There must be something wrong… do ya think?

In the seconds that flew by as my new husband ran from another room and quickly approached me and the glider-rocker I was sitting on, I thought to myself, “Wow, what’s wrong that he is moving so fast. Is there a bug near me? Is the room on fire? I had no idea that I was about to be attacked. It was not even in the back of my mind.

Tom was an educated man. He was smart. He was loud, yes. He was a bit full of himself, yes. But he loved me and I was nine months pregnant and we were newlyweds just beginning our lives, on a path that we planned together. Yep, he loved to argue, about anything. Yep, he loved to hear himself talk. But, he didn’t drink. He didn’t order me around. He didn’t try to keep me away from my friends and family. He didn’t really care what I did. Well, as long as it didn’t affect him.

I thought a wife beater was the guy who wore a ripped and dirty undershirt barking commands to his submissive and somewhat stupid wife. We were not those people.

So when Tom wrapped his hands around my throat and pinned me back against the highrise back of the comfy glider-rocker and screamed a primative sounds, I was in told shock. There must be something wrong with him, I immediately thought. What could be wrong that he would do something like this, I thought as his hands tightened around my neck.

I wasn’t really afraid, either, for me or my baby. Odd. In that first second, which seemed like an eternity, I felt worried for my husband because the only way that he could possibly do such a thing is if he had some medical condition, maybe a brain tumor or something like that.

But, within the next second, the reality of situation took hold and my survival “fight” instinct kicked in and I began to push him off me. Thankfully, the glider-rocker helped give me the leverage I needed and I got him off me in just a few seconds.

The rest of that day is a blur of weird memories. I was hurt, mad and mostly confused. Just what did I say that made him so mad that he would do such a thing. And what was I going to do? Our baby was due in about two weeks. The nursery was put together. My mother was coming to help a couple of new parents with the baby. And maybe, just maybe, we could get back on track, pretend this didn’t happen and live out the rest of our lives like we were suppose to, a happily ever-after family.

That was a theme throughout the next 10 years of our lives.

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