You never know until it happens to you

I have plenty of single mom friends (or mom's who were once single moms) and many of them were single all throughout their pregnancies.  I always knew it was hard for them, but I thought it was because they missed their significant other.  I mean they had me there for them, their families, other friends, and so they really were not missing out on anything, right? 
So now that I am going through a pregnancy alone, I have started to see how wrong I was.  I know it is pretty crappy of me to just now be really seeing the truth in the matter, now that it is happening to me, but isn't that normally how it works?  We are quick to dismiss things or pass judgement until it affects us, and then our entire outlook changes. 
So now that I am in the situation I am in, I would like to apologize to everyone I have ever known that went through a pregnancy without the complete support of the father, for me not recognizing how truly crappy it is.  It is not the intimate relationship that I miss.  It is knowing that I have a partner in the miracle of life.  That the man I trusted to create a child with me, is actually as excited as I am.  I miss knowing that there will be someone there at the end of the day to rub my feet or put their hand on my stomach to feel the baby move.  I miss knowing that I have a cohort in this journey. 
I miss knowing that whatever happens, there is someone out there as invested in this as I am.  I know I have friends and family who are, but it is just....different.  I guess I did not anticipate that while I was not "with" my daughter's father, that he would take such a complete lack of interest.  It pains me that he cannot even speak of the pregnancy or say her name.  That he never asks how she is doing, or how I am doing.  Not as his wife (which I still am) but as the vessel and life force of his first daughter.  I hate that while I am doing this alone, he is off playing house, pretending to be a devoted father.  That he is sharing those thoughts, wishes, concerns, with another girl.  That he can devote so much into someone he has known only a few months but cannot even inquire as to the well being of his wife for 8 years, partner for 12 years, and the woman currently carrying his fourth child while raising his other three.
I know I should not care, but I do.  I remember so vividly the joy and excitement of going into labor with my first three children.  I remember having him by my side, holding my hand, encouraging me from the time we left for the hospital until we came home with our bundle of joy.  I remember the intense sense of bonding/oneness/love/perfection I felt when the doctor handed me our child and my husband stood beside me, with tears in his eyes as he kissed each of us on the forehead.  In my life, the three times I have experienced that have been the most intense and perfect moments in my life.  They were the moments I knew that I was on the right track.  That I was exactly where I was supposed to be.  What a fool I was.
And now I think of this pregnancy and how it will all play out.  I think about having my first contractions and wanting to reach out to him, but knowing my contact is not wanted.  I think about beginning to make the phone calls, pack my bags, and instead of being overwhelmed with joy, drowning in anxiety and fear.  I imagine arriving at the hospital and being without the person who helped create this miracle, and knowing that even if he was there, the last thing he would want to do is hold my hand and support me.
I picture me laboring with our child, and him in the waiting room texting her and sharing this moment with her.  I imagine that first moment I see my daughter and I look around and he is nowhere to be found.  I can feel the joy as I hold her being washed away by a sense of loneliness and shame.  The anxiety is almost palpable as he comes in the room for the first time to meet his daughter, and does not even bother to look my way.  I watch his eyes fill with tears as if he deserves any of the joy.  I can hear him calling her to tell her how perfect his daughter is and how he cannot wait for her to hold my child. 
I assume he will stop by a couple of times over the next couple of days to fulfill his obligations.  He will blush as I breast feed and turn his head or leave the room as if he may see something he has not seen thousands of times before.  He will ask the obligatory questions so that when he is asked, he can act like he is being actively involved.  I fear that every time he is around I will not be able to control my tears or hurt, or maybe even anger.
Jump forward to leaving the hospital, alone with my daughter, and coming home.  To putting her in her crib for the first time with no one around who truly understands the impact of all these "firsts".  To the night feedings by myself.  To being sleep deprived, depressed, and overwhelmed with negative emotions during a time that should hold nothing but joy. 
I know I should not think of these things.  I know I should focus on the positive, but as each day passes i I am reminded that the man I knew is gone.  That what I thought I had is over.  That I will never have that again. This is my life.  This is how it will be for my children and I for now on.  There is no "maybe".  There is no hope.  We are alone in this. And I know we will make it, and will be great.  I just hate that we are having to prove that.  I hate that he has the world by a string while I am hanging on by a thread.  I hate that I have these vain, selfish, useless thoughts.  I hate that I cannot erase him from my mind.  I hate that I am so emotionally weak that I allow him to consume my thoughts, but here I am. Still hurting. Still crying.  Still standing still, as if I might wake up from this nightmare.  As if I might save the day and come out the hero instead of the victim.