Just a
little history for those who like reading about other people’s stories.
The history of my mom and dad is the typical American love story.. Ya know… Divorced
mother of one (my mom) meets “SD” at a bar, they have sex, “SD” ends up having
a family of his own and when my mom tells “SD” she is pregnant, “SD” told my
mom to get lost or SHE would ruin his family. Sigh Real winner, that one.
So with my Sperm Donor out of the picture, my mother set out
to have me on her own. Now, my mom had been living with one of the worst cases
of MS that the specialists in Washington State had ever documented. She was
advised to abort me, Her mother pleaded with her, worried for her safety. My
mother was told she wouldn’t survive the pregnancy, if she did survive, I
wouldn’t, and if I did… there was only a slim chance I would be born healthy.
My mom chose life, I was born healthy, but she lost the use
of her legs and the doctors told her she would never walk again. My single,
disabled mother of two, didn’t believe them and with determination… she was
eventually able to get out of her wheelchair. She did the very best she could.
She was a very determined woman, but her struggles were just beginning. I don’t
know what caused my mother to lose her mind, the disease, genetics, the medications,
I really don’t expect answers. The
fact remains she did.
Before I left the hospital, a few days old, my mother
thought it’d be okay to feed me mashed potatoes. Even with family taking turns
coming to help her care for us, she’d forget feedings, forget she even had
children for hours at a time. I was hospitalized with a Failure to thrive (FTT). I don’t really
remember anything, being that young, but do know that’s when my 8 year old sister,
H, started caring for me. She was my little mommy. I loved her more than I loved anything else.
My mother wasn’t a monster. I know that a woman has needs, and even with
her illness (turned mental illness), my single mother needed to feel loved, she
needed the attention of men. She’d bring men home and sometimes those men would
find her two little daughters attractive too. Get where I’m going with this?
This I remember clearly. My older sister always did her best to protect me from
the harm these savage men would do. She’d sneak me into her room in a pile of
blankets, she’d lock her doors… she was braver than any child should have to
be. My sister was my protector, my hero. Some days our mother would lose her
patience, her anger usually spewed unto my sister. I remember our mom telling H
things like I was her favorite, how she was ugly... I remember my sister taking
the blame for little insignificant things that I did (not even two years old I
was probably a mess maker) and getting whipped with the cord of the vacuum, and
I remember being left alone, a lot. My sister would hurry back from school each
day to take care of me. Until one day she came home and I wasn’t there.
That day a woman came to the door. I was used to random people coming in
and talking to my mother, we lived blocks away from a Jehovah’s witness church
and really, my mother rarely turned anyone away who came to talk about Jesus.
That day, however, the woman didn’t come to talk about God, She came to remove
me from the home. My mother called me from the kitchen into the livingroom. I
remember the look on her face. The lady offered me a stuffed animal but I was
hesitant to go near her. My mother must have been lucid that day, She was calm,
but her eyes were sad as she forced a smile and said it was alright to go. She
hugged me tight and told me she loved me. The sky was clear, the air was warm
and the calm and gentle movements of my caseworker’s car lulled me to sleep. It
was a short car ride and the crunch of the gravel stirred me awake in time to
watch the car pull in to the driveway of my new life.
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