Since today seems to be the day for breaking news, I’ll finally go public with the fact that I am both pregnant AND getting married. Yes, the baby is Steve’s, yes, I am marrying Steve. No, I don’t know what will happen, no, I don’t know whether Steve will drink again or not (I don’t know that I won’t drink again either), no, I cannot and will not guarantee that he isn’t going to break my heart again. I can’t guarantee that no matter who the person is, or what kind of history is there. I could spend hours trying to explain the things that have happened over the past few months, but what I have recently found is that people don’t want to hear it. Several have automatically assumed that he is going to hurt me again, and that very well may be true. I don’t know that any more than I know whether or not I am going to wake up in the morning for sure.
But I do know this: that people can and do change. I am not the same person I was when I got sober (thankyougod), nor am I the same person I was a year ago. Things change, people change, and I am living proof of that. The fact that I am pregnant (and it was a planned, very much wanted baby, by the way) and am willing, after everything I have experienced, to marry anyone, is indicative that there is hope. I do not want to spend the rest of my life being lonely and bitter, closing myself off from possibilities just in case I might get hurt again.
None of this is to say that I am not afraid. Of course I am afraid; how could I NOT be? And that doesn’t have so much to do with Steve as you might think, and everything to do with me. I am a two-time loser in the marriage department, and will freely admit that I had as much to do with my divorce(s) as the other party did. And while I think I have learned and grown up a lot, what if I haven’t? What if I start going back to that mousy little woman who let her husband walk all over her, until she snapped? I don’t want to be that woman. I don’t take any of this lightly; it isn’t like I haven’t analyzed every single detail of what went wrong in my marriages as well as what went wrong with Steve before. And I can pinpoint some pretty major changes I have made internally that definitely increase my chances of NOT being that woman again, but shitfire, I don’t know. Of COURSE I am scared. The thing is, this time maybe I am willing to work through that fear and keep moving forward instead of letting it cripple me.
At any rate, as a former friend said, I can’t expect anyone to be happy for me about all this, and believe me, I am not. In fact, I am expecting nothing from anyone. Some want to assume they know Steve, and can predict what will happen, when even I can’t do that, and I know him very well. Others do think having a baby at my age is insane, and perhaps that is true as well. But you know what? I am happy. My children are happy; my almost 17 year old son is going to walk me down the aisle and give me away, and if that isn’t symbolic, I don’t know what is. I know, too, that I could sure use love and support instead of negativism and cynicism, but even if I don’t get that I imagine I will make it, and even somehow manage to thrive.