I got pregnant with James in July of 2007 during a week of make-up sex. His father and I had broken up for the 10th time in our 9 month courtship earlier in the month. It had only been that previous September that we had met and jumped into our relationship rather quickly. Immediately enamored with one another, there were problems from the start. I made all of the mistakes a young single mother can make. I brought Lucas, then only 2 years old, into our relationship too soon which was not a good idea for him and was not a good idea for us as a couple. But I was so in love. That crazy blistering love that blinds you from reality. I remember telling my girlfriends, "Maybe this is too good to be true. Or maybe this is what it's like when you find the man of your dreams."
Six weeks later in the midst of our first argument I was so frightened by the intensity of it all that I thought to end it right then and there. But he apologized profusely and was so distraught that I chose to forgive and continue on. So began our cycle. Let me make two things very clear, although our fights were epic, he never put his hands on me, and I am not a victim. I fight dirty and say horrible things. I incite jealousy and at times behaved dishonestly. I loved how much he loved me, and I exploited that. We began to make a habit of fighting, breaking up, and making up. Then I got pregnant and we got engaged. That was in August. We followed that great idea with another. He moved in and we tried to play house. Things got horrible fast and it seemed like the walls were closing in on us. He moved out in December. James was born in April. The roller coaster never ceased to move up and down. Our mutual dream for the family we hoped to be has kept us coming back for more. We wanted to be happily married and raise our children, own a home, and go on vacations. We thought that loving one another in our sick way was enough. We thought James could motivate us to keep trying. We thought money problems were the root of it. He thought it would be better if I changed. I thought it would be better if he changed. Four months ago on the night of our son's 1 year birthday party we decided to try again. We tried. We failed. And without even the slightest wimper of protest, we decided last week that we were done. Like a wave pulling away from the shore, we, John and Christina, were gone.
I am sad because my son will grow up with seperated parents. Common or not this situation sucks. I am sad because though painful and difficult, these 3 years have been peppered with laughter and love and it always stings to let go of someone you have permitted so deeply into your heart. I am at the point, finally, where I wish him no ill will, no pain, or distress. I want him to find peace, joy, and love. He is a fabulous father, and for that I am eternally greatful.
So tonight I process the loss of a man, a partner, a friend, I did love ever so much. The one who made me laugh. I watch my son and know none of it was in vain because he is here now. The best thing we did. The purpose of it all.