Chapter 5. 3rd generation of domestic violence

The bouncer must have thought he looked like a trouble maker so turned him away. Marc started to argue. I tried pulling him away but the bouncer called him a name and mRc head butted him. Then it was all on and three other bouncers came out and tried to catch him as he ducked and weaved out towards the road. In the scuffle I was pushed out of the way and knew I should stand back being pregnant. This made Marc more angry and he threw punches everywhere until the four bouncers held him down and he gave up. The police were called and down the police station we went. I stood outside whilst Marc was probably charged inside, I don't know. I think I didn't want to really know I just wanted to go home. They let him go because he was sober I suppose and we got a cab home.
The next day I wasn't talking to him which made him more angry. I was laying on the bed and he slapped my leg. This was the first time he'd hit me. I was angry and got up to leave. He held the door shit as I pushed the other way. My thumb got caught and I screamed. Blood shot out of my thumb and Marc told me I deserved it. I stopped the bleeding and called a cab to the doctors. 

Whilst waiting for the doctor I threw up from the shock possibly. I even remember that it tasted of the banana that I had eaten earlier. I was worried about the baby at this time and the trauma that may be going through to the growing fetus. I'd been reading about the babies development each  month and I was about 10 weeks I thought. I had earlier decided not to tell dad till about now and maybe my mum. Whilst I was still waiting Marc turned up at the doctors he'd run all the way and was puffed and sweaty and got a drink of water and sat next to me and pretended to be concerned. Marc continued to work late at night and sleep half the day. I would go swimming at the local indoor pool to keep fit and try to take my mind off things. I also started college that summer and travelled back and forth to college a few days a week. I suppose I didn't look very pregnant yet as I more often than not had to stand up most of the hour trip home. I told my dad on coming to Sydney that I was pregnant and his relation was predictably noncommittal and caring at the same time. He said, "are you happy?" And having Marc standing beside me listening to every word, I answered 'yes' so that is all he wanted to know and he was happy for me. 

I rang my mother also and her reaction was somewhat different, but for some reason at that age I was surprised by her reaction. Which was, 'what is it a boy or a girl'. I said I'd found out it was a boy and she replied, "oh well" and that was that.
I had kept in contact with Ali during this time by writing and another friend I had met through mum and some office work I had done in the past. This friend had told me mum was telling everyone I was on drugs and slumming it with a loser, barefoot and pregnant in Sydney