The heartbreaking ongoing series of guest blogger Mom-on-the-edge's painful divorce.
Chapter 11: It's hard enough to separate from her husband. But now, will she lose her little boy?
While I was pregnant and working I used to sneak off to the bathroom, check the stalls for feet and when I was certain the coast was clear I'd sing to the baby in my belly, "Oh my little boy, you're my pride and joy..." I'd joke, "You're working so hard today I think you deserve a raise," "I love you. You're such a good boy." Even before he was born I started creating a strong bond.
Then, I saw that little face. The nurses snatched the camera from my husband's hands, told us to get real close and to everyone's amazement, our minutes old son smiled. I absolutely wouldn't believe it if I didn't have the picture to prove it. A total look of contentment.
Breastfeeding. The thought did NOT come naturally to me. I didn't want my boobs for my son's or the public's consumption. The breast pump with it's repulsing sounds. The bra with its holes for the plastic suction cups. I didn't feel like Madonna, I felt like a fembot! But, I vowed to try, it was good for my baby. Six months later I couldn't believe I was sad to stop. Feeding my son and sitting in the dark while the rest of the world was asleep turned out to be some of the most precious moments of our lives.
In all of his 11 months we hadn't spent a night apart. Now, my husband wanted him to stay over Saturday night. I knew this day would come. I hated this f'in separation! I wanted to take my baby and run far away. But, his father had a right and I had to deal with it.