Quote:
Originally Posted by Faking sane
My son has said to me, "Look how many lives you've created and destroyed with your selfish need for a companion who couldn't leave you." of course, he got this information from me when he asked me why we had so many kids if we didn't have the money to give them nice things... I was honest. I had my oldest in high school. Yes, on purpose. A girl from our school who came from a really poor family was getting all kinds of family attention and support because she was pregnant. I wanted my family to get behind me like that, but that wasn't what happened.
My boyfriend (who I really shouldn't have even still been with because head already cheated on me and hit me at least once before) became much more abusive emotionally. I caught him making out with a girl he had cheated with previously and I must have gone blank. Apparently I walked right out in front of someone's conversion van in rush-hour traffic (for a town of around 1400 at the time...), and it just so happened to be someone whose disabled daughter and young son I sat with regularly while she and the middle daughter participated in Girl Scouts with my mom. So she told on me.
Lots of conversations happened I think with people at school and at home, and I ended up locked up at Northwestern University Hospital after my mom took me on a fake mother/daughter bonding/acceptance outing to buy maternity clothes and a coat. I was already in the car. There wasn't really much I could do. I don't know what they ever found out in that place. The only words I recall from some family conference were "idealist" and "hopelessly optimistic". I don't know how long I was there. 2 or 3 weeks, maybe? It was actually a pretty cool place minus once manic goy's scary outbursts (looked an awful lot like my mom in a rage, only he was happy instead of angry  but frightening and ~I didn't know the word for it then~ quite triggering!" the actually took people's blood back then and TESTED it for the missing elements doctor's just guess about today. Progress, huh? Oh well. I digress...
Agreeing to have an abortion, which I never actually had or even intended to have (though they nearly trapped me there, too) got me out of there pretty quick. Luckily, a sensitive nurse got me off the hook at the abortion appointment (that my dad drove me to) with an ultrasound date that showed that I was too far along. I think they had a 12-week cut-off time back then. Oddly, my due date was moved ahead a month, later on in the pregnancy. I think she knew I was being coerced. A guardian angel if ever one existed! Not only for my oldest, but for me as well, because I surely would have stopped functioning in any capacity and just starved until I died. It's true, what I told my second youngest... I did get pregnant on purpose because I needed someone in my life who would love me unconditionally, as I had never had that from a human being before. Everyone else's affections were performance-based and easily enough withheld if i failed to perform as expected. ESPECIALLY my mother's! This is the same trick my 20-year-old (the one who said I should have had less kids and stopped with him because I already had perfection) uses on me when he refuses to communicate with me in any way. I don't think he can help it. His biological father was found guilty of extreme and repeated mental, physical, and emotional cruelty toward me in the dial draft of our divorce. I took great comfort in that because it was the first sign of any "official" validation that what he was doing to me was wrong. And he had his parental rights revoked, permanently. That was a nice victory, but cut short when his parents (where they had to stay for their safety from his attacks on me and my family while this all got sorted out) stopped letting me have visitation or even speak to them on the phone because his stalking kept causing me to lose jobs which made it impossible for me to pay child support. That story is too long for this post.
The short of it is that I have given birth to six human beings: two sons from my first husband, a daughter and two sons from my second, but only got to fully raise 3, and one of those was birthed by my husband's ex... The 20-year-old was born into the relationship between my husband and myself, but conceived by ex#2. We were going to tell him after he knew the actually physiology of where babies come from. I mean, how do you explain genetics to a child too young to comprehend THAT? But he found out. At my mom's house (naturally) on a two-week summer visit. apparently she s all into genealogy that year no left some family tree work out. If you knew my other like I do, you'd find it very hard to believe that she left a task without putting everything away. Whether it is or it isn't, that incident feels like sabotage in my mind. I think my dear, sweet, but so painfully honest boy is hurt that we'd feel the need to have a child that was genetically ours together when we were already raising the ideal family together. And I'm pissed at my mother that he found out in a way that hurt him when he was alone with neither of us to talk to (he was 8). All he had was that "treasured" little brother. He really needs more therapy, too...
The point is, please PLEASE lean on the others of us who have experienced the loss of a living child, and we'll lean on you, too 
If it's not rude to ask, what did you put I your correspondences with your son?
And how old is he? I was raised I the 70's! LOL does he have a family of his own that you know of? Tell me if I get too nosey. I am a little socially behind
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I only told him again I was sorry and I missed him. I also told him I remembered how when he was at Miami of Ohio U he would come home and we would go to McD's and just talk for hours and then when he was in grad school in Kansas I would call on Sunday and we would talk for hours. I only ask that he let me know how he's doing. Personal contact is up to him. Eric
is now 44 (this month which is what started my current depressive episode). I don't know if he ever married. He always said he would never marry--probably because of his childhood. And even though I am now remarried for almost 30 years to a wonderful, kind, gentle man who doesn't drink at all and treated Eric like a son from the day he met him. He was 31 when he decided I wasn't a good mother--before that he seemed to like and respect me. The woman he got involved with at that time disliked me and I have always thought she instigated our trouble. But she's history now as far as I know. Oddly enough I am best friends with his girlfriend he had in KS even though she lives 1200 miles away we stay in touch regularly. We never have discussed him or their breakup and I told him so. I doubt that would bother him but perhaps it did. He has a history of treating women badly--first he spoils them, then he starts to be verbally abusive and they leave him. Again, I am sure it's his childhood and the fact that although his father spent the evenings after work in a bar finding other women and his weekends with his best friend getting drunk and riding his motorcycle, Eric always adored him and tried to copy his every mannerism. I was the one who took him to movies, out to eat every Friday evening, and played card games with him while he father chased other women, got drunk, then came home to throw things around and yell how worthless we were. If I even looked like I was going to protest that meant a punch or slap. Once he locked me out of the house in winter with no coat for hours. No use in the 1970's calling the police since they considered all that to be a "domestic matter". We lived in a very small town and the only policeman was also a drinking buddy of his so there would have been no point in calling him. He used to point his loaded 357 magnum at me when he was drunk. He shot his 3rd wife with a rifle when she left him. His second told me after she left him that he used to put the gun in her mouth when he was angry. So why would a child continue to think such a dark entity was worthy of emulation? I'll never understand that.
I'm sorry your son thinks you had no right to have other children. I do hope they are supportive of you. My father knew my much-older brother was sexually abusing me (from age 4 to 11) and he didn't stop it--he just called me a tramp, slut, and ***** when I was too young to even know what those words meant. I married my first husband to get out of the house but I was faithful and kept trying to make it work which was an exercise in futility. No one in my family ever showed any affection for each other. I have no memory of ever being held, hugged, or kissed. We were just 5 people who shared the same space in time. I am the only one alive now and the only one I miss is my mother and I was probably in my 30's before we forged a close relationship. She had no more clue how to be a mother than I did so I guess it goes from generation to generation if nothing happens to break the cycle.