(I allude to what finally led to my escape in my book. But I do not detail any particular conversations or confrontations with the sociopath. I purposely keep it vague. My Facebook Page and this blog are where I have disclosed most of the details.)
Two weeks before I left the sociopath, I discovered I was pregnant. I didn’t want to tell him at first and waited a few days before I slapped the pregnancy test on the arm of his chair and walked back to the bedroom.
I was petrified of what his response would be. He had always spoken about how he wanted to have children and to especially have a little girl who looked just like me. But I saw how he treated my son and witnessed his equally sick brother raise his niece. I was torn. I had always wanted a sibling for my son but I couldn’t imagine exposing a child to such a deranged father.
He immediately came back to the bedroom to confront me. I was chastised for the manner in which I informed him. He didn’t think being dropped a stick with a plus sign on it was very tasteful. (Well, fuck you!) And then he proceeded to tell me all of the things I was doing wrong with regards to what I ate and my depression and my drinking (of which I had stopped as soon as I discovered my pregnancy).
It didn’t matter that I was suffering from severe nausea. I could barely sit up. I explained repeatedly that I was not feeling well and could we discuss this later. I was on the verge of vomiting, but he seemed unmoved. He was more pissed because he was out of the loop, perhaps? Hated that I had control, perhaps?
And that’s the issue. I never wanted control. I just wanted to be left alone so I could relax and feel better. Each time I went to put my head on the pillow he grabbed me by the shoulders and forced me to sit up. It took everything inside of me not to vomit. I have no idea how I was able to keep from crying, but I sat there emotionless and just observed his craziness.
And it got worse.
He told me that I would NEVER hold that child, as he pointed to my belly. He said he would convince a judge that I was unfit, depressed and alcoholic. He said the baby would never be in my arms because he would take it right from my hospital bed. (Again, fuck you!)
I remained speechless.
He must have worn himself out, because he finally laid his head on his pillow. I was still sitting up! He rolls over and says he was just kidding about taking away the baby.
I thought to myself, “It’s a bit too late for that apology, cocksucker.
I knew better than to believe anything he said at that point, especially when it came to manipulating my emotions with his empty apologies.
His treatment of my son (detailed more in my book) and how he behaved at the news of possibly having one of his own with me makes it hard for me not to hate him and remain bitter. I’m sure with a little more time and work that the last remnants of hate will dissipate.
I am able to let go of his treatment of me, but not of my child. I think that’s why in the beginning, soon after leaving him, I was so adamant about finding his new girlfriends to warn them. I wouldn’t wish the pain of the relationship on anyone.
But now I don’t even bother. They must figure it out the hard way.
As for my pregnancy, it only lasted 12 weeks. I had a miscarriage a few weeks after leaving him. I wouldn’t claim to feel lucky as much as I felt relieved.
Before the miscarriage, I was a wreck worrying if I would be able to protect the child. I had horrible visions of being separated from the child. Nightmares. Cold sweats. Visions of the child hating me because the sociopath had brainwashed the child against me.
So much anxiety filled me after he threatened to keep the child from me. I was on the verge of losing my mind.
I do believe the miscarriage was fate. I’d like to think the child’s soul was in control and chose to move on. I don’t know. It’s how I cope with the loss.
The sociopath would tell everyone I lost the child because I didn’t take care of myself or that I got an abortion. Honestly, so what if I didn’t take care of myself or have an abortion? My child is no longer suffering and either am I.
(Image source: Elephant Journal)