The Babymama/Babydaddy drama (Going forth, the two shall be referred to as BDD and BMD) is a constant one, unfortunately, and I'm not safe from the drama. First, let me ask you a few questions. You can answer them by posting a response or you can consider them rhetorical. First of all, do you consume alcohol? Secondly, have you ever blacked out? Well, I can answer "yes" and "yes" to both, unfortunately. The reason I got off task the other night when I began to write this is because I wanted to make certain that I was using the correct terminology, for one, and to make sure that what I had experienced wasn't some sort of freak occurrence.
WTF do drinking and blackouts have to do with BDD/BMD? I'll tell you. You may laugh. You may be disgusted. You might think, "DAMN! That sh*t was f*cked up!" And you'd be right to think THAT.
I feel like my story has to be told, and I know that there are tons of other people that this has happened to.
Okay... I am warning you; I'm stepping into confessional now... *takes deep breath*
I will try not to be so long-winded... 4 years ago, the love of my life had broken up with me. We just were in different stages of our lives and were not able to progress in the relationship. It hurt, but after two months, I met someone and accepted his phone number, even though he was 7 1/2 years my senior.
I was hesitant, but I met up with him and was a nice guy. He didn't have himself "together" and I was still in love with my ex, which I told both him and his mother on several occasions... "I like you, but you don't have yourself together, and if my ex calls, I'm out."
We "became intimate" a few weeks after meeting and during the act, the condom "fell off". I didn't realize it because he was not, uh... "gifted". When he "got there", was when I realized it, because I felt it, and immediately asked WTF he was doing. He told me that he wanted me to have his baby. I told him that I had a 9-year-old son for a reason; I wanted to be married or at least in a committed relationship and DECIDE to have a baby, and don't ever do that again... Anyway, we probably "went there" two more times and I told him I didn't want to be intimate with him any more because of the first incident. A few weeks later, I got the call from my ex, so I left him... Like I said I would. About three weeks later, my ex and I were together, but two weeks later, my ex decided that he still wasn't ready for the type of commitment I wanted, so I broke it off. Again. I decided that I needed time alone.
About 2 weeks later, I went to a party and had no one to watch my son. "Mr. Nice" had a brother around my son's age, so I asked him to watch my son and he did. I remember going to the party and I remember getting back to his mom's house to get my son, but that's it. About 4 weeks later, I found out that I was pregnant. I naturally assumed that I was pregnant by my ex the whole time I was pregnant, which was difficult. We went to counseling several times per month, trying to learn to deal with a pregnancy in a broken relationship.
After I gave birth, my ex said he wanted a DNA test, "just to be sure". I told him that it was fine with me; I had no reason to think he wasn't my daughter's father. Anyway, the DNA test was done and came back that he wasn't the father. I was shocked. I didn't know how that could happen. I felt like I was on an episode of Maury. I said that if he wasn't, then "Mr. Nice" had to be, but how??? I called "Mr. Nice" and told him that the DNA test said she wasn't my ex's, so she had to be his, but I couldn't understand how, because it had been at least 5 or 6 weeks since he and I had been together before my ex and I rekindled. That's when-- here's the kicker-- "Mr. Nice" told me that he "got [me] pregnant on purpose, to keep [me] in [his] life forever". WTF??? I thought, "Who DOES that?" I instantly became distraught because I realized that this guy, who wasn't even taking care of himself (or his older daughter) was my child's father.
What's messed up is that I don't remember anything beyond getting to his house. I don't remember the drive, taking off my clothes, putting them on... NOTHING. Now, the problem is that he swears up and down that I knew the whole time and that I was just in denial and wanted to "put the baby on" my ex, which is some bull.
I had taken the morning-after pill TWICE with my ex-- someone I loved (and still do) because we weren't ready to have a child, so why in the world would I intentionally go through with a pregnancy by someone who "didn't have himself together"? I am college-educated, had been employed with benefits for over 10 years and had already dealt with the lack of financial help from my son's father. There was NO WAY in hell that I would have intentionally gone through with that. If I had any idea that I had been intimate with him that night, I would have hauled a** to the nearest drug store to get those morning-after pills.
Instead, due to my heavy drinking (which was brought on by the depression of breaking up with my ex) I blacked out. I could have hurt or killed myself or someone else. And now, I have a 3-year-old daughter whose father doesn't bust his a** the way I do to help take care of his child. It sucks.
I'll tell you one thing, though: I haven't blacked out since, and I'm very careful of how I consume alcohol. I read that blacking out is not due to the amount of alcohol that is consumed, but how quickly it's consumed. It's very scary to think about, in retrospect. I know this is just TMI, but I needed to tell my story.
I don't care what people think of what I went through. Whether they believe me or not. I'm human and I make mistakes. We all do at some point or another. I drank TOO MUCH. Someone knows someone who who has gone through a similar situation... You, more often, hear about men who are "trapped" with babies, but I'm here to tell you that it happens to some women, too.
I love my daughter. She is beautiful, smart, thoughtful and lifts my spirits when I'm down. It's a constant struggle, trying to take care of her needs, with little/untimely help, but I do it. I still feel compelled to smack the life out of her father for what he did, but I restrain myself constantly.
My grandmother used to say that experience is a good teacher, but it's a fool's way to learn. She was right.
