First Month w/Jacob

2015 Extra Note - Every year I read these stories and cringe when I see the this title come up.  A feeling of shame still washes over me when I read the next two entries.  At one time, it was broken up into 4 entries, because it was just too intense for me to read.  Now it's two entries, so I can hurry and get it over with. 



My First Month With Jacob

I was crushed with heaviness, the dead weight of his crippled body weighed heavily in my arms, and the weight of the responsibility of his future weighed heavily in my heart.

I sought relief foolishly and stupidly, drinking myself into oblivion several nights in a row. Not achieving my goal even so - the mothering part of me refused to let me sleep, knowing if I did, I wouldn't wake up to feed him.

Too many thoughts of terror for his future, wondering what it all meant, and resenting the fact that everyone seemed to think I could it alone, and that they didn't seem to see me falling apart.

One night I left the house - with two sleeping babies in it....
Me at the bar down the street. Tested the taste of freedom and irresponsibility, as I rehearsed the story in my mind to tell the authorities in case my house burned down with my two sleeping babies inside.

I returned home, drunk and nervous, praying they were okay, but half hoping it was all over. The thought of the authorities didn't scare me half as much as raising them alone did. They were okay, but as I began to sober up, I scared myself half to death over what I had just done - leaving them home alone, for 2 hours, even tho I was less than a minute away.

It was my third night of drinking, and not sleeping, and something was loosening within me. I watched Jacob sleep, the stillness of his body jarring my senses as always.  A paraplegic baby, even asleep, still looks paralyzed.  I sat there, bar-soaked in the smells of alcohol and cigarettes, and wondered what I was becoming.

Evidently I was a drunk, alone, and not surviving well at all. I had to find another house within the week, cause the one I was in belonged to the church and they just hired another pastor who wanted it. There was no money to move, I had just quit my job in order to care for both my babies, and welfare hadn't kicked in yet. I wanted to go back to work in order to escape, but Jacob's care was enormous and how could I afford it?

The next day was full of doctors, and a suspiciously supportive husband, who decided to come with me for the first time ever for the round of medical appointments. He told me he just bought a new car for his new girlfriend, and the doctor told me Jacob had to go back to the hospital for surgery, because the shunt was not working.  

I shattered into a million little pieces.

I had just spent most of that day, begging for help from my husband - money, finding a house for me, borrowing his pickup to help move my things, babysitting Jeremy, anything anything at all, and I'd take care of the rest.

But no. He kept telling me it was my responsibility.  Up against a wall, asking for help from the father of my children... but he said no - because it was my responsibility.  He said so. 

A doctor asked him how he was handling the stress of being separated from his wife, and coping with the situation of our handicapped child.  The father chuckled, and said "oh pretty good".  Man to man ya know.  I nearly went blind with rage - he had the easy part!!!  No wonder he was "pretty good".  I nearly choked on my sudden hatred, but smiled prettily and strongly for the doctor. Far be it from me to show anyone that I was falling apart.

Continued...
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