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Throughout the pregnancy, I really struggled physically. I was so sick that I couldn’t keep anything down without medication. I ended up in the hospital due to dehydration when I missed a dose. Towards the end of the pregnancy, I had pre-term labor and went to the OB numerous times with contractions. It was hard. I very much felt like I was doing it alone, since Sebastian was never around. Once Douglas was born, I thought I’d be all better. I was wrong.

Two months after he was born I began having fits of severe pain that lasted for 15-20 minutes or so and then finally passed, leaving me exhausted and gasping. These fits would hit me out of nowhere, any time of day. It got to the point where I was taking Vicodin before bed so that I could get through the pain and go back to sleep. It would wake me up with a sudden scream and then writhe in pain, Sebastian watching from the bed constantly asking if he should “call someone.” I would let him know that it would pass soon enough and I’d be fine. He’d roll back over and go back to sleep. After a few weeks, I couldn’t take it anymore and ended up at the ER. They scanned me and diagnosed kidney inflammation. Prescribed antibiotics and pain medication. They didn’t work.

My brother was graduating from high school in my family town, so despite everything, I packed up the kids and went to celebrate with my family. A four hour drive and a newborn in the back I left, without Sebastian who didn’t feel his presence was needed. Once I arrived at my grandparents my situation only got worse. The pain increased to the point that I couldn’t eat. Every time I attempted to eat, it just came back up. As I headed to bed, I called Sebastian. I was desperate for help. I didn’t want to scare my grandparents and didn’t know what to do. Sebastian was out with friends and not really helpful as what could he do from a state away? After a few hours of listening to me breathe through the pain, my grandfather could no longer take it and insisted we go to the ER. They too scanned me and diagnosed me with kidney infection, even though I had already taken antibiotics and they hadn’t helped. As we were leaving the ER, my grandpa asked me if I had notified Sebastian that I was headed to the ER. “Yes, of course I did.” I said waving him off. “Well, I bet he’s on his way and will arrive shortly.” my grandpa said, hopefully. I of course, knew better. Sebastian finished his night with his friends, and who knows who else, and was sound asleep. What was happening to me was far from his mind.

I took the pain medication, got a couple of hours of sleep and got ready for the graduation. My mother arrived just in time to drive us over as I was incapable of even sitting up straight. We quickly headed straight from home as soon as it was over, no one thought I should be out any more than necessary. It was a long four hours, most of which was spent with my head in a bag. My mother dropped us off at the house and Sebastian met us in the driveway. One look at me made it obvious how bad the situation had gotten and my mother really let him have it. “Why weren’t you with them? Why would you let her, who’s been so sick, drive over there alone with a newborn?” Sebastian kept his face calm, his gaze direct and clearly stated, “She seemed fine enough.” He turned around and took the kids into the house. I went straight to bed. I called my regular doctor in the morning, explaining the situation and that I had not been able to eat or escape the increasing frequency of the pain in three days. My brother drove me to the doctors office, as Sebastian had gone to work. Two minutes into the examination, the doctor touched the area where my ribs meet, the breastbone and I almost punched him in the face it hurt so bad. “Yep, gallbladder. You’ll need emergency surgery, I’ll call ahead to the hospital and let them know you’re on your way.”

I was shocked, what? How had he diagnosed me in under five minutes when two ER’s had taken hours to do nothing? I called my mother and Sebastian on the way over. I was immediately put into a room and taken for an ultrasound. “Wow, your gallbladder looks like it’s full of marbles, ready to pop.” the technician said while examining my scans. Surgery was scheduled for first thing in the morning. The constant 20 minutes of pain had been my body passing stones through my gallbladder. I had been doing this for months, which had caused me to be so sick when not attended to. Sebastian didn’t stay with me in the hospital, claiming that he had to work and would be here for the surgery. I later found out that his mother kept the children because he apparently couldn’t do it by himself. While in the hospital he did sit by my bedside, texting, non-stop. My family glared at him, my doctor had to nudge him to pay attention to after care instructions and I just cried.

It took four weeks to recover from the surgery, in that time Sebastian managed to drop the kids off at daycare and pick them up. Not much more. I still had to figure out food, cleaning, laundry with no offer for help from him. He still disappeared most of the night and as I gained my strength back, the reality of the situation became all too clear. He wasn’t here, he didn’t want to be here and it was getting to the point where I didn’t think I wanted him here either. It all had to end but what did that mean? Could I afford to live on my own? What about the house?

What about the kids? What about me?

It was all too hard, too much. How could he do this to us? I would scream and cry these questions at him every time he came home, wanting to know where he’d been, who he was with, etc. There was never an answer, just an accusation from Sebastian. “You’re going crazy. Why are you yelling at me? You know where I’ve been. You should be asleep. You’ve been through so much lately, you’re not in your right mind.” Well, I felt crazy. I was going crazy and it was all his fault. Something had to give but who would give first?

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