My girlfriend lied about having a miscarriage.
At least now I can call her my ex. (Real names have not been used)
Was I in an abusive relationship? For a man to admit to that comes with an awful amount of stigma. Could I tell my friends? Could I tell my family? Could I really even tell myself? Before the fake pregnancy the emotional and physical abuse was consistent but not constant. The threats of Jane killing herself if we broke up, or the physical threats towards me to never tell anybody about what she was like while she threw things around the house or at me.
I was 20 when she lied about the pregnancy and miscarriage, we had been broken up for 2 weeks, it was her ploy to reel me back into the relationship. I didn’t realise it was a lie until a year later when a close friend of mine had a miscarriage and I confided in her about what I thought was my experience with it. When I was sharing details about Jane’s miscarriage, Katie, who isn’t one to hide her facial expressions, and never liked Jane anyway said “Ben that doesn’t sound right.”
Katie admitted not everybody has the same experience, of course not. But from what I had been told by Jane, the behaviour she had already shown and how she acted when this topic was mentioned, Katie was right something didn’t seem normal.
My close friends had been trying to get me to break up with Jane for months, she was making me a shell of a man, I was anxious, lazy and depressed. We’d broken up who knows how many times, and each time my friends tried to keep me away from her, but it was addicting, the drama, the action, everything.
After speaking with Katie I took a while to think about things, the “miscarriage” had been almost a year ago, things weren’t great, they never were, but did I want to stir things up based on a hunch I had and the opinion of a friend who openly hated Jane and some internet research I’d done?
Turns out yes I was.
I lied my way into getting the truth out of her, saying I had a friend at work whose girlfriend had had a miscarriage, and wanted some advice on how to deal with it. Jane brushed it off and said she didn’t want to talk about it, I argued saying I needed to talk about it, I need to understand what happened, it was half of me and I never got to even think about it let alone talk about it. She blew up:
“It happened to me not you”
“You’d dumped me”
“You acted like you didn’t care about me so why would you care about this”
Constant allegations to try and make me shut up and stop asking about it. I asked if she had been to hospital because “my friend had”, she said no it was too early on and was just like a big period. This was it, this was the slip up. I still had the messages from a year ago when she texted me about it.
Hey I need to talk to you
I’ve been in the hospital, I’ve had a miscarriage and the bleeding was really bad I wasn’t sure what it was but they’ve just told me.
Just thought that you should know
I’m fine btw don’t worry
Surprisingly searching the word miscarriage on my phone messages only came up with that result, I’d done my research, found these messages before asking. As soon as she said no I got up from her room and walked out. Sent her the screenshot of those old messages and smoked possibly the biggest joint of my life, with the friends who’d been telling me to leave for months, none of them saying they told me so, because they hadn’t who on earth could guess somebody would fake a pregnancy if we don’t live in a soap?
Before I turned my phone off she racked up around 80 missed calls, maybe ignoring her wasn’t the best way to deal with it. She carried on playing dumb for the first few messages:
WHAT THE FUCK?????
Where have you gone?
Ben come back, wtf I’m so confused???
What is the screenshot you sent?
Ignoring me isn’t going to help this
I knew you never really cared about me.
If you ever loved me you’d answer the phone.
I’m sorry please just answer the phone.
You’re scaring me please pick up
I’m going to phone your mum Ben please pick up the phone
I left it overnight, finally phoned her back and said I was going to come round to hers.
She opened the door in floods of tears already and her Mum standing behind her looking at me like I’d done something wrong. Jane suggested we go talk upstairs, her Mum said “No you’re talking with me here, I’ve had her all night crying about you Ben, you need to explain to me what you’ve done.” Gladly Mary.
Jane looked ill, really white in the face wrapped in her dressing gown like Mummy’s little angel, she tried arguing with her Mum “let us sort it out I’ll talk to you later” No chance.
I was just going to be blank at this point, remove emotions from it. “Were you ever pregnant and did you have a miscarriage?” Mary’s face went as white as Janes and she looked at her daughter with this shock and sadness like I’ve never seen before.
“No” and the floods of tears started again.
I stood up from the sofa and went for the door.
“Please Ben please let me explain, you were being so distant I just needed you back I needed to get your attention”
I never really got an answer about why she did it. About 2 years later is when I finally spoke to her again, I’d gotten a number of messages off her, her Mum and even her new uni friends asking me to talk to her again. She was working on trying to be a better person apparently, trying to right all the wrongs in her life so she could finally be happy and move on from things. I messaged:
“Please stop getting people to message me for you. It’s all fine, it’s been years Jane. Do whatever you need to be happy but do not involve me”
I’d like to blame my depression and anxiety issues on her, say I’d be perfectly normal and happy now if it wasn’t for her lies and erratic behaviours. Realistically that’s too much of an easy pinpoint, she was just a part of the puzzle.