First Child

Oh the joys of expecting your first child.  All of the things that parents to to prepare.  It is such a loving time.  Or is it.

Any cravings I had were kept to myself.  If I craved something, it was up to me to get it.  I was fooling myself if I thought he would get something special for me.
At 9 months pregnant I was still expected to bring all of the grocery bags up three flights of stairs and put them away when I got there.

The baby arrives!
He said the baby would have my last name and we would switch it when we got married.  Wrong.  Yelling and berating in the hospital room before discharge letting me know that I am crazy if I think I am walking out of the room without his name on the birth certificate.  He was confident that he never told me it would have my name.  I was making it all up.
Going home...getting yelled at because I want to stop at the store to get a pacifier for the baby that seems to like to have something to suck on.  I am messing up the plans.  I need to go in, get the pacifier, and get out as quickly as possible.
Arriving at home... Help is nonexistent.  Especially at night.  I delivered my first child, who was over 9 pounds, and I was in extreme pain.  Yet, no assistance could be provided because I need to suck it up.
I decide to go to my parents for a few days where I can get some help.  Man was that a bad choice.  Even the mother-in-law was calling me and telling me that I am a grown girl now and if he was helping or not, I am a wife and need to start acting like one.  Why does he not have to act like a husband?
As the weeks go by, I learn to keep the baby as quiet as I can.  No crying.  Crying creates madness.  Crying changes him in to the monster and he yells so loudly it makes the baby cry more, which angers him more and it turns in to a vicious circle.  The veins on his neck stick out.  His face is so red.  He has spastic movements and I put myself between the baby and him to prevent any harsh action he may take.  Get mad at me, but don't touch the baby.  When he calms down I take the baby and hide in another room.  I do whatever I can to keep the baby quiet.  I am now obsessed with staying with the baby to keep him safe and to prevent him from making noise.  I don't ask for help, because I am scared of getting yelled at, or getting told I don't know what I am doing, and because I want to keep the baby out of danger's way.

Yeah, those joys of the first child were taken from me.  I never got to experience them because I was too worried about keeping us safe. 

I wish it would have been different, but I would do it all over again for that child.