battle back to the courts, but his case was thrown out.
My curly haired beauty hasn't asked about her father yet. She hasn't connected that her uncle and I have a dad, or that all her playmates have daddies. I'm not sure what I'll tell her. Until then, I'll keep looking for that shadow that lurks 100 yards away.