Decided to post this here, and not fuck up another thread.
Texanbychoice posted that he and his wife just miscarried in the Dad Thread over in Daily Texan. It sparked a memory. (BTW, TBC, I'm really very sorry for your loss)
Shortly after arriving in theater for my 2012-2013 deployment, just after Thanksgiving, my ex informed me she was pregnant. I was very excited. It would have been our second child. The birth would have been just barely before the full time of my deployment, so I would have been sent home maybe 2 weeks early, so no real changes were necessary at that time. I was excited as hell. I was going to be a Daddy again.
About 4-5 weeks later, she told me that she miscarried. I was devastated. I was able to get on with the deployment in a fairly short time, but I was hurt bad.
It's pretty clear, with the gift of hindsight, that she drank and pilled my child to death. She couldn't control her need for the substances and killed my child. She murdered my child.
Fairly obvious, but I'm not dealing with this well. Not even a bit.
I've turned off my phone and taken the battery out. I don't have any booze in the house, so I can't take advantage of the lowered inhibitions to call the ex and scream at that bitch. But motherfucker, do I want to. Bad. I want that bitch to feel every bit of my pain right now. I want her to suffer. I want her to suffer the way she made my child suffer.
I did the only two things I could do:
1. I held it together, and I hugged my daughter extra tight as I put her to bed. And then I hugged her again, and told her I loved her with all my heart and how I'm so glad that she's in my world. I told her that her happiness is my happiness. And then I hugged her again.
2. I'm typing it here, and leaving it. And praying it helps the pain abate.
She killed my child. Maybe my baby son. Maybe my baby daughter.
I know there is another possibility: That she was lying about being pregnant in a vain hope that I might get released from the deployment. And when she saw that it wasn't going to work she ended the charade by telling me she miscarried. So that being a possibility, the manipulative alcoholic bitch went out of her way to let me believe that I was going to be a Daddy, and then to let me believe my baby had died. I'm not sure if that's better or not.
God damn her for that. Damn her straight to hell.