Rethinking plans…

I took the confirmation that I was expecting a baby as final confirmation that I had messed up my life irrevocably. I already had plans to marry to the father of the baby in three months’ time, a decision I knew to be a mistake but was resolved to go ahead with anyway (and in lavish style, no less). Before the confirmation of pregnancy came, I figured—like so many people of my generation—that I’d just divorce my husband when I was well and truly tired of the nonsense (for some reason, I wasn’t yet) and no harm done.

Now with a baby on the way, everything was different. I knew that I couldn’t just cavalierly divorce when I was tired of my husband. There would be another little person in the picture, and I had to rethink my plans. Except that I was in no state do so. Between the physical symptoms—constant nausea with no relief provided by actual throwing up; torturous fatigue; and sore and tender body parts that generally like to be treated very gently—and  the emotional volatility that made rational reflection nearly impossible, I went in circles about the best way to deal with the implications of the little life inside of me. The way I saw it

1.  I could back out of my decision to marry the baby’s father. This way, I would avoid the mess of divorcing him later and of having a horrible family life and financial instability in the mean time. You see, daddy-to-be left much to be desired in the way of bread-winner. Big dreams, little drive. Plus he had a history of psychological instability which every now and then reared its ugly head.

-No, I couldn’t do that. The wedding was already announced, planned, and mostly paid-for by my parents. It wasn’t that I feared their disapproval. I knew they’d support me in backing out of such a huge decision. (What I didn’t know is that they foresaw the disaster that the marriage would be and prayed that I would back out of it.) It was a point of pride. Also a misguided sense of commitment: I made this decision, now I’m going to see it through. Never mind that it was a bad decision that I still had time to correct.

There were also logistical considerations. We lived in Barcelona, Spain, and I would receive all my prenatal care there. If I were to back out of the marriage, I would be an illegal resident in Spain until my baby was born; that meant no legal work until the baby was born. I wouldn’t be able to count on daddy-to-be for financial support. Returning to the United States (my country of origin) would not afford many more options. At that time the US didn’t offer universal healthcare or even minimal subsidized healthcare for unemployed people, unwed mothers, infants… I’d be stuck paying for my prenatal care, labour expenses, and pediatric well visits until I found a job in the US. And good luck finding a job as an unwed, expectant mother. So that was ruled out as an option.

2. I could marry the father. This way, I would provide the baby with a “normal” family, I’d have my immigration status worked out and be able to land a well-paying job in Barcelona, and who knows, maybe end up having a nice little life.

– I couldn’t really do that. Our family would not be normal and we would not have a nice life because as it was we were fighting all the time. The added tensions and financial burden of a baby were going to do little to alleviate that. Also, there were no well-paying jobs to be found in Barcelona. The economy was in the toilet.

I did the only thing I saw as feasible: nothing.

Teddy.