Twenty four months. One hundred and four weeks. Seven hundred and thirty days.
That’s a long fucking time, isn’t it?
Like, think of all the things that can happen in that time. There’s so much that can change.
I mean God, look at where I was two years ago — Finishing school, moving in with Erik… I was so happy. It felt like there was so much to look forward to. Like my life was finally beginning.
And look at me now. I’m more alone than I’ve ever been in my entire life. And I’m about to get two whole fucking years of my life taken away from me.
It’s just not fair. None of this is. And none of this would’ve even happened if it weren’t for… Well, everybody.
If Erik actually had his shit together and got a job, we never would’ve been so desperate for money in the first place.
If my family actually gave a shit about helping me, I never would’ve had to steal from my Oma.
If Rylie and Devin had kept their fucking mouths shut, my parents never would’ve found out the way they did.
And then maybe they wouldn’t have called the fucking cops on me.
And I’ll admit it — I challenged them to do it. I dared them to. But I didn’t actually think they would!
They kept giving me all this crap about how there was “nothing else they could do” and I “didn’t give them any choice”. Yeah, bullshit. Once they found out about the baby, they really fucking regretted turning me in like that. Especially when the judge finally gave me my sentence.
They’re so fucking stupid… They told me they didn’t think I’d get so much jail time. They were expecting another fine, maybe probation… They felt awful when they found out. They couldn’t stop crying. And you know what? I was glad. They SHOULD feel like shit for what they did. Especially Papa. I know he was the one behind all this. He betrayed me — and his grandchild too.
These past few months have been kind of a whirlwind, I guess. Court dates and talking to lawyers and all that other legal shit. And all my doctor appointments on top of it all. It’s been so fucking stressful. And having to face all of it alone makes it even worse.
It’s so lonely now… I don’t have anybody anymore.
Rylie and Devin used to try calling and texting me all the time, back when this all started. But they wouldn’t leave me the fuck alone, so I blocked their numbers. It breaks my fucking heart, but I just can’t deal with them now. I don’t wanna talk to either of them anymore. This is all their fault. They were supposed to be my best friends, and they betrayed me, just like my parents did.
Then there’s Erik… he betrayed me too. And worst of all, he betrayed our child! I’ll never forget how it felt when I heard him say it — that he doesn’t want our baby. I still can’t believe he wanted to give our child away! I’m so mad at him. Honestly, I’m not even sure if I’ll ever forgive him either.
But… despite everything, there’s a part of me that still misses him. I try not to, but I just can’t help it. I’ve even tried talking to him a few times since they arrested me. But every time, all we do is end up yelling at each other.
He’s living with his brother right now… And, as much as I hate it, I’m back with my parents. We had to give up the apartment, since neither of us can afford it anymore.
I hate being back here. I never leave my old bedroom. I lock the door whenever I can. Anything to avoid having to see my parents any more than I already do.
But I guess it doesn’t really matter, does it?
In less than two months, I’ll be behind bars anyway.
For Two. Fucking. Years.
I tried so many times to write in here about it before now, but I just couldn’t think straight enough to get my thoughts down. I’ve had a couple months to process it by now… To try and “accept” it, I guess.
I’ve been doing a ton of research about it. Trying to figure out what to expect. I mean like, all I really had to go off were a bunch of American movies and TV shows. Orange is the New Black and shit like that. But that’s fiction. Who knows what a real prison’s actually like?
From everything I’ve heard, they do things pretty differently here in Germany than they do in the US, at least… Not that it’ll make things much better. It doesn’t matter how “humane” it is or how much they care about “rehabilitation” and all that crap. Either way, I’m losing my freedom.
And the more I think about it, the more terrified I feel. And sad too… what kind of mother spends the first two years of her child’s life in JAIL?!
That’s the only reason they haven’t locked me up already anyway. The judge delayed my sentence until a month and a half after the birth. Real fucking kind, right? How generous.
I’ll get six weeks with my little boy, and then that’s it. They’re locking me up.
How the hell did Erik manage to get off so easy?! They found his stash when they searched our apartment, and they slapped him with a possession charge. But the judge was a hell of a lot nicer to him. Six months mandatory rehab, then a year in therapy. Not one friggin’ day in jail.
Not that he’ll get to take care of our son anyway. My little boy will be staying with my parents. “Protective custody”, they’re calling it. Great. Fucking up my life wasn’t bad enough… now my parents can fuck up my kid too! But I didn’t really have a choice.
Erik’s Mama didn’t want to take him. It was either my parents, or foster care. And I know my parents fucking suck, but trusting my kid with a STRANGER? Yeah, not happening.
When Erik’s done with rehab and I’m finally out of jail, we can file for custody… But I’m not even sure if Erik will want to. And hell, at this rate it’ll probably have to be shared custody, if anything. I’m not even sure if he and I are still together anymore. This whole thing has fucked us up. BAD.
I’ve lost everything. My family, my best friends, the love of my life, and now my freedom too.
So I’m just trying so hard to focus on the one good thing I have left right now… This baby. My little boy.
Today’s supposed to be my due date. Maybe that’s why I finally decided to dig out this old thing in the first place and start spilling my soul. He’ll be here any day now.
And I think I’ve finally settled on what to call him.
The last name was easy. I’d been planning for him to be a Shimada… But not anymore.
I don’t care if Erik changes his mind someday — I’m not giving my child the last name of a father who didn’t want him.
It was the first name that was a challenge to come up with. I mean, it’s pretty damn hard focusing on baby names when you’re worried about shit like court dates and freaking out about going to jail, y’know?
But when I started thinking about how hard everything’s been for me, I realized how much harder it’s gonna be for my son.
He’s coming into this world with a drug-addicted father who doesn’t want him, and a total fuck-up of a mother who got herself thrown in jail.
And to top it all off, he’ll be a Rosebrook. That’s enough of a fucking curse as it is, isn’t it?
Everything in my life is a fucking disaster. It’s all falling apart.
And the universe has decided to put my little boy right in the middle of it all.
But you know what? I’m not worried.
Because I know he’ll be strong. I can feel it.
He’ll make it through whatever shit life decides to throw at him.
He’ll climb his way out of the rubble. He’ll rise from the ashes.
My little Phoenix.
Harper’s generation is far from over (keep your seatbelts fastened, folks!), but I wanted to take a moment to officially welcome our Gen 7 heir into the world… Phoenix Rosebrook 🙂
Lucky number seven!
(Whoops, someone just informed this poor child he’s a Rosebrook LMAO Sorry, kid. They can’t put you back in!)