Maternity Leave.

My mother arrived.
I had asked everyone to allow me a week with the baby before visitors arrived but I was overridden by everyone, including Matt. I love my mom and we are very, very close, but I knew that things would be dicey and I didn't want the additional strain of her presence in the home. Predictably, Matt blew up at her about 3 days after I went home from hospital because she had cooked pork chops for dinner and EVERYONE KNOWS HE ONLY LIKES HAM!!!! Again, I was humiliated by his reckless disregard for other people's feelings and efforts. I begged my mom to leave to avoid further conflict. She did, but with a worried look in her eye.

The next week, Matt came home from work and screamed at me because the dishwasher wasn't empty. Now, I was less than two weeks postpartum, and I had cooked every meal for the two of us since my mom left, and he was upset because, in his words, "When I get home from work I expect that dinner will be ready and the dishwasher emptied!" This from a man who regularly left dirty glasses and plates on the counter, never emptied the dishwasher and had...increasingly questionable hygiene practices. And to my great discredit, I did not tell him to go properly fuck himself, but instead apologized for the dishwasher.

The following weeks were a blur of temper tantrums and quiet. His sister and her partner and four children came to visit. Matt verbally attacked his ten year old niece, inciting the standard Eakin family drama wherein people make threats, pack up to leave, yell scream, pull people aside to tell scintillating tidbits. My daughter was four weeks old, I was attempting to get Easter dinner for ten people on the table and literally no one was helping me. The sister was angry because she hadn't gotten to take a walk yet but I had and this was so unfair to HER. Matt didn't want to take our planned outing to Stone Mountain Park because it was warm and he wanted to wear shorts but his legs were pale and he thought his sister would be ashamed of him for this. The sister's partner wanted to beat Matt up for having yelled at the niece and the niece was literally clinging to me in abject terror. I found nursing increasingly difficult, and Matt began lecturing me that I ought to be more like his sister (a veritable dairy cow), who at the time was so hopped up on the Adderal he had given her that she could barely stand still. Nonetheless, I got a nice dinner on the table and they cleaned up their acts enough to sit and eat.

The next week Matt's mother visited. Matt had begun working from home at that point, and yet deemed it appropriate/necessary that I pick up his mom from the airport. Fine. In the process of asking her about her flight, I mentioned that I preferred to fly (as she had) through Charlotte because so often the evening flights through Philadelphia on the return leg are cancelled. Well, she was returning through Philly and this information threw her into a tailspin. I assured her that her noon flight from Philly to Salisbury was not in danger, and that only the last flight of the day (an 8 o'clock) gets cancelled. She was already gone. To say that her drama about her return flight occupied 50% of our time and energy over the next week is not an exaggeration. Incredibly, she was also insisting that Matt be the one to fix her flight/change it. Finally he tried, but was unable. The only thing the airline recommended was getting to the airport early and asking at check-in to see if they could change her to the Charlotte layover.

I planned to have my hair cut and colored during the week his mother was there. This is a process that can take several hours and that I enjoy very much. I love the ambiance of a salon, how hairdressers find beauty in everyone, I love their funky alternative style, the tattoos and piercings, skintight black clothes on imperfect figures, the clubby feel of the place and the music blasting that I am not cool enough to know. About an hour into the appointment Matt started blowing up my phone. He wanted me back and he wanted me back NOW. He had a contract he wanted me to review for his business and he by-god expected me to do it before close of business! I left the salon with my hair still wet. At some point that afternoon I took Olivia from his mother because I wanted to hold her and to nurse. It's pretty typical that grandmothers--particularly paternal grandmother's--are reluctant to let go of a baby, and so a new mother has to be a bit assertive. It's not a big deal, and I was not offended by her behavior, but when I wanted to hold my baby I took her. The weird thing about the interaction was Matt's delight. He thought is hilarious and awesome that I had asserted myself in this way, and took as much or more delight in his mother's being "overridden" by me. I didn't see my behavior in that light but he surely did. It was weird.

Matt's mom offered to take us out to dinner one night while she was there. I had, of course, been cooking all the meals, had been assigned the bookkeeping for Matt's business and also marketing/sales/business development. He insisted that since I wasn't working (12 week maternity leave from the firm) I needed to work for him. Also, he said that I had insisted he move the business into the house, but this was categorically untrue; he had decided to move the files into the house because he no longer trusted his business partner, or maybe it was the partner's secretary? I forget which. Anyway, she could see we were really stressed and wanted to help. Matt hemmed and hawed. Finally he blew up at his mom, screaming at her that he couldn't go to dinner because he didn't have anything to wear. When she tried to point out that the polo shirt and jeans he was wearing for fine he blew up again, and then she started screaming at him that he was a terrible person. All of this was done at full volume. I was stunned and horrified. After his mom ran downstairs to get away from him, I started to talk to Matt. I tried to soothe him and, I must admit, persuade him to go out. He started insulting me and yelling at me derisively. I don't recall the words but I recall crying, which I rarely do. I begged him to stop yelling to stop being angry. I remember telling  him exactly this, "Matt, please, stop! I am crying now, but I am really afraid that if you don't stop being angry that I am going to stop crying. I am going to shut down, Matt and I don't want to do that. It will kill our relationship if I go into autopilot. I need you to let me be safe with you, emotionally!" His response, "Oh, you put up with your Tyler's abuse for ten years but I only get a few months?!" The baby woke up, and I went upstairs to see to her.

At the end of the week of his mother's stay, my parents were to be driving through town and would visit. My dad had not yet met Olivia. Matt's mom was staying in our guest room, and my parents were staying in their motor home 20 minutes away. They came over for dinner. Matt's mom had offered to watch the baby that night so that Matt and I could go out. She was going to sleep with the baby in the bassinet next to her, and encouraged us to have fun. We did, and the only thing "off" about the night, was Matt's insistence that I "must" fantasize about having sex with two guys at a time. I was able to assure him that is not the case, but the moment was frightening because it was veering into that territory where he starts assigning me sexual partners and acts out of his imagination.

When we returned at 2 in the morning, my parents were sitting up with the baby and Matt's mom had gone to bed. I was mortified. They could not have been more gracious.

The next day his mother made an utter debacle of her return trip. She checked into one flight, then talked the gate agent into getting on another, and so her luggage was on one flight going through Philly but she was going through Charlotte, and since she wouldn't check in to the connecting flight in Philly, her luggage would remain there. But it took several hours and numerous calls to parse this out, as communication is not her strong point. She called me approximately 8 times, insisting that I "fix" this, and telling me that it was my responsibility to do so because she was in this fix because I had scared her with the story about the flights from Philly being cancelled. She was obviously scared, and I chalked up her name calling and accusations to her fear. I was calm and respectful, telling her over and over that I needed to understand the problem to be helpful. I spent hours on the phone with Delta, getting things strait. Finally, miraculously, it was over. She was back at home "No thanks to you, Marianna." I had brunch with my parents, a lovely respite from the chaos. Livvie was turning 6 weeks old the next day.

The next weekend one of my dearest friends was coming to town from an hour away to see the baby, and I planned on asking her to be Livvie's godmother. this was something Matt and I had discussed and I had carefully planed. Two friends had dropped by at my invitation to meet the baby, and Matt had retreated upstairs each time, refusing to interact. Afterwards, he would read me the riot act for having people over without consulting him. I had assumed he would be working, as it was the workday, and most of what he did was "in the field." So on the Saturday morning of Dee's visit, I was up early and working on the books for Matt's business. He was surfing the Internet from the couch, his feet propped up on the leather ottoman that served as coffee table and footrest. It was a beautiful piece, about three feet square and on casters. I got a text from Dee that she was leaving the house at 9. I got up from the table where I was working and walked into the family room, standing in front of Matt with the baby in my arms and the ottoman between us. I said to him cautiously, "So, I just got a text from Dee. She's on her way and will be here in about an hour and a half." He growled in frustration and kicked the ottoman into my legs, hard, flounced up off the couch and ran upstairs to get get dressed. I was in shock.

He left the house and returned an hour later, loaded up with goodies from Whole Foods: sandwiches and such to snack on during Dee's visit. Then he said he was leaving, and that he would be back in the afternoon. Later that afternoon I got a call from him that he wanted to take us out to dinner, along with his business partner and wife, at my favorite restaurant, Cafe Lily. Great! He sounded like himself again, cheerful and social and ready to have a good time. He was even going to pay!

We arrived at dinner and ordered drinks. The baby was sleeping in her car seat like an angel. We had ordered dinner and were two sips into our cocktails when he blew. My friend, Dee, a woman 20 years my senior and possessing the very best qualities of her Philadelphia Jewish/Italian Catholic background, had patted his leg and said, "Now I need to be sure you are going to take good care of my Marianna!" Matt jumped to his feet, started yelling at her that she was a nosy bitch and how dare she question his manhood, and nearly tipped over the table in his anger as he stalked out of the restaurant. The business partner, his wife, Dee and I looked at each other in shock. Then we started to talk. Matt had dated his business partner's daughter (that's how he met his partner, and the reason the partner was funding Matt's business) and so he had some perspective on Matt. They shared that Matt had behaved similarly with their daughter, and very compassionately explained that Matt was just sensitive and insecure and because his dad was dead he didn't have anyone to teach him how to be a man. The business partner practically blamed himself for not being a better father figure to Matt. I share this to describe just how vested everyone around Matt was in supporting him, justifying his atrocious behavior and in giving him yet another undeserved chance. We all did it. We all believed in him and gave him chance after chance.

Matt returned to the restaurant forced another patron to bring his car keys to our table (he had driven his partner and wife and they had no vehicle to get home). Then he showed up at the table again anyway, yelled at Dee some more, yelled at me for not following him when he left and told me I was a terrible and disloyal wife (for not dragging my 7 weeks old baby out in the rain to chase him down) and left again. At that time, the restaurant manager came over and gently told me that Matt was not welcome in the restaurant going forward. With tears in his eyes he apologized, and told me that I was always welcome, and that he knew I had been a loyal patron for 10 years, always bringing my parents in when they visited, but that Matt had behaved "this way" in there before (I had no idea) and they wouldn't serve him again. I assured him I understood and, mortified, paid the bill and left.

Later that evening, at around 1 am, I got a call from Matt. He asked me to come pick him up from a bar about a mile from our house. I got the baby in the carrier and drove there. I performed an illegal u-turn to pick him up. Also, one of headlights was out on my car (Aside: this is an example of how much my life was a catch-22 at the time, and how pervasive his meanness was. He had insisted that he be the one to fix the headlight b/c it's "man's work", although I could and wanted to replace the damned bulb. Typical Matt he had not actually fixed it and it had been out since before Livvie was born. I was terrified of fixing anything because he'd freak out, but compromised because he couldn't organize himself enough to get the bulb and figure out the assembly). So, in short, I was pulled over shortly after he got in the car. The officer gave me a warning, taking pity on the new mom with a tiny infant and an obviously drunk husband.

As I drove home, shaken from the night's activities, I hit a speed bump a little hard. Matt's switch  flipped. He began screaming at me that I was a horrible driver, and that I was endangering the baby. He started punching. He punched the dashboard, me, and finally the windshield. Over and over he hit the windshield until it burst into a spiderweb of fractured glass. I pulled into the garage, got the baby out and wordlessly went upstairs to the bedroom where i closed and locked the door, sitting on the bed with the phone in my hand, baby in the bassinet. I was in shock. What should I do? Matt knocked on the door. I told him I needed some time to calm down, and to go away. He started getting angry. I told him I was terrified, to please go. Something crashed into the door and his footsteps retreated down the stairs. I opened the door to find he had demolished one of my Wedgwood plates against the door. He had brought me a "peace offering" of cookies (that Dee had brought to me that day) and was angry at being rebuffed.

He heard the door open and stormed back up the stairs, dragging me into the bedroom by my left arm. I was still clutching my phone like a lifeline in my right hand, tucking that arm protectively around my body. He saw my phone and tried to take it. Instinctively, I drew back. He tried to punch me in the face but I turned and he hit the side of my head. I inexplicably laughed at him. He threw me into the wall where I bounced onto the floor, the phone slipping from my hand. He dove on top of me, grabbed my phone, twisted and hurled it against the wall where it exploded into pieces, one of them landing in Livvie's bassinet. I went limp. Every instinct in me said, "play dead and he'll go away." He did exactly that. He got up, got into bed and fell asleep. After a few minutes I got up, too. I began looking for pieces of my phone, hoping to salvage it. I got the baby and crept downstairs. On my way, I noticed a red light flashing: Matt's phone. I took it, locked myself and the baby and the cat and Matt's dog in the first floor bedroom. I called 911.