Facing my own demons

adoption, adoption loss, life,

looking into my past pt 5c: Still looking for that perfect life

Continued…

When I got married, I broke the silence between my dad and myself and called him. I wanted him to give me away and he did. This brought him and R back into my life, if only by phone most of the time. In fact, now that I was an adult, married woman, I found I got along well with R and called her almost on a daily basis.

In the very beginning of my marriage to J, I defined our roles. I was the one who chose to let J be… traditional head of the household husband and I would be…"just the wife". I wouldn't make a move in life without asking J, first if it was ok. He, being older and some what "traditional" anyway, took the role I gave him very well. Most things I asked him about he "let" me do as they were tiny things that really didn't matter in the skeem of things. But when the manager at work again approached me about my posible promotion, J sat his foot down. He didn't think his wife should make more money than he did. Yes, he really said that. This was the first time I argued with J on anything. I really wanted this promotion. I let being his wife define me, but my work was the one place where I felt I was my own person. I wanted to move forward with that. J was shocked that I didn't just say "yes, dear" and became very angry. We had our first fight and it was a screaming match that lasted hours. and ended with J making me call work and tell them that I quit. I was crushed. but I did it, because in the end, I thought, "He's my husband, I have to do as he says" I also had the fear that he would kick me out of his life if I didn't do as he wanted.

As it turned out, I would have not been a good canidate for management at that time. Because I was pregnant. Because I had never been very regular, I didn't suspect anything until I was already 3 months along. I started having morning sickness even before I realized what was going on. I thought I had the flu at first. Then suddenly one day I was cleaning out the bathroom cabnets and thought… hmmm haven't used any of this stuff in a while. It struck me like a slap on the forehead. Oh wow! How cool! I was going to have a baby. I was so excited. So was J. He was all puffed up like a peacock proud that he had got me pregnant.

Other than the morning sickness, which lasted well into my 6th month. I felt great during this pregnancy. I felt more alive and more human than I had ever. It didn't matter to me that J was walking around acting like he had created this miracle all by himself. I knew that now I was special. I was a mother, I had someone who I could lavish all my love on and I knew the baby would not reject me. I finally felt like I was really someone. I barely allowed J to share in any thing to do with my pregnancy. Sometimes he would come up and put his hand on my belly and try to feel the baby kick, but I never invited him to.

We argued constantly. We only had his pay to live on and while it was enough for the two of us, it wasn't enough for the baby. I knew that paying the hospital bill alone would be next to imposible but I refused to go to county. I pushed him to find a better paying job, or get a second job. I found that I wanted more time to myself, to spend with my unborn baby anyway. I pushed him to get another job for the money, but more than that, I wanted him out of the house more.

I began to realize that I didn't love J. I never had loved him, but I had fool myself into thinking that I had. But now, I had a hard time even pretending to him that I loved him. Of course, it didn't matter. I was married and I wasn't going to leave him, even if there wasn't a baby involved. I wasn't going to fail at marriage like I failed at every other relationship in my life. That was that. And of course, there was  a baby. I couldn't think of leaving my husband when I had a baby who would need a father.

Our daughter, R. A. was born in August of 1983, one month before J's and my first anniversary. We named her after my step mother and J's mother. She was so beautiful and perfect! I had a terrible time with her delivery. In fact in the end they did an emergency C-section because my labor wasn't progressing and Little R's heart rate went into distress. But none of that mattered after she was born. She was healthy and oh so perfect!  And I was absolutely the happiest I had ever been in my life. I loved this tiny little girl more than anyone I had ever loved in my life.  I would have done anything for her; I would have died for her! I had never known such a wonderous love before.

J, however, seemed to become angry. He was loosing control over me. What he said or did didn't matter to me any more. My life was my child. The bond between myself and little R only proved to grow in strenghth as she grew older. I no longer needed J to make decisions for me. And this was something that J could not abide. Our arguements became more intense and more often. We would have screaming matches about the tiniest of things. The things that we said to each other were horrible. Until one day, J called me a slut. Out of no where, he just said it. He was right in my face, so close that I could feel his hot breath when he said that word and I lost it. I screamed and slapped him. I've never forgotten that I was the first one to turn the fights physical. It haunted me for years. I had done this, I had made J hit me, it was all my fault.

And hit me he did. He hit me so hard that I was knocked to the floor. There on the floor I crumbled into a ball and cried and J left the house, for hours.

When he came home, he appoligized so profusely. He begged me to forgive him and promised he'd never lay a hand on me again. He cried. Of course I forgave him, I had been the first one to hit him after all. We made all the wonderful promises. We'd talk more, we'd not scream at each other, or call names and never, never would we hit each other again.  …. Bla Bla Bla all the right words.

The new found pact to be closer lasted a week. One week! Then we were off again. I can't remember what started that first fight a week later. It was probably something really stupid. But it was just as bad as it had always been, and worse. Because when it was at it's worst, J shoved me to the floor and sat on me. He told me he was tired of my disrespect and he would have some respect from me if it killed me. Suddenly, I believed him.

After that J became more violent very quickly. He would never hit me in the face, where the bruises might show. But he would twist my arms, hit my chest so hard that it knocked the breath out of me and grab me by my hair and slam my head against the floor or furniture. Always, always after wards he would buy me gifts and appoligize with tears and make promises never to do it again.

At some point, I knew that the promises meant nothing. But I wouldn't give up on this marriage. He never did anything in front of Little R. So I thought she was uneffected by it all and she needed a daddy. So that's how I lived. I would stay with J as long as he never hurt Little R in any way. Meanwhile, I was loosing myself again. I began to really try to keep J happy, no matter what that meant. But it was an imposible task. There was always something that I did, or didn't do that angered him.

Much to my amazement, when Little R was about 2 and a half I found myself pregnant again. I was amazed because J and I rarely had sex any more. I avoided him as much as I could as the bed room had become another place that he proved his dominance over me. Of course, I was never allowed to say no to him when he wanted sex. If I did, he'd just hold me down and do it anyway. In fact he seemed to enjoy it all the more that way. So our second child was not conceived in love, or even lust, but in anger and pain.

But none of that mattered when I first started to feel the little flutter feeling of the baby. All the feelings that I had when I was pregnant with little R came back. I was happy again. Another life, coming into this world through me. And I felt wonderful. As with the first pregnancy, I felt healthier during my second pregnancy than I did any other time.

Meanwhile, J had lost his job and we moved in with my Dad and R of all things. The "Never" had come to an end. My dad got a job for J at his work and we didn't fight while we lived with them. So I was happy. Little R was happy. And the baby inside me seemed exstremely happy. I was sure that this baby was also a girl. And I was right.

Latisha Rae was born in November of 1986. Another perfect and beautiful baby girl. Little R was such a great big sister. She was never jeoulos of her baby sister. She wanted to be with L always. She wanted to help take care of her. She was like a tiny little mother. I loved them both so much I felt I would just die of happiness. I was sure that I now had the perfect life. Nothing could possibly go wrong. ….. Until, of course, it did….

Ok, another stopping point here. MY mirror of the past is revealing so much now. I am almost finished with this reflection of my past and I can feel the pressure as I get closer to what changed me forever. I may finish this today, or I may have to take a couple of days off before I can face the next part.

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June 23, 2006 - Posted by | life, past

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