Memoir of a runaway girl - A true story!
Remo claimed that nothing was going on, as if I did not already witness it myself.
I grabbed her things, threw them out into the hallway and pushed her out after them. I then came back and to my surprise, I hit him right across the face. I was disgusted with him, how could he do that to me? How could my friend and my husband betray me this way?
Remo spent quite a few days trying to make it up to me and he knew he was walking on thin ice with me. After a while I figured that if it had gone any further then what it had, I would probably have walked out the door. For whatever reason, I made excuses to myself as to why I should stay.
Things slowly settled down and I was back to myself. Thinking about getting the spare room made up so we could never have anything like this happen again. But something kept telling me that this one bedroom was never going to become our room.
I guess I was right, because I went to the doctor only to find out I was pregnant. That bedroom would never be ours; it would belong to our new baby instead.
I worked as a babysitter for an affluent family during this time, until I could not work anymore. Remo was still at the same restaurant, which worked out well because our apartment was walking distance from his work.
The summer came and went, fall was upon us and I was getting huge. Ever since I was a small child, I had not given much thought about having children. Here I was, pregnant and in a marriage of convenience. I always questioned myself about my marriage, did I really love him? But now that I was having his child, I figured it did not really matter if I did or not; we were soon going to be parents and that was more important to me than anything else I was feeling.
Christmas came and my son was born that same morning. All my fears and questions about being a mother left me instantly. I was holding my son, a new life and a new reason for living.
My parents were nearby for the holidays so they were close enough to be there for the birth of their first grandchild. I was so happy that this baby was bringing both of our families closer together. Back in the eighties, you had the option of having your newborn in your hospital room during the day and then back to the nursery at night, or, you could leave your child in the nursery and go visit him there. I wanted Michael to stay with me. I could not have him in a cold room with other crying babies.
As I lied in my bed, Remo’s mother walked in. She was asked outside the hospital room door to put on a gown and mask before entering my room. But she never listened to anyone and really didn't care what anyone thought. I always called her a witch under my breath. She walked in anyway and she went straight to the bassinet. She took Michael out and brought him to the bed. I was slightly nervous about the way she was acting, not knowing what she was doing.
She laid my son on the bed, unwrapped him from his blanket and clothing. She picked him up and turned him on his stomach and was looking at his bum. What the heck was she doing?
She was looking for a dark patch that was at the small of his back, a mark that all her children had at birth. When I asked why she was doing this, it was brought to my attention that she thought that I cheated on her son and that Michael was not Remo’s child.
Thank goodness he had that patch. No matter what I would have said, if it had not been there, I would have never been able to convince her. She hated me from the first time she met me and 1 year later, nothing had changed.
My mom came back up a few days after his birth and decided to stay with us to help out with our son. She was a godsend for me as I never knew how exhausting a new born could be on a new mom. But she helped with baths and feedings and for the first time, I felt like I was actually bonding with my mom. It was an amazing time for me.
Soon it was time to move into a larger place. Sleeping on a pullout was not ideal when you had feedings every three to four hours. I was not sleeping well and I needed my own room.
We finally moved into a much larger two bedroom apartment. Albeit, not in the best areas of Edmonton, but we would make do since the rent was reasonable.
When Michael was about two years old, I went back to Lethbridge for a long weekend. My brother Jim had been out the night I arrived and at about 10 am the next morning we got a call to let us know that Jim was at the hospital. He had been in a bad motorcycle accident. My sister went to go get him and bring back to home. We got him settled into his room. The peg of his motorcycle had crushed all the bones in his foot and it was all bandaged up and swollen.
We all went back into the kitchen to finish preparing dinner before Dad got home. Mom asked us not to say anything to Dad since he would totally freak out. After about an hour, Dad's car pulled up and that was when Mom started to panic.
My father walked in through the back door and said “Dinner smells good! Where’s Jim at? His motorcycle isn’t in the garage!”
The inevitable was about to happen, he was going to find out sooner or later.
I just said “He is in his room”.
As Dad made his way to Jim’s room, Mom glared at me and hissed, “Why did you even answer him?” She knew all hell was about to break loose and we were all just waiting.
All of a sudden Dad began screaming at my brother, and we heard all the yelling. A pot of boiling water was on the stove. My mom was about to put the corn in, but instead, she picked up the pot and threw it. She scalded her hands and arms from the boiling water as it splashed everywhere.
My mom had already taken her insulin and with the added stress, she quickly went into a catatonic state.
Chapter 3 - Part 5 continues tomorrow.
For those who missed the beginning, you can read it here: https://steemit.com/writing/@feline1991/a-steemit-original-a-lifetime-of-seeking-happiness-part-1