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First time mums

Advice / Venting

I never imagined that becoming a mother would look like this. I’m 25 years old, 25 weeks pregnant with my first baby girl, and while I should be enjoying this beautiful chapter of my life, I’ve found myself navigating one of the most emotionally difficult situations I’ve ever experienced.

The truth is, my relationship with my daughter’s father has been a constant cycle of highs and lows. We’ve both made mistakes, and I’m not going to sit here and pretend I’ve been a perfect partner. Before finding out I was pregnant, I had already reached a point where I was considering walking away. During our separation, I had conversations with other people and even reconnected with someone from my past because, honestly, I felt a sense of emotional safety with them that I hadn’t experienced in my relationship. When I found out I was pregnant, I made the decision to try again. I wanted to believe that having a child together would give us a reason to grow, mature, and become better people.

I wanted my family to be together. I come from a broken home, and I never wanted my daughter to experience that. I wanted her to have both parents, a loving home, and the opportunity to grow up with a family unit I didn’t necessarily get to experience myself.

But I’m slowly realizing that wanting a family together and actually having a healthy family are two very different things.

People around me have started noticing things that I spent a long time trying to overlook, justify, or keep behind closed doors. I’ve experienced things during this pregnancy that I never imagined I would have to experience from the person who is supposed to love me and protect me.

I’ve been called degrading names, including being called a hoe because of my sexual history. I’ve had my past sexual assault brought up and used against me as though something that happened to me is something I should be ashamed of. I’ve been degraded as a woman, had my family constantly disrespected, and been told that I would be a terrible example for my own daughter.

I’ve been told that he wished I had died. I’ve been told that I should have gotten rid of our daughter and, at other times, that she wasn’t even his. I’ve had his presence in our daughter’s life used as leverage, whether through guilt, pressure, or expectations of intimacy. Knowing how badly I wanted my child to grow up with both parents, those things have hurt in ways I cannot fully explain.

There have also been moments that genuinely frightened me. Before I even knew I was pregnant, during an argument, I was told to get out of his car or he would kill both of us. There have been instances of him flashing his firearm, and statements along the lines of me being lucky he loves me because if he didn’t, I would know it.

And somehow, I’ve continued trying to make sense of all of it.

There is also the pressure to leave my family home, move two hours away to another state, and live with him and his family. There’s pressure to marry him despite my own reservations about his circumstances, including his involvement with criminal activity, drugs, and his active probation. He has also expressed that his conservative beliefs and ideology would make him a more suitable parent to raise our daughter.

Meanwhile, I’m pregnant, trying to prioritize my health, and have even been told by my doctors that I’m at risk for high blood pressure. I should be focused on preparing for my little girl, taking care of myself, and enjoying the anticipation of meeting her. Instead, I’ve spent so much of this pregnancy dealing with emotional turmoil, stress, and questioning my own reality.

The hardest part is that I still have love for him as a person. I don’t think feelings just disappear because someone has hurt you. Part of me still wishes things could be different. I still wish he would become the person I hoped he could be, the father I imagined my daughter would have, and the partner I originally believed I was choosing.

But I’m also beginning to feel resentment. I’m beginning to feel a level of disgust that I never thought I would associate with someone I once loved so deeply. Sometimes I genuinely question what I saw in him and why I kept trying to hold on.

I’m learning that love isn’t supposed to make you afraid. It isn’t supposed to involve threats, humiliation, intimidation, or having your most vulnerable experiences thrown back in your face. It isn’t supposed to make you feel like you have to sacrifice your dignity to keep a family together

I can acknowledge that I chose this relationship. I can acknowledge that I made mistakes, that I wasn’t ready to leave when I should have, and that I genuinely believed things could change. I can take accountability for my part without accepting responsibility for the way someone else has chosen to treat me.

I also need to acknowledge that I cannot use my childhood experiences as a reason to tolerate something I would never want my daughter to experience. I don’t want her growing up watching her mother constantly struggle, cry, make excuses for disrespect, or believe that being loved means being mistreated.

I don’t want her to grow up believing that a woman has to tolerate being degraded to keep a man around. I don’t want her to confuse intimidation with protection or manipulation with love.

I want her to have a relationship with her father, if that relationship can be healthy and safe for her.

I’m still learning, still growing, and now I’m preparing to become someone’s mother. I don’t have everything figured out, and I certainly don’t have all the answers. But I know I owe my daughter a mother who understands her worth, who protects her peace.

I never wanted to feel like I had trapped myself in a situation I couldn’t escape. I never imagined that trying to give my daughter a family would leave me feeling like I was living in my own personal hell.

I’m grieving the family I thought we would have, the pregnancy experience I wish I could have had, and the version of him I kept hoping would eventually show up.