'AITA for kicking my husband out of the delivery room after he ignored my 25 calls during labor to do keg stands at his buddy's party?'
"AITA for kicking my husband out of the delivery room after he ignored my 25 calls during labor to do keg stands at his buddy's party?"
I was in active labor while my husband was doing keg stands at his buddy's frat party reunion. I worked two jobs while nine months pregnant because my husband decided gaming was more important than contributing to our rent.
He'd sit there for twelve hours straight, headset on, screaming at strangers about team compositions while I hauled myself to a morning shift at the bank and then an evening shift doing data entry from home.
My feet were so swollen I couldn't see my ankles anymore. My back felt like it was splitting in half. And he'd look up from his screen long enough to ask what was for dinner.
His mom knew. She'd come over sometimes and see the state of things. The dishes piled up because I was too exhausted. The laundry overflowing because bending over made me want to vomit.
And there he was, clicking away, energy drink cans stacked like a pyramid next to his desk. She'd pull me aside and say, "He'll grow up when the baby comes."
Sure.
My due date was a Saturday. I'd taken the day off work, obviously. I'd asked him three weeks in advance to keep that weekend clear. Just in case. He nodded, barely looking away from his monitor.
Friday night, his college roommate texted about some reunion party. Twenty people, lots of drinks, reliving the glory days or whatever. It was happening Saturday afternoon, about an hour away.
I said, "You're kidding."
He said, "It's just a few hours. You're not even having contractions."
"My due date is tomorrow."
"Yeah, but first babies are always late. Everyone says that."
I stared at him. "What if I go into labor?"
"Then call me. I'll come back."
I didn't have the energy to fight. I was too tired. I just turned around and went to bed. Saturday morning, he left at noon. Gave me a kiss on the forehead like he was doing me a favor. Said he'd keep his phone on. I watched him drive away and felt something twist in my chest that wasn't the baby.
Contractions started at two. I waited an hour because I thought maybe they'd stop. They didn't. They got worse. I called him at three. No answer. Called again at three fifteen. Nothing. Texted. Nothing.
By four, I was doubled over on the bathroom floor, breathing through contractions that were seven minutes apart. I called him sixteen more times. Every single call went to voicemail. I left messages that got more and more desperate. "Please pick up." "I need you." "I'm in labor." "Where are you?"
Nothing. I called his mom at five thirty. I was crying so hard I could barely get the words out.
She said, "I'm coming right now."
She showed up twenty minutes later, helped me to her car, and drove me to the hospital while I gripped the door handle and tried not to scream. She held my hand through admissions. She stayed with me in the room. She was there when they told me I was already six centimeters dilated.
I kept calling him. Twenty five times total. He never picked up. He finally texted me at eight PM. "Sorry, phone died. How are you?"
I was hooked up to an IV, waiting for an epidural, and his mom was the one texting back. "She's in labor. Get to the hospital NOW."
He showed up at ten. Reeking of beer. Stumbling a little. Grinning like this was all some funny misunderstanding. He said, "Hey, babe. Sorry I'm late."
His mom left the room before she said something she'd regret.
I said, "Get out. I don't want you here."
He blinked. "What? Come on, don't be like that. I'm here now."
"You ignored twenty five calls while I was in labor because you were doing keg stands with your loser friends."
"My phone died."
"There are chargers everywhere. There are people with phones. You chose not to answer."
He sat down in the chair like he was staying. "I'm not leaving. This is my kid too."
A nurse came in right then, saw his face, smelled the alcohol, and asked if I wanted him removed. I said yes. Security walked him out while he yelled about his rights and how I was being crazy and hormonal.
His mom came back in. She was the one who held my hand when I pushed. She was the one who cried when the baby was born. She cut the umbilical cord because he wasn't there.
He's been blowing up my phone ever since. Saying I'm keeping his child from him. Saying I humiliated him in front of the hospital staff. Saying his mom betrayed him by taking my side. His family is split. His dad thinks I overreacted. His sister called me a witch. His mom is the only one who gets it.
He's telling everyone I'm being unreasonable. That he made one mistake and I'm punishing him forever. That he's the victim here because I won't let him see the baby without supervision. Am I the one who is wrong for not forgiving him?