No sleep is not an option for me. My sense of security is back in tact since I think we are on the same page in trying to work things out. I lean over and kiss his lips. I say goodbye and don’t hear a response before I walk out the door….not knowing what is in store next.
I text Jason the next day apologizing for leaving and explaining how he knows that his loud snoring keeps me awake.
He doesn’t reply. I text him again later in the day, and he doesn’t respond to that text either.
What’s going on? Why isn’t he replying to my text messages? Is he still mad and just didn’t tell me about it last night?
The day goes by, and he never contacts me. I don’t know what to make of the situation. I text him the next day, and the same thing happens…no reply.
I give up. I can’t make him respond to me. I’ve tried for two days to contact him, and he, for whatever reason, doesn’t want to talk to me. I’m not sure what that means or where we stand. I’ll give him time. I’ll be patient. Maybe that’s exactly what he needs.
Two weeks later, my phone rings. I look to see who it is…it’s Jason. I answer, “Hello?”
He says, “Hi. How are you?”
No, I’m not good, but does he really care? He hasn’t cared for the past two weeks how I have been. Or if he has, I certainly haven’t heard from him.
“Can I come over?”
“I thought we could talk.”
Thirty minutes later, he knocks on my door. Not knowing what to expect from this upcoming conversation, I answer it. He immediately hugs me and says, “I’ve missed you.”
You could have fooled me.
I don’t reply. He walks inside, and we sit on the couch.
He asks again how I am, and I give him the same reply as before, “I’m good.”
I have no idea where he and I stand. I have no idea if he wants anything to do with the baby. I have no idea why he is here. In the past two weeks, the pregnancy has really hit me.
I had heard morning sickness is not just for the morning. I never realized that it’s morning, noon, and night. Not to mention during the night and before you are even really awake in the morning. It comes at any and every time of day, and hits you when you least expect it…yes, even when I’m driving.
I don’t tell him any of this. I just sit with my pregnancy, waiting to hear what’s on his mind.
“I’ve missed you,” he says it again as though I didn’t hear him the first time.
He continues, “I want to be with you. I want to make this work. I know we can.”
“I know there are things that we need to work on, but I’m committed to do it.”
“I’m having the baby. So, do you want to have anything to do with the baby?”
Up and until this point, I don’t know if he actually knew that there was no other option for me. I know I had hinted at it, but I wasn’t sure if I ever actually uttered those words. I want to be clear with him…I was having the baby, period. He could choose to be a part of it or not. But now that I know for sure that he has ALL the information (as opposed to my thinking he knows it), he can make his decision accordingly. There is no room for miscommunication.
“I want to make this work.” Although he doesn’t answer my question outright, he still “answers” it. Since I’ve already told him that I’m having the baby, he now knows the baby comes with me. It’s a package deal.
“I thought you wanted to make this work last time I saw you. At least that’s what you said.”
“I know it is, but I wasn’t ready. I was still really mad.”
“Why didn’t you tell me that then?”
“I don’t know. I’ve had some time to think of things. I want to make this work.”
He leans over and pulls me toward him. Still a little hesitant, I place my head on his chest as we lay on the couch, not knowing what the next step entails. He wants to make it work. I want to make it work. So, together we will make it work. Do we need anything more than that?
I guess I dozed off for a little while.
I wake up and put on my clothes, feeling reconnected with him is what he and I needed. It reiterates to me how much I have missed him too. It emphasizes that everything will be okay. He still wants me. I still want him. We want to be in this together.
He gets up and puts on his clothes. We kiss one last time. Not a single word is spoken before he leaves.
I sit on my couch, thinking and pondering what’s next.
Great! He wants to make this work. I’m not in this alone. He will be there throughout. I
A huge sigh of relief washes over me…and as soon as I feel the pressure release in my shoulders, something rushes over me. I’m thrust from the couch, as though I was just launched from a human rocket, and sprint to the bathroom. I barely make it to the toilet before I see my lunch floating on top and sinking to the bottom…and not realizing that this uneasiness is foreshadowing for the weeks to come.