My Little Girl's Father

I met him through someone who I considered a friend. I was mourning the loss of my mother and it was a difficult time in my life. He was a medium built, handsome man with hazel eyes and an amazing smile. He had a great sense of humor and was an extremely talented Tattooist. We dated for about six months before we became serious. Shortly after, he moved in and I became pregnant.

The signs were there, if I hadn't been so naive. His mood swings and unpredictable behavior would be dead giveaways to the average Jane. I admit now I saw the changes in him. I knew something was wrong because he'd have nightmares at times and barely slept. But what was his problem?

Eventually secrets came out about his past. He had run-ins with the law and was out on Parole. He violated it by moving in with me and a collect call from him in Jail came soon after. I can't begin to explain the hurt and disappointment I felt when he told me his sentence.....a year!

This meant that my pregnancy and the delivery of our daughter were going to be spent alone. It was hard. I had a seven year old child, a baby on the way and I was alone! It was emotionally and physically hard.

Shortly after the birth of our baby, he was released early (for good behavior)
He quickly found a job in a nearby factory and I also worked near our home. He seemed to be settling down. However it wasn't too long before he was having problems again, especially at work. He'd come home late and his paychecks were "mysteriously" paid short. Soon after, he lost his job and was fired from the next. That is when his behavior became different and small things turned up missing. I couldn't put my finger on it and I just couldn't quite figure out why. I'd ask his family about him, but they were in denial and offered no help. I assumed they didn't like me.

It wasn't until one night when I intimately rubbed his forearms and felt weird bruises that I demanded an explanation. Pleading to know what was really going on. He sobbed uncontrollably in my arms and then the bombshell, he was an addict. Heroin to be exact. An addiction he'd been battling with for almost a decade. I remember laying in bed crying with him for what seemed like forever. We had each other now, I assured him we'd do it together.

We found a local rehab facility and he admitted himself. It was about two weeks when I got his call to go pick him up. He was clean now, I thought, we'd go to every NA (Narcotics Anonymous)meeting and it'll be fine. I believed in him and thought it was behind us. Unwilling to face the harsh reality that his addiction was much more serious than I cared to admit.

We started going to NA meetings in our area. There he wouldn't share or participate and refused to have a sponsor. The meetings didn't seem to be making a difference and it wasn't too long before he stopped altogether. He was using again. Sweating uncontrollably, drastically losing weight and dozing off in the middle of conversations with family and friends. He was out of control and I was hopeless.

Our daughter's first birthday was approaching and as her day neared, I gradually watched her father deteriorate. Before my eyes this fun, loving, compassionate man slowly became a shell of what he used to be. It was too much to witness. I realized then I could not help him nor could I raise my children this way. I asked him to leave.

The next day, my home was robbed.