I knew I wanted to marry my husband pretty early on in the relationship. It took quite a few conversations, a few break ups and nine years for him to give me an engagement ring. Some of that time is understandable because I was 14 when I met him.
At the time we had an apartment together and his sister lived with us. On Christmas morning we were opening our small stack of presents and there was a present wrapped for me from him. When I opened it inside was a small square jewelry box. I was a little stunned and did not get my hopes up that was it was a ring. But when I opened it that’s exactly what it was, and engagement ring and wedding band. I was in shock. I don’t show my emotions very well when someone gives me a gift anyway. I stared at the opened box in shock. I look back and forth between my dark and his sister as they sat waiting for a reaction. As I sat waiting for a long awaited and anticipated proposal… which didn’t happen. I don’t remember every single detail but I do remember asking if it was an engagement ring. I remember taking it over to him and asking him to put it on me to which he said he didn’t think it would fit because I’d probably have to take it to get sized. They also told me how they had wanted it to be the gift that I chose to open the night before for our one present that we open on Christmas Eve so that I could have showed it off to my family when we went over there on Christmas Eve for dinner.
Maybe it was wrong of me but I didn’t know how to react. As much as I wanted this engagement I wasn’t sure how to feel about him not even proposing to me and about him not wanting to put the ring on me.
Before we got married when I was almost 22, I remember distinctly laying in bed with my narc and him telling me that he thought that it would be cool if we had a baby. Technically I think the words he used were, “I think it would be cool if you had a baby.” That day we conceived my daughter. It must’ve been in January; she was born the next November.
In February we decided we were going to let the least go with our apartment because our landlord was raising the rent and we didn’t think the apartment was worth that amount. So we decided together to move in with my parents save up some money and buy a house. We had already decided that we were going to get married in May. Right before we moved in with my parents we found out that I was in fact pregnant.
We moved in with my parents in March and I had to stop working at the beginning of October because I was just too pregnant to keep working. Our daughter was born in November.
When she was about five months old ice started working for a lady that I knew who had a daycare in her house. I had worked with her before and she was very willing to let me bring my daughter with me and do what I needed to take care of her while working. Only a couple weeks after starting work I began calling out sick which is very unlike me. I could probably count on my fingers how many times I’ve called out sick from a job in my life. She was pretty intuitive and suggested that I was pregnant. Since my daughter was so young, I was breast-feeding, and I haven’t started my new cycle yet after giving birth, I highly doubt it that I would be pregnant. After calling out a few times because I was sick I took a test and lo and behold I was in fact pregnant. At that time my daughter was only six months old.
I freaked out because we had been having a lot of relationship problems since the day we got married and over the course of the pregnancy with my daughter. I ended up quitting the job because with this pregnancy I was nauseous and throwing up the entire pregnancy.