“Opposite Sides of the Tracks”- Yvonne’s RJN-Chapter 6

After we got married, what I hoped would happen, did in fact happen. Ian and I lived in our bubble, enjoying each other’s company, and occasionally socializing with friends and family, but mostly, it was just the two of us. It was bliss and it was peaceful.

I heaped all my love and affection on him because I had no one else to give it to. When we met both of us agreed on one thing, no children! We did not advertise this and to be honest I cannot even think that the conversation came up much after we made the decision. We knew that his parents wanted to become grandparents and we heard everyone jokingly ask: “So, when is the first pink foot coming?” It was still assumed that after marriage, children would follow soon. We said as little as possible and I think that after a while they stopped asking because they thought there was something wrong with one of us. We were good with them thinking that, because then we did not have to feel awkward about answering. We never told anyone that we did not want children because we sort of knew that this was taboo. If you get married, you have to have children.

Why Ian did not want children, I don’t know. Thinking back I knew he was vocal before we got married about babies drooling and stinking, but that was just a joke. I was just happy to find someone that shared my feelings in this, the “why” did not really matter to me.

I thought I had very good reason for not wanting children, and it really was not because I was being selfish, it was all because I did not want to bring a child into a world I could not protect them from. This world was cruel and I had first-hand experience and I could not wrap them up in cotton, and not let them get hurt or be hurt.

Ian and I could not have grown up differently. I hinted earlier that my mother raised me and my siblings alone. She actually divorced my dad when I was about 3 years old. Yes, she divorced him and I don’t judge her for that because I know that all she could think about were her 5 children and how she wanted them to grow up.

To paint you the whole picture, I am going to divulge some of my secrets that I don’t easily share with others. It took me a while to even tell my best friend about some of the things that happened to me when I grew up. Almost no one knew until a few years before I started writing my novel, not even my husband, Ian knew! Yes, you can read that sentence again to make sure you have it right. Ian married me, knowing that my dad passed away when I was in high school and that I grew up with my mom alone, but he never really knew the reason for, and he never pushed me about it either. That was one of the nice things about Ian, he had this philosophy in life that was convenient but at the same time frustrating . He said, “If you don’t tell me, you don’t want me to know. I have no reason to ask.”

This is very funny because I am the total opposite. He also joked and said, “Yvonne, you can spend five minutes with someone I have known for years and you would know more about them than I do.” So here I am going to tell you things that Ian did not even know about me. I am not going to dwell on them as I know that as some of you are reading this, you went through much worse as children.

My father was an alcoholic. I could never remember a time he did not have a drinking problem. There would be months where he would go without drinking and then suddenly it just started up again. My dad was never abusive to any of us when he was drunk, even sober he never even scolded us. I remember a story I heard as a young child that my dad one day spanked my sister for something she did and ended up crying with her.

Punishment was my mom’s area and whether my dad was drinking or not, he was the joker. The problem with his drinking was not that he was abusive in any way, it was more about the extent to which he would go for his next drink. Much like a drug addict, he would take things from the house and sell them for his next drink. He would of course be extremely irritating and embarrassing when he was drunk but if we were rich, maybe my mom would have tolerated it more, but because we grew up poor, it was not a habit that we could afford.

My dad would get a good job because he was excellent at what he did. He was an electrician and a very good one, but not the type of job you can show up to drunk, right? Every job opportunity would only last a few months; he would be out of work and my mom’s income would be all we have to rely on. And then when my dad did not have income anymore, this would be when he would start selling things in the house and it would invoke huge arguments to the point that my mom would chase my dad out of the house.

This would be a pattern that was repeated in my house even after my mom and dad got divorced. My mom of course loved my dad and every time he would show up at the house sober and thin with nowhere to go, she would take him in, feed him, clean him up, and allow him to stay with us. I remember her telling him one day, “You don’t have to work, you can just stay home and be a stay-at-home dad. All I ask is one thing—that you don’t drink” Of course, he agreed but couldn’t keep his word and he would start drinking again. It would be a rinse and repeat every few months while growing up.

I don’t know what pushed my mom over the edge, but one day she just refused to open up for him. My aunt took him in, cleaned him up and he was sober enough to attend my oldest brother’s wedding and if I can remember correctly, that was the last time I saw my dad alive. He was so thin that they had trouble finding something to fit him for the wedding.
In the end, he ended up on the streets, and after about 2 years of not hearing from my dad, my mom started searching for him and we found out that he had passed away the year before and was buried in a pauper’s grave. I was 17 when we found out and the feeling I had, which I am ashamed to tell you, was relief.

An even bigger secret that I kept from everyone was that I was molested as a little girl. This was something I only realized later that probably made a huge difference in how I approached men and intimacy. This was also a very big factor in my not wanting children.

Reading all of this, I need to let you know that there was still more good than bad in my life as I grew up. I believe I still grew up more privileged than a lot of children in my country and that is part of the reason I am writing this, to let you know that no matter how you grew up, there is hope for you! Even if now, you cannot see yourself getting out of this situation, there is hope. I found it and so can you.

Ian grew up a little different than I did. He had a wonderful father that later became the measure with which I would measure all men and very few of them ever measured up. He became more than just a father-in-law, he became my dad and my mentor.

Ian grew up a bit differently, in a mostly stable home environment and although they moved around a lot because of the type of work that Ian’s dad did. He had a stay-at-home mom who did everything for them and a dad that would come home in the evenings and spend time with them. I am not saying the way they grew up was perfect and I cannot speak for how Ian experienced it, from me on the outside looking in, it was nearly perfect and maybe I was a bit jealous of this.

I guess you could say that we grew up on opposite sides of the track as it were. Now you know why it took me so long to even consider having children. Let me tell you how that happened and how things went so horribly wrong without me realizing it.

“Both low and high, Rich and poor together.”