In the wake of all these problems with Mohamed, I started to think of when we made our child. I had just been back "home" (at college) for a few weeks after Christmas break. Mohamed was still drinking heavily, sometimes returning home at 4 or 5 in the morning (and the bars close at 1). I was always mad, but he had a definite skill in talking his way out of sticky situations.

This particular night he had gone out, ignoring my begging him to stay in (he had a court hearing the next day, for peeing on a building when he was drunk) and, although I had called him several times to remind him that "Okay, you have court in 8 hours. Okay, you have court in 6 hours.. please come home" he stayed out until 4:30ish. I, of course, was mad- he had begged me to go with him to his hearing because he was scared out of his mind. He didn't know if having this on his record would be considered against him for immigration purposes. With court in 4 hours, I wanted nothing more than to get back in bed after letting him in and go to sleep. He had other ideas. He immediately stripped and tried to convince me to sleep with him. I refused, after all I was mad and tired and he was drunk. I told him probably eight or nine times that I wasn't in the mood, and I would not sleep with him when he was drunk (he knew this previously). He finally told me that if I didn't "perform" he would leave and find someone who would.

I don't know why I let him, and it's something people ask me now if I regret, especially seeing as he broke up with me less than a week later. Really, I don't. Everything happens for a reason, and without this hiccup, I wouldn't have my sweet daughter growing inside me. She's truly a blessing, even if her father isn't.