When we arrived at the hospital to speak with someone about treatment they interviewed my husband by himself and didn't ask me any questions. He somehow convinced them that he only needed out patient treatment. We went home. I KNEW NOTHING about drugs. I was the girl at school that didn't smoke or do drugs. I rarely had a drink. I had friends who smoked and smoked pot but I didn't hang around with them when they were doing these things. I was so scared of getting in trouble with my parents or the police that I never wanted to be around it. When I say I had NO CLUE I really mean that.
While I was pregnant we had gone to counseling because I knew we had an issue but I had NO idea it was drug related. The counselor, at one point, asked me if I thought there was a drug problem and I told him I didn't think so (not to my knowledge) but that I would ask a couple of his good friends; which I did and they said absolutely not. None of them had ever seen him do any drugs and he had never talked to any of them about doing drugs.
We began an out patient program at the hospital 5 nights a week from 6-9 p.m. I was not allowed to bring our daughter who was only 3 weeks old. I was very nervous and emotional about this because I didn't want to leave her with anyone. I was nursing and had waited years to have a baby and now I had this precious angel and was being forced to leave her when all I wanted to do was snuggle, cuddle, and love her. I was very naïve and optimistic and thought everything would be fine!
We went nightly to the meetings but things didn't really change. I knew things were not improving but every time I tried to talk to my husband he tried to make me think I was crazy. Even going so far as to say that I didn't want things to get better so I just tried to cause problems. One evening I told him I knew he was still doing drugs and he kept denying it so I called the counselor that led our group. I told her I knew he was doing drugs and I wanted him drug tested and she said if I knew he was doing them why did I need a test. I told her because he keeps denying it and trying to make me think I'm imaging it and I want to have concrete proof so that he can't keep blaming it on me. She said bring him in. We went back to the hospital and he spoke with someone and that is when he went inpatient. He says if he would have spoken to that person the first time he went he would have started with inpatient because they knew how to talk to him and the first person he spoke to didn't. So I went home with our now 8 week old baby with NO food in the house and NO money. I had taken a 6 month leave from my job to be home with the baby. I was very sad, lonely, scared, and mad all at the same time. I was sad because the dream I had in my head about having my first baby was no where close to the reality I was living. In fact, if you had asked ANYONE who knew me or went to school with me they would tell you I am the LAST PERSON ON EARTH that would ever marry a drug addict. I was lonely because I was all alone with this beautiful baby and had imagined a perfect scenario of bringing her home and working together to take care of her and I felt worse than a single mother because now I had a very LARGE issue to deal with. I was scared not because of myself and that I thought I couldn't do it but for my daughter who was going to have to grow up with an addict as a father. That is something I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy. I felt scared and sick for her.
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