Kennith and I argued a great deal. Not those nice calm loud discussion we had experienced in the past – but those real screamers that usually ended up with profanity being yelled across the house. It was truly horrible – on the upside he was seldom there so the arguments were not that frequent.
Besides the pressure of doing MBA, Kennith had committed to doing a trip up Kilimanjaro about a month after our second baby was due. This meant that when the MBA finally finished, Kennith started going to gym after work, and on the weekends going on hikes to train for Killimanjaro.
To say I was livid, would not even hint at the anger I was feeling. I was so annoyed and disappointed. His actions really just re-enforced my feelings of abandonment. For me the resounding message was “those you rely on will abandon you at the time when you need them most.” Kennith’s actions drive this message home again and again over this period.
I was desperately ill during the pregnancy. Probably because I was just so stretched in terms of what I could cope with. I started to pick up every infection that went around. I was always sick and lethargic. I could not cope, and at about this time Kennith in all his MBA wisdom, had decided that now was a super great time to go and climb a mountain.
One day I got home late from work, and was exhausted. My job was very stressful and also required me to literally run around a production floor. Kennith was working at the dining room table, and we got into a fight about the bed that he had just bought. It was a huge screaming fight – but the fight had nothing to do with the acquisition of the bed. The fight was about my desperation of being left alone, that he knew how I felt, and chose either not to care or not to notice.
I had made an awful decision to have a second baby, which would only tie me to this man for longer. I really needed to get out of this relationship. About a month before I was due I ran away from home and went to seek refuge at my mom’s home for about a week. I really just slept and was taken care of which was great. Of course nothing would change on returning home.
The pregnancy progressed and it was anything but peaceful. I was ill, over worked, over stressed and exhausted. I decided that I did not want to know the sex of the baby. I was convinced it was a second boy. I decided if I did not actually find out then I could have a mild fantasy about having a daughter – which I was desperate for.
Kennith attended all if not most of the OBGYN visits. They really were not great times, and we would often get into a fight as I would arrive late.
To further aggravate my situation I decided that I wanted to go into labour and go through a trial of labour. It became an obsession. I had a planned c-section with Connor and it had gone along without any incident. In fact it was brilliant. But for some reason, my rather hormone-soaked brain decided that this is what I was going to do – and no one could reason with me. Anyone who tried to reason with me seemed to spur me on even more in my resolve.
My OBGYN tried to talk me into a c-section and I just got my back up and even went as far as to visit a midwife, as I was considering changing care providers. I was out of control, and desperate, and making the most bizarre decisions which only added more stress on to the situation.
In my final trimester, I had picked up bronchitis and a few bouts of pink eye, and remained ill throughout.
This baby was due at the end of June, and I was just going to wait it out, though I was so exhausted I could barely stand, but somehow I thought I would be able to get through labour!