The Light

After Johnny died, it was a whirlwind of visitors, donations, tributes, memorials, letters in the mail, messages on Facebook. I was so numb for most of it, I would typically just cry, and thank them. Not fully accepting or comprehending what was happening.

I got a visit from two of Johnny's closest friends who had gone away to college. They brought a gift that they had been holding onto for Weston, that Johnny had picked out.

It was the cutest baby blue set with a little fox on the chest. I cried, and held it to myself.

They told me how excited he was to be an uncle, and that he couldn't wait for Weston to be here.

But that joy got robbed of him.

I was struggling. It wasn't a secret. The urge to self harm was so intense. Suicidal ideation still loomed in the back of my head. It was something I had always gone back to, resorted to when the emotions were too big and I couldn't get them out verbally.

But I fought them. I couldn't. I was carrying the little being I had already become so attached to.

So I pushed through.

My baby shower came in October. Surrounded by friends and family, so much joy. I felt light. I felt even more excited for Weston, and all the love he would be surrounded by.

J didn't come to my baby shower.

Regardless of the fact that I was pregnant, the verbal abuse didn't stop. If anything, the expectations of me increased. What was supposed to be an exciting and happy time in my life was dimmed by J and his relentlessness.

He was drinking more, and with that came more altercations. He started going at my Mom more. Before she wasn't the target, us kids were. But with his favorite now sitting on the mantel due to his actions, and Austin and I hiding in our rooms from him, it left her.

J tried blaming my Mom for Johnny's suicide, when all my Mom ever did to Johnny was love him.

Unless her telling Johnny she wouldn't spend $30 at the store on different coffee creamers is what caused him to commit suicide, I don't think it was her actions.

Constant reminders that I had to be out of the house by the time I gave birth loomed over my head.

He was angrier when it came to my daily tasks and if I didn't accomplish them to his standard.

---

C and I spent a lot of time with his Mom and sister. Anytime we could get out of that house, we did.

We tried to figure out what to do, where to go. C didn't want to move into my Dad's due to the distance from everyone else and their strained relationship, his Mom's didn't have enough room for us and the baby. The farm wasn't an option at that time. We couldn't afford a place of our own. We stayed at his Dad's girlfriend's when we could on the weekends, but it was a struggle.

We always ended up going back there, and I was always met with comments. But they weren't just about me needing to get out. J started making comments about me and my baby.

"That kid is gonna be fucked with you as it's mother."

"You should have just aborted the thing."

"Yep, just gonna pop out a bunch of puppies."

"I feel bad for C and his future child support payments."

November came and went, and then December came.

December 2nd.

My Mom took the morning off of work to bring me to one of my last OB appointments.

I had weekly NST's during my pregnancy. I didn't have pre-eclampsia, or any other type of complications. But now I wonder if my high numbers during my appointments were due to the stress I was under constantly.

My OB did the normal checks and then checked to see how far dilated I was. My previous appointment I had been 1-ish cm dilated.

We were all shocked to find out I was already 5 cm dilated.

"You ready to have a baby today?!"

---

I was induced at Hartford Hospital at 11:25 am.

After 12 hours, an epidural, lots of pain meds, and 45 minutes of pushing, I was greeted by a little cry. 8 pounds 2 ounces of perfection, love, joy.

Weston John.

I was surrounded by my Mom, C, and C's Mom. My Dad and his girlfriend were sat in the waiting room the entire time, waiting for him to be here.

One of my nurses' shift had ended, but she stayed for me. She had a daughter who was my age and she had grown attached to me in the short amount of time we had spent together. She was there to help me through all of the hard contractions pre-epidural, and stayed until Weston was out, checked over, and on my chest. She brought me so much comfort in those moments. She told me what a great Mom I was going to be. That I COULD do it when I was crying that I couldn't.

She didn't realize how bad I needed that.

December 2nd, 2014

Holding that sweet boy in my arms made everything else disappear. It was just me and him in those moments. The little person I had fought for, the little person I had stayed alive for. He was perfect.

The hospital stay was bliss. Being able to bond with Weston, family and friends visiting and pouring so much love into us. It was the best I had felt in a long time.

But the stay ended, and we had to go back to that house.

But the next time I would leave, it would be for good.