Chapter 5

The Longest Winter

My second pregnancy was no picnic.

It was ten long, miserable months — yes, ten. He was supposed to be a Christmas baby, but he decided to hang on until well after the New Year. Eventually, the doctor had to evict him.

From the very beginning, it felt different. I was sick all the time — morning, noon, and night. I couldn’t keep food down, no matter what I tried. And somehow, despite being constantly sick, I still gained too much weight. My body just wasn’t my own anymore. I had double the amniotic fluid, which made everything heavier, harder, and more painful. There were days I could barely move without feeling like my insides were being pulled apart.

Meanwhile, he was busy with college and working shifts at the firehouse. I knew it was important to him, and I wanted to be supportive, so I did what I’d always done — pushed through. Even on the days I could barely keep my eyes open, I’d help him study. I’d quiz him late into the night, reciting terms, helping him memorize protocols, reviewing flashcards until he passed his exams. When he finally got his EMT certification, I was proud — we had done it.Sometimes I think I should have taken those classes alongside him. I know I could have passed them myself. Maybe I should have — maybe that would’ve changed something in me.

But even as I helped him move forward, I felt like I was disappearing.

When he came home, instead of gratitude or warmth, it was comments — little stabs meant to remind me where I stood. He’d look around the kitchen and complain about dinner, or point out the dishes I hadn’t washed. He’d make jokes about how big I’d gotten, about how slow I moved. Sometimes it was the tone more than the words — disappointment, disgust, like I’d failed some test I didn’t know I was taking.

I tried to hide how much it hurt, but my mom saw through me. She started coming over more often — to help with laundry, to clean, to make sure I ate. I could see the worry in her eyes every time she looked at me, but I still couldn’t bring myself to say the words. I didn’t want to admit that I’d built a life that looked nothing like the one I came from.Then things started to shift again.

He got hired full-time at the fire department, in a town over. It felt like a fresh start — a chance to breathe, to rebuild. So, we moved there, away from my mother. For a little while, things really did seem better. He was proud of his job, proud of the uniform, and for the first couple of months, we almost felt normal again.

But it didn’t last.

He started staying out late with his work buddies, saying they were just unwinding after shifts. One of them — a man he spent most of his time with — always made my skin crawl. The things he said, the way he looked at me, the inappropriate jokes that turned into gestures… it all made my stomach turn. And there I was, home alone with a two-year-old and a four-month-old, trying to make sense of it all.

Then Mother’s Day rolled around.

His gift to me was a brand new washer and dryer set. It was thoughtful — practical — and I remember thinking how sweet it was, how maybe things were turning around.

But a few weeks later, while doing laundry, I found something that shattered the illusion completely: two movie ticket stubs. Bird on a Wire. A matinee. Middle of the day. And not with me. I’ll never forget the way the world seemed to stop. My stomach dropped, my hands shook — part anger, part heartbreak. I called him, again and again, but he didn’t answer. When he finally came home, all the anger I’d been swallowing for months came spilling out.

It was a knock-down, drag-out fight — the kind that leaves you trembling long after it’s over. Words that could never be taken back, tears that wouldn’t stop. And somewhere in the middle of it all, we called it quits.

But of course, nothing was ever simple.

He refused to move out. The home — a small, rent-controlled place that had been given to me and my children — suddenly became another battlefield.

And there I was again, standing in the ruins of another promise, trying to figure out how to keep my babies safe while the walls around me cracked.