Chapter 3

Before we left the hospital, a nurse came up to us and asked if we wanted to do a paternity test to split custody. She said it would cost $500. We didn't have that money, so she said if I was sure I was the father, that I could sign a paternity affidavit. This would allow me to be the father on the birth certificate and for my son to have my last name. She told me that I would not have any custody rights though until paternity was legally established. I figured this was not a problem and I signed the paperwork. This was second worst split-decision I had ever made. She had 100% custody and that meant she had all the responsibility, or, if she wanted to, have a very powerful weapon to hurt me. How do you think this plays out?

We left the hospital 2 days later, and went back to the trailer. Now that our son was born, gran was not thinking about kicking me out anymore. Everything had changed overnight.

That thing Ralph had been working on was a complete remodel of our room into a nice room with blue (boy) colors and a basinet. It was very nice and had the words "Never go to sleep without kissing me goodnight" above his bed. My son was perfect and this was a perfect gift to us, even though Ralph was always doing us terribly. I forgave him for all the “before”, but then, just as before, it all started up again.

Lucy started having friends over and starting becoming really lazy. She was addicted to Facebook and whenever we would get into an argument, she would passively aggressively post comments that were ridiculous just to piss me off, saying that nobody knows that she is talking about me. EVERYONE knew she was talking bad about me publicly. I began to despise her.

I took care of my son. I never EVER asked her to do anything for him. Whatever situation came up, I handled right then and there. She, on the other hand, would ask me to change his diaper, feed him, get him dressed, wake up and take care of him (even though I worked 12 hour days) and do literally everything for him. Me. Not only these things, but I would constantly come home to a dirty house. It got very tiring and eventually I just had enough.

The problem was this: ever since she moved in with gran when she was 14, she had been pampered, princess-ified, and so she had no responsibility. I had hoped as our relationship progressed that she would see that the real word requires that we not be lazy, but of course, that was never the case. It got way worse after our son was born. Plus, gran got a disability check each month, and would give her about $400 of it no matter what. It was terrible.

Finally, that aunt from New York came out to visit us saying that she wanted to meet my son. When she got there, she had an ounce of weed meet her at our doorstep via UPS. We smoked for a couple of days, but then, she started being very stingy and taking up space at our home. I was getting badmouthed again, and so, one day, I went into work, told them that I needed to switch shifts and start cooking because everything was taking a toll on me in life, and I need a break from the public. My work agreed, put me on a duel schedule, serve this day, and cook this day. This caused tax problems though, so I wasn't making as much as I should of. This was the final straw.

I had about $200. I went home, told Lucy that I had had enough, and that I was going to take the car, the $200 and I was going to head south. I wanted to move us somewhere fresh. A new start. The truth was, I needed to get her out of her comfort zone because I was exhausted from the constant abuse and the mental/physical strain of shouldering all of the responsibility, I was sick of my state and it was time to make a move.

I called my work, told them I couldn't work anymore, that I was having a breakdown, packed up the crossover,