Cracks where one story starts and another begins.
Cracks where I have pushed a memory so deep inside me that it is hard to recall. But it is there, waiting patiently until I am ready.
Day three of being left by him I got myself to the doctors.
I was a mess, I had not slept in days, I had not eaten in days and all I could do was sob uncontrollably.
He was kind and immediately gave the guidance that I so desperately needed.
Since I had yet to tell most of the people in my life, he encouraged me to reach out..... the help I was going to need with apple beyond important.
I needed rest, and I needed to eat.
I could handle most of that.
It was rational.
I could still be rational. I just needed a plan.
We put a plan in place for the next few and agreed to meet up the next week.
It was going to be ok.
When I stood up to leave... he quickly with one hand on my shoulder sat me back down.
Looking me dead in the eyes, he said " you are both going to need to be tested for stds"
I shrugged it off and told him, " I will, but you will have to talk to him about getting one for himself"
"No, not him he said... Apple. You will have to get Apple tested for aids. She was breast fed"
A whole new kind of rage filled up inside me.
It was never something that crossed my mind.
Ever.
I fought him on it.
I rejected the very thought of it.
No, No way would I do this to her.
No way would I put my baby... my beautiful 9 month of baby girl through this.
But he reasoned with me. He explained to me that it was what was best for her, that without question it would need to be done.
I told no one.
I said nothing.
But we went.
I held my daughter down for more than 4 minutes while they drew the deepest purple color blood I have ever seen.
It took 4 minutes.
4 minutes that felt like 6 hours.
She screamed and cried and stared at me with her big worried eyes.
She would try to them stop by rolling on to her tummy and reaching out for me... all the while I could do nothing but hold her down.
It killed me.
I put my head next to hers and told her over and over again how sorry I was.
I promised her .... that this moment would be her worst.
That everything after this would be better, everything after this would be ok.
When they were finished we sat together on the chair.
I stroked her hair, and she slowly settled.... when she became calm enough to get back home
I put her in her car seat and sat in the parking lot of the medical clinic and sobbed.
Our tests came back clear of any problems.... and for that I am grateful.
Those 4 moments broke something in me that will never be fixed.
They changed me.
But those 4 moments also gave me the strength I needed to complete the rest of the journey,
To keep the promise to her.
"That moment" will be her worst.
