Never give up on hope.

Reasons I Am Pissed Off

I am so angry. I’m pissed off. I feel like if my HUSBAND had done things differently, my son would still be here.

  • Before my water broke, my HUSBAND refused to do ANY housework. I was left to do all of the heavy lifting, cleaning, and taking care of the children.
  • After my water broke, when my HUSBAND would bring our daughter to the hospital, he would hand her off to me, letting her crawl all over me, all over my stomach.
  • One night at the hospital, when they got snowed in, he pretty much threw Cayce at me and made me calm her down and get her to sleep. And every time she would almost get to sleep, he would get up and storm around the room yelling that he was just going to drive her home, which would wake her back up.
  • After I was discharged from the hospital and saw the actual state of my home, I was still expected to do the housework. He still wouldn’t help. He STILL sat on his LAZY ASS and watched ME (who was supposed to be on BEDREST) clean the house.
  • When he got admitted to the hospital, he had absolutely ZERO consideration for me. It was expected that, with my water broken, I was to tend the house, take care of the children, and drive an hour one-way every single day to tend to HIS needs as well. While I was supposed to be on BEDREST.
  • The night that I went into labor (March 2, 2015) I begged him to let me stay home. But he just HAD to have his non-hospital food. So I drove for over an hour, and on the drive, started contracting. Then, when I called him to tell him that I was in Wilmington, and that I was having regular contractions, he didn’t care. So, I got him his fucking food and then had to haul Cayce and the diaper bag and the food all the way up to the fifth floor.
  • Sitting in his hospital room, I told him that the contractions were getting worse. His response? “What do you want ME to do?”
  • Then when I told him that I needed to go to Labor & Delivery, he got pissed off because he had to keep Cayce in the room with him.
  • My mom came to get Cayce, but before she went to his room to get her, she came to me. She saw how hard I was laboring already and called him to ask if he was going to fucking show up. He threw a fit about her coming to get Cayce and she told him to have a nurse bring him down. So he did. He dropped Cayce off with my mom, and then waited about an hour before leaving because he “had to get his medicine.”
  • He left me alone for EIGHT HOURS. In which time, my mom came back after work. She was there with me when Carter was born, and when he died. Jeremy was not present for either event. Because his nurses “wouldn’t let him.” He left me alone the whole fucking time that my body was killing our son. I was unmedicated and I needed him. And he wasn’t there for me when I needed him the most. I didn’t WANT my mom. I wanted MY HUSBAND. And my HUSBAND failed me and our son. And I resent him for it. I sort of hate him for it.
  • Since Carter died, Jeremy has gone about his normal life as if Carter never even happened. I can barely function around the grief. And he just continues about his life as if our son never happened.
  • He doesn’t treat me any differently. I am still expected to perform household tasks, and he has been pressuring me to go back to work. And I sort of hate him for it. He wants me to just return to “normal life” and I am NOT READY.
  • He dumps all of the work associated with our other children on me. He doesn’t notice that my body is breaking down. My calves constantly ache, the left side of my head constantly aches, and he berates me for “not doing enough.”
  • He has not, even once, just looked at me and asked, “How are you doing? Is there something that I can do for you?”
  • Now, when Cayce throws a temper tantrum (Hello, Terrible Twos) Jeremy just walks away to let ME deal with it. He thinks nothing of the emotional turmoil that I am going through.
  • Or when Jeremy CAUSES a temper tantrum, Jeremy just leaves the room to let ME deal with it. And, as a real “fuck you,” calls me a CUNT on his way out of the room.
  • And I am PISSED at my mother. She has NO RIGHT to be angry with MY HUSBAND. FUCK YOU, MOM. Nobody that I have EVER been with has been “GOOD ENOUGH” and you feel like you have a say in MY LIFE and MY CHOICE OF SPOUSE. YOU DON’T GET TO TELL ME HOW TO LIVE MY FUCKING LIFE!!!!! But because YOU FEEL ENTITLED to take over my life, you performed the ULTIMATE BETRAYAL. And I FUCKING HATE YOU FOR IT. And I will NEVER FORGIVE YOU FOR IT. No matter how many nice things you do for me, for the rest of my entire life, I will NEVER FUCKING FORGIVE YOU.
  • I can’t let go of my HUSBAND. He is the only other person that had any connection to Carter. He helped me make my son. I can’t let go of my SON. Even if that piece of him is making me more miserable than almost any other thing in my life.
  • It has been almost two weeks since my son died. And my dad has YET to call me, even just to say he loves me. So much for family, right?
  • The only other thing in my life that hurts me as bad as MY HUSBAND is the loss of MY SON. And I hate him for that. I should be able to take refuge in him. But I can’t. I should be able to go to him for comfort. But I can’t. I should be able to use this as an opportunity to feel closer to him. But I can’t. He has hurt me more than almost any other one person in the world in the past couple of weeks (besides my “MOTHER.”. And I hate him for that. And I can’t even tell him how I feel.
  • Edit: You can’t even say you are sorry. And in fact you just continue the bullshit. You want to pretend like last night didn’t happen. Well…guess what? I remember.
  • Edit:: Some sorry ass piece of shit that is on my “friends list” on Facebook reported the picture of my son (the one with his teddy bear). Please believe that, if I find them, someone will be posting a picture of them in a fucking casket.

That is how I am really feeling. I have been moderating myself in the past few weeks because I didn’t want to hurt people that I love, even though they have stabbed me in the back, the front, and my heart. But now the gloves are off. I hate you Mom. I hate you Jeremy. I love you, Jeremy, but I sort of hate you too. I sort of love you, Mom, but I really fucking hate you. You’re supposed to be my mom, and you have hurt me more than any one person in the world. You KNEW your ex-husband was molesting me, and still you stayed with him. I don’t care what OUR PASTOR told you to do. YOU WERE MY MOTHER, AND AS SUCH, IT WAS YOUR DUTY TO PROTECT ME. And THEN, when my back was turned, you stole custody of my oldest child from me. Even though I have never harmed her. I have NEVER let her be harmed. i have NEVER stayed with someone that I knew was harming her. You deserve to rot in fucking Hell for all eternity. And I would enjoy a nice glass of wine while you did. I FUCKING HATE YOU. When what I need most is my children, you deny one of them from me, right after my son dies. I hate you. And I will FOREVER hate you. You are officially WORSE than your mother could ever have been (according to you). Congratulations. You have hurt me more than the sexual abuse at the hands of your ex-husband ever could. You have always gone behind my back and talked shit about me to Genesis’ biological paternal family. You have even talked shit about me to my husband. But that is what this “family” does. They are nice to your face, but the moment you turn your back, they stab you right in it. I will never trust you again, “Mom.” I will never be able to forgive you, “Mom.” I fucking hate your fucking guts, “MOM.” Know that, even when I am talking to you on the phone, and I am not spewing rage, I fucking wish you would just die. I wish that you weren’t my mom. I wish that I had a mom that was normal. That didn’t try to steal my children. I wish I had a BETTER MOM. But I am stuck with you, so the most I can wish for is your death. And yes, I am that angry. Yes, I am really that bitter. That is how I REALLY, TRUTHFULLY feel. You took my oldest child and told me that if I leave Jeremy, I can have her back. But what you are really doing is asking me to choose between my son and my firstborn. I love them equally. How can anyone that has had children ask that of a mother? Oh…that’s right…you didn’t raise any of your four children. You just came back into their lives after someone ELSE raised them. You’re not really a mother. I forgot that part.

A Very Pissed Off
Evelyn Jean Brook Shields-Cowley

PS: Another reason that I am pissed off–Here it is, 2am and Cayce is still screaming. And you are STILL on the couch. Knowing that I have not slept well in the past few weeks (save for the last couple of days) and you are in the living room, on the couch, leaving me alone to tend to her. Just like you have been since 11pm. Fuck you, fucknugget.

PPS: Also, you shattered my phone. I can’t even swipe on it without getting shards of glass in my fingers. My phone had pictures of CARTER on it. I kind of fucking hate you. Asshat.


Comments on: "Reasons I Am Pissed Off" (7)

  1. georgiarhianne said:

    Firstly, your mother has no right to upset your further by aggrevating the situation but I am hoping she’s done so because she loves you. But it’s definitely NOT the best time when you’re grieving and need support, not another battle.

    Second, there might be two sides to your husband – is this his way of dealing with grief? Or is he just a bellend? I don’t know him. I can’t tell you that. But I’m angry at what you have written, as a stranger, because you’re a woman who is feeling what I’m feeling and I want you to be treated like the damn special person you are. It’s not my place to judge your husband but I am really damn angry on your behalf.

    You carried that baby, you loved him more than words can describe and this should be respected by everyone. And this will never go away. You will never not grieve for him, it will just be easier to cope and deal with. It won’t go back to normal. Your life will have a new normal. But that normal is not a world where Carter didn’t exist. It’s a world were he existed and he went to heaven far too soon.

    Love from a total stranger being sent across the ocean xo


    • Thank you. And maybe it is just his way of “dealing.” But I had hoped for this to bring us closer together, not drive us apart. And I feel like…I am hurting more than HE is. And yet I get dumped on. It’s not fucking fair. I can’t handle even one more thing, and he just dumps on me. I know that I probably should have just left that one of my journal, and not posted it on my blog, but I am ANGRY.


      • georgiarhianne said:

        Your journal, your posts. You post everything and anything you want. No one has any right to judge you.

        I would be angry too. Today is mothering Sunday and my OH has no sensitivity about it at all – men are thoughtless. I’m here if you ever need to vent or chat.


  2. From another stranger, I just want to say that I’m sorry for your loss and acknowledge your post. Be gentle on yourself. The anger that comes with grief is overwhelming, as is the disappointment in people who you thought would be there for you. I have never lost a child, but I lost my wife- I’m a 28 year old widow. A little tip for feeling better just for a few seconds – throw ice cubes at the wall. The shattering is very therapeutic and you don’t need to clean up after!

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Sorry about what happen to your child. I do not think you should blame your husband. I don’t know where you are from but where i am from you are not allowed to leave the hospital if your water breaks. As soon as it breaks it is 911 emergency and they tell you that you must come in. Once your are in the hospital you have to stay until baby is born. They should have never sent you home!!! When your water breaks so many infections can happen. After a certain amount of time they will induce you or perform a c-section. When i did my internship in labor and delivery this was standard. I really found it weird that they sent you home.


    • I would not allow them to deliver me because my water broke at 19 weeks 2 days. My child would have certainly died had he been delivered that day. I decided to take the risk of infection in hopes that my child might live.


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