March 25th, 2010. The Day Jackson Went to Heaven.
by Amanda
The father was not as ecstatic. He had never wanted children and we both felt confident in my inability, so after a year-long relationship, weren't being super careful. He told me that his biggest fear was me deciding to take the pregnancy full term and having the baby. But that's what I planned on doing. I had extremely terrible "morning" sickness. I was sick all day every day. And after the realization that he was going to be a father, I was left on my own. I would get ill driving, and have to pull over into parking lots. I even lost my lunch in the middle of Shop Rite. I was so alone and scared and sick to a level where I couldn't do it alone. I'm in the middle of a very ambitious degree in college and can barely support myself with my job. All these reasons not to have my baby were piling up. It was terrifying. Compounding that terror was the father. He had been in therapy for suicidal tendencies and about a week after finding out about the pregnancy started to slip into poor behavior again. He isolated himself completely. Wouldn't hang out with his friends, couldn't focus at work, wouldn't speak to or see me. It was as if the only way for one of them to live is if the other one didn't. And it was all on my shoulders. The only two people in the world I ever loved more than myself. I caved. I went to my OB/GYN and told her that I wanted to terminate the pregnancy. I called the father and told him he'd have to take me to the hospital. I convinced myself that it was for the better and that I had no way of supporting a child. That the life I would be giving to him was a failure on my part as a parent. I was in a daze for the next week. The day was getting closer and closer but I somehow believed it wouldn't happen. I spoke to my baby and told him all the reasons that I had for doing this. I cried so much when I told him that I just didn't have the heart to look into his face when he was at his 7th birthday party asking me why everyone has daddies except him. Or for him to one day discover that his father had ended his own life because he even existed. The day came. I woke up and showered like it was any other Thursday. The father picked me up and took me to the hospital. I kept looking at him, hopeful he would say something, do something, stop this from happening. I was weak. I signed the papers. I walked into that O.R. on the arm of a nurse. I laid on that table. I let him be taken from me. That was the last day I ever saw the father of my child. He has abandoned me completely. No calls, no text messages, nothing. March 25th, 2010 was the day that I lost everything. The man I loved, the child we created, and myself. The next day I woke up and started crying. And I have not stopped for 31 days. Every day I regret, grieve, mourn and hate. All the reasons I had for letting him go are nothing compared to the amount of love I have for him and all the sadness I have for not having him. I refused to take a copy of my sonogram. I couldn't handle looking at him there, safe and warm, dreaming about what my face looks like. So I don't even have a picture to post. At this point I'm in therapy and trying to find a way to move on with my life. I want to meet up with my beloved baby one day and have him smile and be proud that I AM his mother. I know if I give up, everything will be in vain. I can't change what I've done; I can only find a way to live with it. I had a gut feeling that I was carrying a son and I named him Jackson Daniel. I hope that my angel looks down with love on me and forgives me.
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