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Black Love, African American Love

A Black Love Blog that explores every dimension of African American relationships

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Rickell Howard as told to S. Tia Brown
I’m embarrassed to say this, but it’s the truth: I almost lost it when I broke up with my fiancé. It started five years ago. I was in my second year of law school when I became pregnant with my son, Justin, now 5. His father wasn’t exactly "daddy material", so I knew I was destined to be a single mother. It was a harsh and daunting fact, but my reality. Eventually, I transferred to a law in my hometown, so I could be near my family. Then something amazing happened: I reconnected with my high school sweetheart. Obviously, he was salty that I was knocked up, but he wanted to build a relationship. We did.
Seemingly overnight my nightmare morphed into what seemed to be sweet dream. My new man stood by my side as I completed law school, prepared for my state’s bar exam and raised my son. After a while we moved in together and things were great. Three years later I got pregnant. I assumed the man who helped me take care of my baby with another guy would be ecstatic about raising his first biological child, but that wasn’t the case. He panicked. Things were okay until my maternity leave was up and I had to return to my job; between working, breastfeeding, taking care of the kids, and the house, I was completely exhausted. Instead of being supportive he grew distant and began cheating – to top it off he was sloppy. I confronted my fiancé about his fidelity and he did the unthinkable: He chose her.

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