The Foundation Wasn't Love — It Was Control

Chapter 1: A Kind Voice in a Lonely Season

I was 21, pregnant, and already carrying the ache of abandonment.

The man I’d been seeing didn’t want the baby. He made that clear, he was sleeping around only staying in my house for a bed to sleep in. But for me, there was never a question. I had been told, that if I abort that I might never have children, and here I was pregnant, alone, and already in love with the life growing inside me.

I didn’t hesitate as I knew the kind of mother I wanted to be. I wanted to love a child the way I had never been loved to protect someone the way no one had protected me, to be fully present and from that moment on, I was.

Eight years later, I can say this with no doubt. I’ve never missed a moment. Not a milestone. Not a day. Not a celebration. Through everything, I’ve been there and being a mother has been my greatest purpose and success story.

That’s when he arrived.
My ex-husband.
Not as a partner. Not yet.
Just as a friend.

We were both going through hard times.

We Messaged constantly, phone calls and snap chat. Talking about life troubles, how his ex up and left him and how I was in a life changing time of my life.

Then the first visit. He came to my house in Temora; we talked and connected. Spent time together just adults trying to figure out life, nothing more than supports. For the first few visits, nothing happened. It felt safe, but slowly, something shifted and I didn’t realise I was being set up for something far more dangerous.

Chapter 2: Ghosted at Seven Months Pregnant

His visits became regular. Familiar and Comforting.
I let him in emotionally first, then it progressed it felt like something solid was forming, and when I decided to move back to Sydney, it was partly because of him.
Because of what I thought we could be, but mid-move, the thing I didn’t see coming. He disappeared. No texts. No calls. Nothing.

He had gone to the Deniliquin Ute Muster, then on a fishing trip to Seventeen Seventy.
While I, was 7 to 8 months pregnant, packed, cleaning and moved house alone, for someone who had vanished without explanation. This wasn’t something that I couldn’t face as I had restarted so many times in my life, but this time was more of a shock.

It hurt, it stung in a way I couldn’t describe and then, what a call karma now looking back, found him.

He broke both his heels jumping out of a boat, suddenly, and then, there he was again.
Calling. Messaging. Wanting connection.

He wasn’t reaching out because he regretted leaving me. He was reaching out because he needed someone. Someone to care about him. It was just an act of attention without apologies or accountability of what he had done. Being caring and leading with not wanting others to feel the pain I had.

And I did care, because I was hurt. Hopeful. And, truthfully — hormonal.

Pregnancy has a way of making your heart even softer.
So I opened the door again. Just a little.

Chapter 4: Rebuilding and the First Real Break

Despite everything, I started to find balance.

I had a solid group of friends and found myself a new rhythm.
I was building something healthy, something safe for the first time in a long time.

Then came my first weekend away.
My son was nearly a year old. No one had ever watched him before, but I needed a break. I went to a BNS Ball — a country gathering with bonfires, music, and fun.

Before leaving I had to cut ties again with my Ex-husband, his blow in and blow out ways and the expectations for me to wait for him to be ready, I was done I had been dealing with it for almost a year, the love bombing, the mind games and ultimately false promises filled with excuses. I finally just told him how it was and that we are done. I’m moving on with my life, then went away to enjoy my weekend off, to enjoy a moment to just breath. No more messaging. No more loose ties. I was done.

There was a guy going whom I had connected with, with in my new friend group. He was kind, engaging, warm. I didn’t have service during the trip, but I felt good. Alive again.
That tiny flicker of hope returning, constantly, concerned about my little baby, but I also knew I needed a mental reset, so I could be there for him everyday.

Then, on the drive home, my phone lit up, dozens of messages. Calling my dad, checking on my baby and organising collection meet up and updates on how he was. Then I looked at the messages. They were….

From him.

He knew I was letting go, he felt the control slipping and he panicked.

Chapter 5: The Begging, the Bargaining, the Breakdown

The messages kept coming, full of pleading, begging, guilt-tripping and scattered with emotional landmines. Follwed by the same attempt as before, he showed up at my house. I said no, but he wouldn’t leave, I made it clear, but he wouldn’t stop.

Looking back now, I see it for what it was: Panic from losing control.

But at the time, I just kept wondering, “Why now?” Why did he always come back when I was about to move forward?

I tried to keep things casual, unsure of where I stood with the new guy, unsure of what I wanted. He started bonding with my son. Showing up more, nearly daily. I started to let my guard down again I wanted to believe it could be real this time.

Then came the night he showed up drunk, didn’t remember driving to my place.
Said he loved me, he was ready and wanted to commit.
Wanted no one else to be around me.

And I believed him.
Again.

Continue to Part 2….