Its official:

My Initial Status Conference in district court is October 30th.

3 years ago on that day, I was taking a pregnancy test in a porta potty. Rooferman and I were living in a tent on a concrete slab in Slidell, Louisiana. I had quit my job in advertising to move with him into Post-Hurricane Katrina chaos.With all the damage to be repaired, he had big dreams of striking Roofing gold. The bids should have been rolling in, but confusion, deception and insurance company hell commenced instead.

Living in a national disaster area, food, water and gas were scarce. Birth control was also scarce. I had planned to have Jiji  mail me my supply of pills, but we had no mailing address. The PO boxes at the local post office were all filled, and even sending mail was a nightmare. I guess I should have figured that it was only a matter of time before I was knocked up.

 Rooferman and some of the other construction workers who were camping out with us decided they wanted to go into New Orleans for Halloween. They had scavenged some children’s size Fantastic 4costumes from the local supermarket, and proceeded to get wasted on Yeager and Redbull before taking my car into the demolished city.

I had been puking on the job-sites every morning (much to the good ole’ boys’ horror), so I figured I’d better suck it up and pee on a stick. The verdict: I was officially preggo. I was living without electricity or running water. I was sleeping between upside down speed boats and gutted storage units. My only possessions were a .38 Special, a pit bull and a Honda Civic. Before the year was up, all of those things were gone as well.

Rooferman eventually shot our beloved pit bull against my will. I pawned the tainted gun to pay rent. I wrecked my Honda Civic after hitting an elk when I was 8 months pregnant.

I can remember the drunken happiness on Rooferman’s face when I told him I was pregnant. That happiness melted as the sun came up the next morning. He told me it was my fault for not being on birth control and consensually having sex with him. Lets just say, whether it was consensual or not, the act would have happened.

3 years later, I’m ending the control. I’m ending the fear. I’m legally claiming my rights, and protecting my daughter. I’m demanding respect and that he acknowledge his obligations as a father. I’m bringing his abandonment, his threats, his unpredictability, his scapegoating to the court’s attention. I’m finally asking for help.

I also got the $212.00 filing fee waived 🙂 Its a good day.