In my last semester of my undergrad, I took a required gym class. Aquatics. I was certain that this class would offer stimulation that I craved as a student and young man. Stimulate, it did.
She was tall and thin. Blonde hair that framed her face, and sometimes hid her eyes, giving me the opportunity to sneak a glance at her in her two piece that was utterly...stimulating. She was a model, and was just as tall (ok, she was taller) as me. With some recent bodybuilding accomplishments, and a few workouts behind me, I wasn't looking so bad in a bathing suit at the time either, and if anyone in the class had a shot at the model, it was me. With the ego I carried around, I had no problem asking her out, and she had little hesitation in accepting my invitation.
We went to a bar, then to a scary movie, and then back to the bar. She smelled amazing, and toting her around on my arm was a great thing for a guy with an ego the size of Texas. Talking late into the night, and making out in her Mazda Miata had me skipping to my front door when she dropped me off.
Our first outing turned into afternoon hikes, evening coffee, chicken fight partners in aquatics, and of course many sleep-overs. A few months later, my friends got used to seeing her around, and also got used to seeing less of me.
In one month I would graduate, and leave Bloomsburg University. North Carolina was set in my sights, and there was nothing standing in the way of that. A runway model that made my genitals swell was certainly not enough to put my life off course. That is until she dropped the bomb.
We were at a coffee shop on main street and I was pretending to eat a chocolate lava cake. Still obsessed with my body, I would not go near anything like it. But I was drinking a cappucino from a boot shaped mug. (like most of my stories, I digress)
"I am pregnant," she said.
I don't remember much of the conversation that night. I do however remember my thoughts. Of course I thought about what it would be like to have a child. Is that something I was ready for? How in the hell could I afford that? Would we give him up for adoption? Will I ever see him if we do? Should we have an abortion? The most difficult part was not knowing what her preferred option was. This wasn't like choosing a value meal at McDonalds, although that can be very difficult. Unlike Micky D's, this decision made would certainly change our lives forever.
We decided to have the baby. I started reading books on pregnancy, magazines for mothers, memoirs of pregnant women, and going to doctors appointments and seeing much more than I had bargained for. I picked out names, color schemes, read books to her belly, sang songs to the unborn baby, and rubbed lotion all over her to help prevent stretch marks.
I had to leave for North Carolina. When I did, I had no place to live, and spent 2 months living on a couch in the coaches locker room of Kenan Stadium. Working my ass off daily, I managed to get an apartment, and move my pregnant girlfriend down with me. Upon her arrival, we quickly got a doctor, and picked up our routine of singing, reading, preparing, and celebrating what was to come. By now we knew, it was a boy, and his name would be Cary Jude. The color scheme, still undecided.
The pregnancy went well, and before we knew it, November was here, and she was in labor. I had packed a bag for her the week before, and snuck snacks, treats, and presents for my baby boy. An outfit for the new mother, an outfit for the young dude, and of course made a checklist of important items for this event. They were all accounted for, and we were as ready as we could be.
8 hours later, Cary Jude was born. I cried, she cried, he wailed. When she held him with my arms around the both of them, the world outside of that hospital room no longer existed. He was beautiful. I was instantly in love, and couldn't stop kissing him.
I changed diapers, and fed him when it was time. We took baths together and he peed on me often. Most nights I would wake up and walk over to look at him. I would run out of work on breaks to give him a kiss and his laugh was the most wonderful sound I have ever heard. His toothless smile just kiled me. He started crawling, and terrorizing everything in his wake. A little blonde hair, blue eyed terror with his moms legs. We went to the pool, and on walks at night. He loved my impressions, and thought "Uncle Hulkster", my alter ego, was hillarious.
As the summer came to an end, it was truly the best I had ever had. I was a father, and my whole life had meaning. That is until the other shoe dropped.
"Cary Jude is not your child", she said.
What came next was certainly another life changing event. She explained that she had slept with her ex-boyfriend, and it was probable that Cary Jude was his child, not mine. I demanded testing, and infact it was true. She had kept up this lie since conception. I was sick. The child that I had raised, and nurtured through pregnancy, birth, and the first 9 months of life, was not biologically mine. I was completely devastated, but my first reaction was to work this out for the sake of my child.
I tried to stay with her, but carried more resentment than I could ever express in print. There were days that I could not stand to be in the same room. I hated the sight of her, and as much as it pains me to admit, I often resented Cary Jude too. That doesn't mean that I did not love him just the same, he was still the #1 priority for me, but somehow, the most perfect being in the world was now tainted.
After a month of reflection and thought, therapy and xanax, tears and sleepless nights, I packed thier belongings into a truck and sent it to her fathers house. I bought a one way ticket to Philadelphia with a "child in lap" note and stopped by on a not so extraordinary day. We drove to the airport quiet and I watched them go through security. She cried the whole time, and Cary laughed. He chewed on a yellow dump truck while going through security, and I watched them disappear while riding up the escalator. This would be the last time I would ever see them.
Returning to my car, I lost the strength to stand. Falling into my car seat I wept in the drivers seat of my family SUV for what must have been an hour. When I pulled myself together enough to drive the 20 minutes home, walking into our apartment I would succum to the pain of what had just happened. This went on for months. Daily therapy, many pills, and thoughts of what-if plagued me. During this time in my life, I clung to my therapist, and do not think that I would be writing this if it weren't for him. He was the only friend I had. Even though I paid him, I didn't care. Truly a dark period in my life.
When I left Kim and Cary at the RDU international airport, I did not speak with either of them for over 4 years, but as I recently exited the Bolt bus at Madison Square Garden, I turned and saw Kim, Cary, Kim's husband (ex-boyfriend/Cary's father), and Cary's little brother. I couldn't believe my eyes, and had a short acward conversation with the young family. Cary had no clue who I was, and had his name changed to Jude. I do not know his last name.
When I walked away this time, the feelings were much different. Still to this day, not one goes by that I do not think about Cary Jude, the decision to leave them, and how things might be different had a chosen another way. I am still struggling with decision, much like many others, and will likely struggle with it forever.
I take away lessons in love, and lessons in life. What I did was neither right, nor wrong. It was what I needed to do at that time and I still miss Cary Jude.
lincoln
She was tall and thin. Blonde hair that framed her face, and sometimes hid her eyes, giving me the opportunity to sneak a glance at her in her two piece that was utterly...stimulating. She was a model, and was just as tall (ok, she was taller) as me. With some recent bodybuilding accomplishments, and a few workouts behind me, I wasn't looking so bad in a bathing suit at the time either, and if anyone in the class had a shot at the model, it was me. With the ego I carried around, I had no problem asking her out, and she had little hesitation in accepting my invitation.
We went to a bar, then to a scary movie, and then back to the bar. She smelled amazing, and toting her around on my arm was a great thing for a guy with an ego the size of Texas. Talking late into the night, and making out in her Mazda Miata had me skipping to my front door when she dropped me off.
Our first outing turned into afternoon hikes, evening coffee, chicken fight partners in aquatics, and of course many sleep-overs. A few months later, my friends got used to seeing her around, and also got used to seeing less of me.
In one month I would graduate, and leave Bloomsburg University. North Carolina was set in my sights, and there was nothing standing in the way of that. A runway model that made my genitals swell was certainly not enough to put my life off course. That is until she dropped the bomb.
We were at a coffee shop on main street and I was pretending to eat a chocolate lava cake. Still obsessed with my body, I would not go near anything like it. But I was drinking a cappucino from a boot shaped mug. (like most of my stories, I digress)
"I am pregnant," she said.
I don't remember much of the conversation that night. I do however remember my thoughts. Of course I thought about what it would be like to have a child. Is that something I was ready for? How in the hell could I afford that? Would we give him up for adoption? Will I ever see him if we do? Should we have an abortion? The most difficult part was not knowing what her preferred option was. This wasn't like choosing a value meal at McDonalds, although that can be very difficult. Unlike Micky D's, this decision made would certainly change our lives forever.
We decided to have the baby. I started reading books on pregnancy, magazines for mothers, memoirs of pregnant women, and going to doctors appointments and seeing much more than I had bargained for. I picked out names, color schemes, read books to her belly, sang songs to the unborn baby, and rubbed lotion all over her to help prevent stretch marks.
I had to leave for North Carolina. When I did, I had no place to live, and spent 2 months living on a couch in the coaches locker room of Kenan Stadium. Working my ass off daily, I managed to get an apartment, and move my pregnant girlfriend down with me. Upon her arrival, we quickly got a doctor, and picked up our routine of singing, reading, preparing, and celebrating what was to come. By now we knew, it was a boy, and his name would be Cary Jude. The color scheme, still undecided.
The pregnancy went well, and before we knew it, November was here, and she was in labor. I had packed a bag for her the week before, and snuck snacks, treats, and presents for my baby boy. An outfit for the new mother, an outfit for the young dude, and of course made a checklist of important items for this event. They were all accounted for, and we were as ready as we could be.
8 hours later, Cary Jude was born. I cried, she cried, he wailed. When she held him with my arms around the both of them, the world outside of that hospital room no longer existed. He was beautiful. I was instantly in love, and couldn't stop kissing him.
I changed diapers, and fed him when it was time. We took baths together and he peed on me often. Most nights I would wake up and walk over to look at him. I would run out of work on breaks to give him a kiss and his laugh was the most wonderful sound I have ever heard. His toothless smile just kiled me. He started crawling, and terrorizing everything in his wake. A little blonde hair, blue eyed terror with his moms legs. We went to the pool, and on walks at night. He loved my impressions, and thought "Uncle Hulkster", my alter ego, was hillarious.
As the summer came to an end, it was truly the best I had ever had. I was a father, and my whole life had meaning. That is until the other shoe dropped.
"Cary Jude is not your child", she said.
What came next was certainly another life changing event. She explained that she had slept with her ex-boyfriend, and it was probable that Cary Jude was his child, not mine. I demanded testing, and infact it was true. She had kept up this lie since conception. I was sick. The child that I had raised, and nurtured through pregnancy, birth, and the first 9 months of life, was not biologically mine. I was completely devastated, but my first reaction was to work this out for the sake of my child.
I tried to stay with her, but carried more resentment than I could ever express in print. There were days that I could not stand to be in the same room. I hated the sight of her, and as much as it pains me to admit, I often resented Cary Jude too. That doesn't mean that I did not love him just the same, he was still the #1 priority for me, but somehow, the most perfect being in the world was now tainted.
After a month of reflection and thought, therapy and xanax, tears and sleepless nights, I packed thier belongings into a truck and sent it to her fathers house. I bought a one way ticket to Philadelphia with a "child in lap" note and stopped by on a not so extraordinary day. We drove to the airport quiet and I watched them go through security. She cried the whole time, and Cary laughed. He chewed on a yellow dump truck while going through security, and I watched them disappear while riding up the escalator. This would be the last time I would ever see them.
Returning to my car, I lost the strength to stand. Falling into my car seat I wept in the drivers seat of my family SUV for what must have been an hour. When I pulled myself together enough to drive the 20 minutes home, walking into our apartment I would succum to the pain of what had just happened. This went on for months. Daily therapy, many pills, and thoughts of what-if plagued me. During this time in my life, I clung to my therapist, and do not think that I would be writing this if it weren't for him. He was the only friend I had. Even though I paid him, I didn't care. Truly a dark period in my life.
When I left Kim and Cary at the RDU international airport, I did not speak with either of them for over 4 years, but as I recently exited the Bolt bus at Madison Square Garden, I turned and saw Kim, Cary, Kim's husband (ex-boyfriend/Cary's father), and Cary's little brother. I couldn't believe my eyes, and had a short acward conversation with the young family. Cary had no clue who I was, and had his name changed to Jude. I do not know his last name.
When I walked away this time, the feelings were much different. Still to this day, not one goes by that I do not think about Cary Jude, the decision to leave them, and how things might be different had a chosen another way. I am still struggling with decision, much like many others, and will likely struggle with it forever.
I take away lessons in love, and lessons in life. What I did was neither right, nor wrong. It was what I needed to do at that time and I still miss Cary Jude.
lincoln
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