My first husband was a very involved Dad with our oldest daughter so I never had to nag at him to help with her like some wives do. He was always happy to. It was getting him to be nice to me that was the problem. He didn't understand why I was ready to go to bed at 7:00 every night. I had an infant and was pregnant and I kept the house all by myself. I was ready for bed at 5:00 but stretched it out to keep him happy.
We fought constantly. Over everything. From how I decorated the girls' room to when I called my mom. Sometimes the fights would get violent and he would throw things or hit the wall. It always scared me when he got out of control like this. I didn't know what he was going to do.
Then, one night we got into a huge fight and he threatened to take Maeghan and go to his moms in Richland, WA, 4 hours away. He was serious. I started up the stairs to protect my baby. I was six months pregnant by this this time.
He grabbed me from behind and set me aside so he could get ahead of me on the stairs. I grabbed him to stop him. He turned around and gave me a shove. I fell into the wall, breaking a finger, then landed hard on my side on the stairs. I just laid there, silent tears falling from my eyes as I cried out to God asking Him to protect my baby, and to protect Maeghan.
He came out of Maeghan's room without her and left the apartment without saying a word to me. I stayed where I was for another 15 minutes then went upstairs, checked on Maeghan and went to bed. He never came to bed that night.
I went to church the next morning. Then out to my parents home. I shared with them what happened and got a resounding "come home" from both of them. And that is what we did. We went home and packed and Monday morning we went to my parents to live. And I had to figure out how I was going to be a single mom to 2 little girls.
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