Finally, some clothes that fit. 

I was in that awkward 5-month stage of pregnancy, where your regular clothes no longer fit comfortably. 

I choose what to wear from my new maternity wardrobe, and spend the weekend at the park with my husband and son.

He’s been better recently. Having my parents involved seems to have helped. Maybe it’s because I’m pregnant too. Whatever it is…I hope it continues.

Monday rolls around and with it the nursery run. I’m about to leave when my husband notices my new outfit and asks why I don’t make an effort to dress nicely when I’m with him? 

I look at him bewildered, as we’ve just spent the weekend together and I’d worn my new outfits with him first. I tell him he’s not making any sense and not wanting to be late, I head out with my son.

I return soon after and head straight to the under stairs cupboard. I have a load of eBay orders that need packing. I’m knee deep in bags when I hear my husband’s voice drifting in from the kitchen. 

He’s questioning why I don’t want to talk to him about my clothing. I explain again, that he’s making no sense because I wore nice clothes for him all weekend, but my words fall on deaf ears.

My bewilderment turns to annoyance. All I can hear in the background is his voice…going on and on. He’s trying hard to pull me into an argument, but I refuse to take part. I know that I try my best with him, but it’s never enough…

I emerge from the cupboard and ask him to please drop this discussion…but he won’t. 

I suddenly feel very pregnant and wish he would leave me alone – I’ve done nothing wrong! And before I know it, I hear myself shouting at him to “just shut up and leave me alone!” I’m slamming my hands on the kitchen table begging him to stop and give me some peace! 

My husband stands there, leaning against the kitchen counter, smirking. “You can’t talk to me like that” he says slowly, a bemused but sinister look on his face. 

 

He bounds towards me and grabs my head as if it were a rugby ball. He pushes me back into the wall and I feel his huge hands grabbing my face. I always thought he had big hands, and now, one of those huge fingers has gone deep into my eye. He lets go and I hold it, crying out in pain “my eye…my eye!” 

 

He jumps straight back into arguing with me, until he sees blood dripping from my nose. He rushes over, “Baby, are you ok?” I push him away and run to the bathroom, locking the door. He finds a way in and tries to console me, but I’m not having it today. I run from him but he won’t leave me alone. So, I lay on the stairs sobbing instead. He comes up behind me…and for the first time ever in our marriage, I swear at him. 

 

“Say that again” he whispers menacingly into my ear. “”Go on, say it!” 

 

Worried about what else he might do, I stay silent, waiting for him to move away from me, and then I run. 

 

I run for the front door as I hear him warning me not to worry my parents. I run for the car, get in and drive to my parent’s house crying, with one eye partly closed, because it hurts too much to open it fully. 

 

I drive…and I never go back.