Oh boy it's a boy

I’m not sure how I overcame the trauma of that honeymoon. It could have been worse though, I wasn’t overweight then like I am nowadays. My God if they strip searched me now it would have taken days. Naked, I resemble a bald, overweight shar-pei. They would have had to lay out markers so as not to go over the same area twice. Thank God for small favors.

But home we were safe and sound. Our little love nest was a modest house set behind the master house not three blocks from where my parents lived. That tuned out to be a Godsend. This is where I discovered one of my first quirks.

If Gary was home and I had to pee, if he wasn’t outside where he couldn’t hear me, I would go to my parent’s house. If I really had to go to the bathroom, regardless of where he was on the property, over to my parent’s house I would go. My parent’s home has four bathrooms, I would only use one.

Where this little idiosyncrasy came from, I have no idea. Still haunts me today to some degree.

Our life together as man and wife would be great. Not so, and it didn’t take long for my fantasy life to get demolished.

Gary was a truck driver, you know, those big trucks that haul cement blocks and the like. For those guys work usually begins at 5:00am. This meant for me the day started at 3:15am. As the dutiful wife it was my job to rise with the rooster, make pancakes, pork roll and eggs for my man.

It didn’t matter that I worked also, as long as the king was satisfied, life would be good.

Not knowing that I had a voice then made me the perfect candidate for the job really. I never put up a fight, never said no and never disagreed. It didn’t matter on many occasions he would eat his breakfast and announce he was sick and go back to bed, making me call his boss.

What a joy it is to get lectured at 4am by hubby’s boss because the truck is already loaded for him to leave the yard. I love my life.

With Gary all snug as a bug and satisfied with a full tummy, back in bed he goes. I, of course, am off to work on an empty stomach. This is just one more area where my brain damage is evident. Although I have no desire to eat at 3:30am, I never cooked anything for myself to eat when I was ready for breakfast.

Maybe I should have started up an all-night diner.

I think I need to explain a little bit about the décor of my new love nest. Let’s start in the bedroom. I had moved my four-poster double bed with me to our new home.

We loved to watch TV in bed, so he mounted the TV between the foot-board posts. The TV was about five feet above the ground so when you were lying in bed, your neck was at a comfortable position to watch. There was a problem with this design, because you had to sit up in bed, get out from under the blankets, and crawl to the end of the bed to change channels. That just would not do, and since remote controls weren’t that readily available then, an invention was on the verge of being born.

Gary came up with the ultimate solution. He glued dowels together and attached it to the channel changer. At the other end of this dowel rod, was a cross bar that you just had to turn in order to change the station. It looked ridiculous but it worked. Early remote control; who would have thought?

Moving on to the living room and you would find a plethora of tables, chairs and picture frames all made by Gary. I have to hand it to him, he did have an imagination.

We had a throne. The back was a good five and a half feet tall. It had a patch of orange shag carpet up the back and on the seat. Once you sat down, if you wanted to put your feet up, you just had to lean over and pull the foot rest out from under the chair, and there you have it, instant foot rest. It was one of the most uncomfortable chairs you could ever sit in, but it had its own style. So who cared if you were nearly crippled every time you got up from the chair?

Our coffee tables were made of spools. You know the large wooden spools that hold telephone wire and cable for large jobs. We had lots and lots of them. They were all different sizes, but they were all decorated the same. Rope around the top edge, all stained in Jacobean stain and all covered in polyurethane. We had them all over the house, and at the time, I just loved them. Who would know that years later the thought of a spool would send me into a panic mode of biblical proportions?

My life as a married woman was not exactly what I had expected, but I was married and that made me special with a social calendar that was getting fuller by the day. I was happy.

About three weeks after we were married, a good friend of mine was going to be married. I was to be a bridesmaid. After the church and reception, my husband and I got into a huge argument over what, I can’t remember, but it was horrible; he was screaming and cursing at me in front of everyone. We were at the bride’s home, a little cottage, for the party after the reception, very unconventional. Gary went into a rage about what a mistake it was to marry me and stated that he wanted a divorce. He continued to party with the guests and I was left sobbing in one of the bedrooms. I was an absolute mess. Being that humiliated, again, was almost more than I thought I could take.

Not surprising though, once again, I wasn’t angry with him. I was afraid he really would leave me. I was frightened of this man and I still wanted to stay married to him. I wonder what makes a relatively smart young woman put up with all that. I look back and I can’t imagine why I stayed, or more to the point, why I felt so helpless and I guess, just not worthy of being treated with kindness and respect. It just was not in me at the time. I was pretty pathetic.

We made up later that evening and it was back to normal; normal, not the word that I would use today to describe what we had, but normal for then.

We had seven weddings to go to or be in the year following our wedding and we fought at every wedding. It was just awful. Getting ready for your friend’s special day, just knowing that the shit is going to hit the fan sometime from now until the reception; it was inevitable.

I’m surprised that I don’t have a phobia about weddings. There’s still time…

Our first New Year’s Eve was fast approaching and our social calendar was filling up with parties and gatherings. I was so excited to be going out with my husband; I still couldn’t believe that I had a man. I loved the titles of husband and wife. I felt successful I guess belonging to someone.

Gary had friends to see and errands to run that morning, so I spent the day preparing for our first New Year’s as a couple.

This is when the little self confidence that I had really started to slip away.

I sat alone in our little house, all dressed up and feeling so special until he stumbled in at around 11:30pm, threw up and passed out on the bed. The next morning there would no apologies, not vows of it never happening again; he was furious with me for not waking him up so we could go to our parties.

What should I have done? I should have gone out when our plans were to start and enjoyed myself with our friends. I stayed home instead, feeling sorry for myself but unwilling and unable to do a damn thing about it.

I was pathetic and I didn’t even know it.

I can remember Gary coming home one day not long after that and telling me to shut my eyes, that he had a surprise for me. Can you imagine that I was afraid to shut my eyes for fear that the surprise was a hatchet or some other sharp object being plunged into me? I am not kidding you; I had a real fear of this man, my new husband.

What a great way to start a marriage.

Gary was a grab, push and throw person. That is not a good way to live. The surprise, thank the Lord, turned out to be a moped, not blunt force trauma. I absolutely loved it. I tooled around on my orange bike; complete with basket on the front to hold my belongings. Now, of course, Gary and I shared my new toy. That is what he rode when he was stoned or drunk.

I adored my little scooter. Unfortunately, that wouldn’t last too long either. After a night of drinking and God knows what else, Gary crashed into a tree, or fence….I don’t remember what he collided with, I do know that he came out of it bruised and pissed. My poor little orange bike was totaled. So much for that gift.

This was the man that I wanted to live with for the rest of my life; to have children with.

Have I mentioned yet that I was a twit?

Another misconception that I had about being newly married was that I assumed that my new husband would want to come right home from work so we could spend as much time together as we could; that’s what I wanted. Isn’t that what you did when you were a newlywed; gaze at each other while walking along the beach holding hands. Hell, I thought it did.

Wrong!!!!!!! Several times during the week, Gary and his truck-driver buddies would either stay at the plant and play cards, or worse yet, go to their friend’s house for cards, booze, and, I was sure, women.

When we were together, it was either partying with friends or partying with friends, yup, that’s what we did. I just don’t recall spending many quiet nights at home alone, enjoying each other’s company. That’s pretty sad if you think about it. Just married and no time for each other, just one more clue that eluded me., aren’t we surprised at that.

Even though we weren’t the ideal couple, I still wanted a child. Our friends had a baby and it looked so inviting to me, almost romantic. I had not given the matter any serious consideration really, and to make matters worse, it didn’t occur to me that I didn’t.

If there had been anyone in my family or group of friends that knew how my life was at home, they would have easily talked some sense in me and the decision to raise a family in my situation would have been nipped in the bud right then and there.

Unfortunately, I always put on a very optimistic front; that’s code for lying to everyone about my life. Everything was great, we couldn’t have been happier. Gary was the perfect husband.

This was one of the biggest decisions a person can make in their life and I didn’t even consider anything except for the fact that I wanted a child, my friends had a baby and I wanted one too. I wanted to be pregnant, and be a mother. It was all like some kind of game to me.

It was blatantly obvious that we were not ready financially or mentally. For Christ’s sakes, we had just gone through several fights where Gary had stated that he didn’t want to be married to me; that it was a huge mistake and I was ready to bring another human being into the mix.

All aboard the fantasy express!

This was the man I wanted children with. Again I say; it is amazing that I am still alive today.

I conceived Shayne in that little house and I was as happy as you would expect a first-time mother-to-be to be. For that matter, everyone was excited on both sides of the family. That in itself was a miracle.

Being pregnant didn’t change Gary’s erratic behavior. If anything, he got worse.

It wasn’t long after I had gotten pregnant that we moved from our little love nest to an apartment on the other side of town.

Surprisingly enough, we were asked to leave after our lease was up. Gary was just a bit to odd for their liking.

It was a large, one bedroom apartment and I loved it. It was there that we met a couple who would play a very lengthy and profound part in our lives. But again, that’s for later.

My friends at the bank had given me a really nice baby shower. I got such wonderful gifts. One of the best was a ceramic wall hanging that my friend Maggie had made for me. Maggie and I were co-workers; we worked together in the check department at the bank and I loved this woman. We would laugh our asses off at work to the point that we could barely answer the phone at times. We actually wet our pants once we laughed so hard. She was one of the funniest, smartest, sweetest women I had ever met.

On Friday nights when we had to work at the bank, we would take our dinner break together. Off we would go the Lobster Shanty Pub and order lobster rolls and beer. A lobster roll was chunks of lobster meat piled high on a roll with melted butter poured over it on a hard roll. Oh my God! Sex was never that good. We would sit there and have a few drinks and then go back to work. It was great.

Anyway, back to the shower….

You could see that she put a lot of thought and hard work into this gift; it was from her heart just for me. It was a hand-painted ceramic wall hanging with the letters of the alphabet, each in its own square with a picture to go along with the letter. I loved this present more than any other.

When Gary picked me up at work after my party, and helped me load the van with all our gifts, I was sure to tell him to be extra careful with that particular gift. It was very fragile and more important to me than any other. Maggie was older than me, almost the age of my parents, and I loved her like my own mother.

When we got home and started to bring our gifts into the house, he went on a rampage. I have no idea what started it, but it was terrible. He punched the tray to the highchair and broke that, and then as deliberate as you can be, picked up the wall hanging, looked me right in the face and let go. It smashed into 100’s of pieces. All I could do was stare at him. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.

That statement alone should have given me reason to pause; everything he had done up to that point proved that he wasn’t stable and his temper could turn on a dime.

I am ashamed to say that I just went into the bedroom and cried. Do you see that this is a pattern with me? That is what I seemed to do best. Cry. When the one person on this earth who you should trust and be able to count on over all else deliberately hurts you, you cry.

He in turn went out to the local bar and had a ball.

I guess my feelings at that time, nine months pregnant and my emotions going all over the place, to have him do that with such callousness was almost too much, again.

You know, it’s funny, when I was very pregnant with Shayne, Gary went out one night, bored with sitting home with me, and he went to a local bar. He came home, covered in sand and all over his skin to boot. After asking him repeatedly why he had been on the beach without his clothes on, he informed me that he had met a woman at the bar who was very upset about a recent breakup with her boyfriend. They started talking and one thing led to another and they ended up on the beach having sex. He felt it was his duty as a human being to make her feel good about herself. It had nothing to do with his not loving me; it did have everything to do with his being a decent man who helped a young woman through a painful time.

He did not understand that I was very upset about this. Shit, he was doing the decent thing and all I could think about was myself. I can be so selfish sometimes.

Did I leave, nope?

It was my hope that our child’s birth would calm Gary down; make him more reliable and family oriented. That was not to be the case. If anything, our life became more unstable and volatile, again.

If I have learned anything from this it is that you absolutely cannot change who a person really is. People can only change when they themselves want it. Profound statement, I know. It took me way too long to realize this fact; something that I am sure most of the brain-functioning population already knew.

Who is worse, him for treating me so badly or me for staying? I think it’s a draw.

The time had come for me to have my child. My contractions started at about 4am and stayed steady and consistent when it was time for Gary to go to work. We couldn’t afford for him to take time off now, I would need him when I brought our child home.

I didn’t want to call my family yet because I didn’t know how long this was going to take. I was a very ignorant young pregnant woman so I called the next best. I called Maggie.

As I suspected, she came right over just in time to witness me grab the side of the kitchen table and fall to my knees in pain for the contraction that I was experiencing. That was that, she took me right to the hospital.

After what seemed like forever with nothing happening that should, I was hooked up to a drug that not only causes your labor to advance more quickly, it also caused you to, as Mom’s Mabley once said, pull your bottom lip up over your head if you want to experience childbirth.

I was in agony by the time Gary got there after work.

Our child was born at a little past 6pm and he was perfect.

I was an emotional mess but so happy that we had a healthy son.

Our families were called and all was good with the world.

When the hour came for parent’s, siblings and friends to leave the hospital, I found myself emotional and sad that they had to leave, but happy that I would have some alone time with Gary.

Well, Gary had other plans. He would not be staying; he would be going out to party with the bevy of lady friends of his that were there to wish us well. And party he did, he got arrested for driving under the influence, without a valid license, but was let go because he had just become a father.

The next day was a proud day for papa. He bragged to me about what a great evening he and the gang had and how he got arrested but was allowed to go because he had a son.

Great, bring in the band.

The following day we brought baby Shayne home to start what would prove to be nothing more than the beginning of the end of sanity as I had known it.