What to do when you reach breaking point

Break down or break away?

You see her tiny, wriggling toes, her fingers curling easily over yours. Gazing into the eyes of your newborn, all you can do is drown in wonderment. You had not known until this moment, this moment suffused with her milky scent, that joy of this kind, this feeling of an unbridled surge of love washing over you, existed. Everything up until this moment, the fights, the beatings, the vicious loop of pain that life had turned into, everything, you are certain now, was worth it. Everything in this Universe has conspired to bring you here, so you can gaze at this living, breathing miracle you created. The look on his face reflects more of the same, the same incredulous disbelief.

But then you come off the high. Reality sets in. You breastfeed, he changes diapers. You check if her nappy is wet, he gets her ready for her bath. Your friends marvel at the excited new Daddy who is a goldmine of information on baby creams and noisily supports breastfeeding. How lucky you are! They declare, their voices lightly laced with envy. You smile knowingly. You are used to this. As soon as the babbling visitors leave, your inane smiles disappear. He lets go of your hand because he no longer has to remind you to keep the damn smile up.

You feel safe in the hospital, surrounded by nurses, helping you breastfeed, showing him how to bathe the baby. The giggling nurse tells you how she wishes her husband would show some interest in bathing their babies, sighing. You giggle with her, unable to stand the simpering smile on his face. You close your eyes pretending to sleep, hoping she leaves soon. You don’t have to pretend to be happy-happy-joy-joy when you’re asleep.

You return home, laden with baby clothes, baby toys, pacifiers. He goes on a babyproofing spree. But how does one spouse-proof oneself? You wonder.

When you make mistakes with the formula or you fall asleep when he comes back from work hungry, the smacking starts again. He does it out of his love for you, you know that. He always apologizes and then takes you out for dinner. What more could you want? At restaurants, you meet with friends who swoon over your luck at landing such a romantic husband. And a bonny baby. What more do you want?

You watch your little miracle grow. She is the only one you can cry to. You see how your crying makes her cry and then you decide you better stick with the bathroom mirror. But she always knows.

When your heart heaves, she crawls over to you, black curls and squeals, and placing a pudgy hand on your cheek, coos to you, making you smile despite yourself. These are the moments when you take her in your arms, holding on to her for dear life, praying that you do not go over the edge of sanity. For her sake.

Once you become a mother, something changes. You don’t notice it in those initial sleepless days and nights of breastfeeding and diaper-changing. But you begin to notice that you don’t take the shoves lightly anymore. You find you want to stand up. You talk back. And then you pay the price for thinking anything has changed. The man of the house remains the man of the house.

Why does the doormat wish to become anything else?

Maybe pregnancy changes the way you think. Maybe seeing her makes you want to become the best human being you can be. For her sake. Seeing her look up to you like you are everything that is good in this world, and knowing inside you that you most definitely are not — he tells you that every day — makes you wish, makes you think.

This seeing makes you start putting a little away, knowing that he would hurt you, hurt you very badly if he ever found out. It makes you take detours when you take her out to the park and look up shelters. It makes you Google “what to do when your husband beats you” and then you realize there are others out there, exactly like you. You realize you are not alone.

You know he would ban the computer if he ever found out. You know he would stop your allowance if he knew. But even in the always-present fear, there is joy, a joy that only she understands, that she and you giggle about when he isn’t around.

You worry of course, that you will regret it. You watch him caressing her, hands that are so gentle with his child. You wonder why that tenderness vanishes when he sees you. You wonder how this is possible. You wonder if it really is your fault. He has no doubt about it.

But one look into her eyes and you know. You know.

So, you choose what you want to take with you. You need to take Tigger and her favorite bedtime book. But you need to pack light. You can’t put away so much that he suspects. You can’t carry too much. Not with a baby. Not with all the baby stuff you’ll need. You open up to friends. Only the ones who have no way of telling him, of course. Your friends tell you of lawyers. You realize leaving will not end anything. It will only be the beginning. The beginning of a battle with him and you wonder if you will be able to bear it.

But one look into her eyes.

And you know.