Unfortunately, Aaron’s decision had a variety of ramifications.
The first being, since I was tossing a lot of milk down the drain once the freezer filled up (and had to take breaks from work to pump), this became onerous and disruptive, rather than necessary for my son’s nurture.
Still, I would have continued doing it, but then it came clear that Travis was having trouble coping with the constant change. He’d already suffered nipple confusion when the back and forth was happening between my breast and Aaron needing to use bottles. Not to mention just having to endure the back and forth between his mommy and daddy.
But then Travis started spitting up more, having trouble returning to the nipple when I got him back, was cranky and slept fitfully, and in the end, he wasn’t gaining weight the way he should.
Since Aaron flatly refused to put him back on my milk, I had no choice but to switch to formula.
And heartbreakingly, Travis’s feedings steadied, he was in better spirits, slept peacefully and looked healthier.
At the time, I’d been devastated, the experience made worse by learning precisely how powerless I was about what happened with my baby.
So it also terrified me.
“It’s true,” I answered Angie. “He demanded I switch from breast milk to formula, and although I refused in the beginning, Travis had issues with the change, Aaron would not hear of accepting my milk, so I had to relent.”
I heard Tyra gasp but I didn’t turn to her. I stayed focused on Angie.
“It says in your custody agreement that matters of health and well-being are to be decided equally between you and your ex-husband,” Angie told me, something I already knew.
“That may be so, but that’s not Aaron’s way of doing things,” I shared. “If he wants to do it, he does.”
“That couldn’t have been easy on you or your son,” Angie noted.
“It absolutely wasn’t,” I confirmed. “On either of us. But Aaron has little concern about what’s easy on me or, apparently, Travis. In fact, just last week Travis had croup. Aaron took him to the hospital, and he didn’t inform me he did. His fiancée shared with me after the fact, but Aaron didn’t contact me at all. I requested to see my son, but this was refused. I saw him two days later, but only because Aaron’s fiancée snuck him to my place of work so I could spend thirty minutes with him.”
There was heavy silence before Angie said, “When you speak to Leanne, please make our meeting as soon as you possibly can, Carissa. There are a number of motions I could file. In the meantime, I’ll think things over so I can fully discuss our strategy options going forward during our meeting.”
“Can you give me a hint?” I asked, my heart thumping.
“Of course,” she answered. “First, there’s no way the financial support you can provide your son should not be augmented by your ex-husband. The discrepancy between your earnings is vast. Second, even though your marriage was not very long, your settlement, considering proceedings started when you were pregnant, was outrageously low. There is no way you could set up an appropriate home for your son and yourself with that kind of money. Your husband more than has the means to have helped provide you with that, not only through his earnings but also the trust fund that opened to him when he turned twenty-five, and two rather substantial inheritances that he’s received in the last four years.”
She took a breath before she continued and I kept listening hard, my heart still hammering in my chest because she sounded on the ball and raring to fight. I hadn’t had anyone but me in my corner for so long, it was a thrill to have someone who knew what they were talking about finally helping me fight.
“Also, your ex-husband by signed agreement does not have the right to make unilateral decisions of the magnitude of ceasing breastfeeding. And last, regardless that it was croup, and I assume, as well as hope, your son is feeling much better, any illness should be reported to an ex-spouse. It’s an unparalleled hardship that you weren’t informed of his ailment nor granted access to him while he was ill. From what I understood from Mr. Allen, this situation was sketchy at best. Now, understanding it fully, it’s far worse. I’m fighting mad, Carissa. I just hope you are too.”
“I am,” I whispered, my heart thumping faster, because she didn’t sound fighting mad.
She sounded incensed.
“Then please, make a meeting with Leanne as soon as is convenient. I’ll stay late if you have to work. I’ll instruct Leanne about that. Take care, Carissa, and I hope to see you soon.”
She transferred me. I spoke with Leanne. We set a meeting the next day after I got off work and I disconnected, then stood there in a cute tube top, staring at my phone.
I did this thinking maybe, just maybe, finally there was hope.
“Your ex made you stop breastfeeding?”
I stiltedly turned to Tyra at her question.
She was staring up at me, her eyes bright with tears, though, from the look on her face, I didn’t know if they were tears of camaraderie of a mother done wrong or tears of fury.
“Yes,” I told her.
“Oh my God,” she whispered. “I totally hate your ex.”
“I hate him too!” Rider cried loyally.
I forced a grin at him but said, “That’s sweet, cutie, but you really shouldn’t hate people.”
“You should if they’re mean,” Rider returned.
Now, how could I argue that?
“Tyra, notice,” Elvira stated, and at her tone, my eyes went direct to her.
At one look, I saw Elvira wasn’t feeling upset about a mother done wrong.
She was just flat furious.
“Your man’s got T-minus a month to sort that jackass, then I’m settin’ Hawk on him,” she warned.
“Vira said ass!” Cutter shouted, though why he’d point that out when his father said the same and he hadn’t uttered a word, I didn’t know.
I also didn’t ask.