Then, three and a half years ago, I’d found out I was pregnant with Nemi, and that was pretty much it for me. My priorities changed, and although I still needed to earn money for us to survive on, I stopped burning the midnight oil so often and moved closer to my family, taking on smaller jobs so I could raise my baby girl.
I’d known being a single parent wasn’t going to be easy—who’d think it would be?—but I had no idea it’d be as hard as it was. The pregnancy had been a breeze, and I think that’d misled me. I mean, if you don’t get morning sickness, don’t have any issues through something as arduous as growing a baby inside you for forty weeks… how hard can it truly be after it’s born?
Note how I’d said I didn’t think it’d be easy, but then I didn’t think it would be that hard? Naivety—it makes a mockery of us all.
The pregnancy had been fine until it came time for the birth because Nemi was in the breech position. They’d decided on doing a caesarean two weeks before she was due, thanks to her being ass down. After that, the worst bit had been feeling the pushing and tugging on my stomach when I couldn’t really feel much else below the waist. Nemi had come out at six pounds and three ounces of perfection, screaming her little lungs off.
And that’s where it’d all changed.
My midwife had told me that nowadays, hospitals allowed new parents to go home quickly. Insurance companies had changed their policies, and if the new parent was happy about it and the mother and baby were doing fine and wanted to go home, off they went. Unless you had an epidural or a c-section, then you had to stay a while longer.
Well, I hadn’t wanted to leave, painful wound above my vagina or not. The second Nemi started screaming her head off, I’d immediately thought something was wrong with her. Then I’d been afraid I’d smother her with my boob when I fed her, or she’d choke on the milk. After that, it’d been fear of breaking her bones when I changed her diaper, held her, bathed her, or even just touched her hand.
Mom and Sayla had been fantastic and had helped me for the first two months, but my anxiety had just increased. The doctor said it was like postnatal depression, except it was anxiety, and to have faith in myself and to enjoy this part of being a parent. Of course, being a single parent was part of the problem because I didn’t have someone else to share my concerns with, but I was okay with that.
When I’d found out I was pregnant thanks to a faulty condom, I’d been seeing a guy called Joel Garner, who I’d met via one of my contracts in New York. He hadn’t wanted to be a father, and I hadn’t wanted to get rid of the baby, so we’d come to a decision—I’d do it on my own.
Joel wasn’t a bad guy for feeling the way he had, and I didn’t resent him for it. How could I? He’d given me the best and biggest gift I’d ever received. He came from a very controlling family, and although I didn’t know the whole story, I could tell there was some childhood trauma for him with his mom. He was certain, if she knew, his mom would demand we lived there and take over a lot of the parenting of the baby. He didn’t want that for the baby or me, and I didn’t want to live a life like that.
To add to it, I hadn’t seen us being long-term, anyway. Maybe we could have been, but both of us were holding a lot of ourselves back from the other, so how would it have worked? If you’re going to commit, you have to give more of yourself to your partner than that.
Sometimes you just had to be realistic, and I’d been given the little girl who made my heart full to bursting, so I wouldn’t have wanted to turn that gift into a prison sentence for all of us. Granted, I hadn’t known what the background with his mom was, and I still only knew the bare bones of it, but I wouldn’t have risked Nemi’s safety or happiness, so it was a moot point.
Once we’d agreed, he’d laid out his final request—he hadn’t even wanted his name on the birth certificate in case his parents somehow found out or something happened to him, and they fought me for custody of Nemi. He did give me a letter to give her, though, and I sent him updates on her once a year. If he changed his mind later on in life, awesome. If not, I was happy with my choices, and I hoped Nemi would understand. She could always go and see him when she was old enough, so he wasn’t completely cut out of her life.