Little Baby, Be Strong


The other day, you screamed out across the grocery store parking lot, “Oh and by the way, we’re getting married and we’re having a baby daughter. That’s right. She’s moving in this weekend. I just thought you ought to know.” The tone was mocking and malicious.

I felt my brain going into a state of shock and confusion. The only thing I could think to spit out was, “I thought you had to be divorced before you could marry someone else.”

We have been going through a long divorce process with children.


I have always been the spouse totally blindsided by everything – by a man who had checked out of the relationship even before we had kids, who lived a secret double life that he felt I “should have known about,” duped by the divorce court system that you knew everything about and carefully planned exactly how you would play me to leave me with as close to nothing as possible while you got the money and the house.

Now again, I didn’t know what was going on and here you were, trying to push buttons within me to ruin my weekend or try to make me go off the deep end. However, those buttons aren’t there anymore. They were erased through years of therapy and psychotropic medications. Now they are ghosts on my heart.

I remember when we had our daughter and how gorgeous she looked when she was born, her smell, her sweet little gaze at Mommy. Now she’s stuck trying to make us both happy in a messed up game of “Please the Narcissist.” I try to believe that she won’t see it as a game but she might be happy in a new role as Big Sister, again.

Later, you said I should “stop making the kids hate you and their stepmom.”

I have always taken the high road, despite the pain, despite how you never have. It’s like I’m always supporting you around the kids and whatever terrible decisions you make (at least, I’m not disparaging you). You’re always supporting you, as well. You demonize me. I hear it in the way the kids talk about me and my family, “Daddy said you need to stop XYZ,” etc. “Grandpa does blah blah and Daddy doesn’t like that.”

Does God (or anyone) really care that I am doing the right thing? Are the kids going to grow up and realize that Mom had it rough but she hid it all so we never had to worry about anything or see any conflicts? Will they appreciate how it made their lives easier?

I pray for your significant other, that she can wake up and see what’s happening here and how emotionally unsafe this is. I hope you can use all the baby gear that is still at the marital home, gathering dust from when I had to run away. I hope the new baby feels that she is just as special as our daughter is and was since the day she was born. Little Baby, be strong. It’s hard being born a woman in this world. I’ll be on your team, helping you if I can.


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