Parental Alienation

The day after my son was born, as he was in his crib in the NICU, I heard my husband say to him, “Daddy will protect you from everything, even your mommy.”

My blood ran cold. I was 36 hours post partum, with excruciating hip pain (that caused me to go to the ER the next day to treat what was a post partum infection that could have killed me).

My son had been born with the cord wrapped twice around his neck, and he had to be resuscitated, then was placed on my shoulder for 10 seconds before being whisked to the NICU. He was then transferred to the children’s hospital for a special protocol for 8 days. I told my husband to go with him, while I spent one night at the hospital where I gave birth before driving the next day to the children’s hospital to be with them.

Also, my son was the result of donor egg — so while genetically related to my husband, his only relationship to me was that I carried him, and that it was my pushing that got us to have him. During my pregnancy, my husband, a doctor, told me alternatively that our son would be genetically related to me by epigenetics; then that epigenetics wasn’t a real thing. My husband had also made me promise, in order to have our son, that should we get divorced, I could not remarry or bring another man into my life, as he didn’t want to co-parent with anyone else.

So, sitting in the dark NICU room, with the only light from my son’s crib and the monitors, listening to my husband tell our son that he would protect him for everyone and thing, including his mother, told me how life would be. Though I desperately wished it to not be true.

You see, I didn’t realize that I was married to a narcissist until after our son was born. I always knew I was codependent…and had been going to Al-anon, and therapy. And every therapist was concerned for me. I had one even say they thought my husband had borderline personality disorder.

It was a weekend retreat just before the pandemic locked everything down, when my son was 15 months old, on getting beyond codependency that made me realize I was living with someone with a serious problem that was now my serious problem.

For years, I had been slowly cutting off friends and family, as living with my husband was inconsistent. I couldn’t commit to plans, as he would inevitably change them because he was sick, he didn’t want to go, we had had a fight. It was easier to not make plans or even to talk with folks, because I didn’t want to have to make an excuse, or make him look bad in the least.

So, that night in the NICU, hearing him promise our son to protect him from me, when my husband knew I could hear, didn’t sound like a father promising his son to be there for him. No, it sounded like I would be cut out of my son’s life, if I didn’t do what my husband wanted.

So, for the first month and a half, it was fine — until my husband lost his job, again. Then when I could no longer provide enough breast milk, my husband literally took to milking me, saying we needed to do this for our son. When I stopped for my mental health, it was if I had failed to him. As the time for me to go back to work approached, he accused me of post-partum depression, as he ratcheted up the pressure on me, needing more and more attention.

Then he started picking on my behavior…even when I found him an apartment for his next job, which he lost as well.

Then he accused me of dropping our son, when our son actually fell. He accused me of scaring our son when he tried to walk at 12 months, saying I delayed his walking. When my husband would start yelling at me, and our son, whom I was holding started crying, my husband would take him from my arms, as if I was the one who had started yelling. My husband still does that to this day.

Then by April of the pandemic, my husband started hitting me, then telling me he didn’t. Once I was sitting with our son between my legs, and my husband hit me on the head, causing my chin to strike my son’s head. My husband accused me of hitting our son.

Eventually, I did file for divorce, but pandemic, my husband’s lack of a job (yet again), and my husband’s refusal to leave the house or even work on a separation has left that stagnant.

Throughout, my husband has told my son that mommy made a mistake, mommy is mean, mommy is wrong, and when daddy makes a promise, he keeps it. While telling me how everything I do is wrong when it comes to our son, that no one likes me, that I have no friends, that I’m just like my mother.

A few weeks ago, I spoke with a divorce coach, to get a real feel for what I should do. When I described the behavior, she said, “that’s parental alienation.”

And I cried.