I’m very outspoken about the importance of the bond and relationship between parent and child, as well as extended-family closeness. But the kind of “dad” Chris has been, has forced me into making yet another tough decision. He has not only been less than ideal as a father, but in many ways, he’s more harmful than anything.
Decent, would be doable.
Demonic on drugs, is not doable.
Therefore, I have decided to not allow him to visit with Jace because I don’t want him further subjecting him to the mess that transpires every single visit. In the meantime, I have done face-time visits with him, and answered the phone when he has called asking to talk to the baby.
When I told him I was pregnant both times, he was nonchalant and ugly. By the way he talked to me and treated me, you would have never suspected I was carrying his offspring. His famous line to this day is “he’s probably not even mine”. Our son Jace was born left-handed with blue eyes, and though both of those traits run in both of our families, he said he was probably one of his brother’s sons, which grossed me out at the hypothetical thought. We took a paternity test which I never touched or handled because I knew he would accuse me of tampering with it. The 99.999% chance he was the father, still wasn’t enough. He said I must have snuck out to get a sample from the real dad, and mailed that one instead. Keep in mind, if you put Chris and Jace together side-by-side, they look identical. Not to mention the fact that I never would have allowed another man near me and had no time unaccounted for.
Chris was an abusive asshole to me throughout my whole pregnancy. He was mean, insecure, spiteful, accusatory, and phony. He would flaunt my baby bump in public, but was a bad dream behind closed doors. He told me to shut up while I was in labor, telling me I was basically embarrassing him in front of the staff with my labor and difficult delivery. I made him leave less than 24 hours after I gave birth, because he went to get me food and a few things from the house, and came back three hours later with no food, and one thing from the house I had asked for. He did however come back full of meth; all sweaty, and jittery, and gross. When he got back, I told him to just leave, which he did, not returning until eleven o’clock at night. He came into my recovery room, took the baby from my breast, held him under the light and tried to wake him up. I asked him to give him back to me, he said no. I opened the door and made the excuse that I wanted the nurse to come check the baby’s circumcision before bed, just to get someone in the room so I could take the baby back into my embrace. He wasn’t there when the baby got circumcised, and he wasn’t coherent when they came to check the baby’s hearing.
Chris left on the third day of my hospital stay. He left for work at five in the morning. He couldn’t take off work because he lied to his boss that I already had the baby because he needed an excuse for the time he called out. He left without signing Jace’s birth certificate. I drove myself home with the baby upon my release, and I didn’t go home. Two weeks after the baby was born, we had to go down to the county recorder’s office and present documentation for him to be added as the father.
Chris, to this day, has never gotten up with the baby one night since he’s been born.
He would get mad at me, and wouldn’t feed him, instead locking himself in the bathroom to do his dope.
He barely changed a diaper.
He would try to walk around with a cigarette in one hand, and the baby with the other. I threw a fit every time, and took the baby back into my arms. It caused a huge argument as if it was a ridiculous request that he not smoke in the baby’s face.
He would tell our newborn, “your mommy is such a bitch” as he was holding him.
He kept the house awake all night by wandering around, going in and out of the house, turning on lights, slamming doors, and being purposely loud.
He bought one box of diapers for Jace between sizes one and four.
He throws a fit over forty dollars a week in child support.
He walked by the baby as he cried, telling him to hold on as he bee-lined for the bathroom or to a fellow drug addict’s house.
He yelled and screamed at me literally while I was sitting and nursing the baby.
He punched me in the leg as I was trying to fall asleep, cradling my son. He was forceful with me as I held the baby in my arms. He was jealous and bitter because I took care of the baby before everything else.
He stunk up the house with his meth smoke, and heroin smoke, then deny he did anything at all. I told him I didn’t want him touching Jace’s skin because meth comes out through your pores.
He keeps bad company around him, which puts bad company around us.
He’s negative, always acting like a bully, disguising insults and back-handed compliments as jokes.
He’s always telling unpleasant or sad stories. Nothing good ever comes out of his mouth or his actions.
I would meet him at a hotel, so he could spend time with the baby. He would leave us there alone for hours while he went all over the place looking for drugs.
Out of a thousand messages and calls I get from him, rarely does he even mention Jace. He’s more concerned about my non-existent love life than he is about his son. I tell him I’m single by choice, being patient and mindful about who I allow into my life. He can’t wrap his head around the fact that I left him because of his foul actions, not because I “can’t keep my legs closed” like he says.
I requested that Chris go through treatment, and a parenting class before I will agree to supervised visitation. In my heart, I know at this particular time, he’s not good for Jace. He isn’t even good for himself. I always hear that I took the baby away, but what choice did/do I have? It’s my job to protect and nurture Jace, not to keep him in a toxic environment that I, as an adult, barely survived and still have trouble coping with.