Chapter 1
This is not an easy book to write. This isn’t fiction, unfortunately, as much as I wish it was. Since I was a little girl, all I wanted in life was to be a wife and a mother. Growing up, my mom and dad had adopted me because my birth mother chose drugs and alcohol over raising a child. I was only five months old however when they adopted me, so I didn’t have any physical memory of this happening, which was good for me.
The scars it left on me though, were forever. Being shifted around as an infant leaves you clingy to people, I’m not a psychiatrist, but I’m assuming it’s because you are afraid that whoever you are close to are going to leave you, like you were left as a baby. Anyways, my parents were so over bearing, so protective, they didn’t let me grow up and learn things on my own.
I didn’t have my own job until I was seventeen, and that was only for the summer, and then right before I was eighteen, I decided I wanted to work as a telemarketer because I was moving out of the house on my eighteenth birthday, and there was nothing they could do to stop me. They both told me this was a bad idea, but of course, at the age of eighteen, what do they know, right?
So to make a long story even longer, eventually, six months after I moved out on my own, I had already met my birth mother, and realized that my parents were right in adopting me. In my particular case, I thank God daily that they adopted me, and I wasn’t left with that woman. My adopted parents and I no longer talk, because my adopted mom seemed to think that after the child turns eighteen, and is out on her own, she’s got her own life, and doesn’t need you at all anymore. She never got that motherly instinct that those of us that have our own children have. I love her, and I am not saying anything bad about her. God Bless her, she just recently found out that she has breast cancer. Luckily, she found it quickly, so they were able to take out the cancer, and give her radiation, and for now, she is in full remission.
My mother is the kind of person though, that my father, bless his heart, has worked the same job for over thirty years now to support her. In fact, two years ago he found out that he had brain cancer, and melanoma, and she was so concerned that he was going to take too much time off work, and they were going to go into debt. I’m definitely laying it all out on the line.
So, moving on, I was eighteen, and I found this guy, across the United States, thirteen hundred miles away, in Florida. He was twenty-six, and an older guy, who knew everything. This guy told me after about two weeks that I wasn’t his type, and for some reason, that sparked something inside of me, to try harder and harder to make him see that I could be a great wife, and make him settle down. Woman, girls, please, if you take one thing from this story, never try to make a man like you. If he says you’re not his type, move on, and find someone that is worth having. Do NOT and I repeat, DO NOT get pregnant, thinking that a baby will change him. Because it won’t.
I wouldn’t go back and change anything because my children are wonderful, but my story is painful. The year I turned 18, was 2001. I had my first beautiful boy in 2003. I thought up until the time that I had him, that I knew what love was. I’ll never forget them laying him on my stomach, as they cleaned him up. He was the most beautiful child I had ever seen in my entire life!!
He had my eyes, and my nose, in fact, he took totally after me. I named my son Zachariah, because I was listening to Christian radio and they were speaking about the book of Zechariah, and I just knew God wanted me to name him Zachariah. As soon as he was born, my life changed. His father had decided to marry me when I was six months pregnant because he said that he came around, and realized that I was the woman he wanted, and he wanted a family, and all of that jazz. He had us living from house to house. One day, when Zach was only 2 weeks old, I sat up from the couch I was sleeping on, and said, NO. I was working as the assistant manager of Dollar General.
His father? Oh, he didn’t work at this time. I just had a baby, and I was out there busting my butt. Every four hours, he would bring my son up there and give him to me for nursing. I loved the time we nursed. It was so bonding.
I took a break and went to go and visit my cousin when my son was one month old. I told her that I wanted to get out, and get my own place, and she agreed. Suddenly, as I was visiting, my son’s father shows up at her house, and asks to see our son. She handed him over, and he ran to the car, and said if I ever wanted to see him again, I’d get in the car immediately.
I wanted, the entire ride back, to run out and tell the gas station lady that I was being kidnapped, but I knew I’d lose my son. As soon as we got back to his uncle’s house, he accused me of cheating on him. I was stitched up to the point where my rectum and vagina were both stitched. So I told him that if I would have cheated on him, I would have been torn open. He took this as me saying he had a small penis, and this other guy had a big one. So to prove his point, he grabbed me, and he raped me on the bed. I had to turn my head, because my son was laying on the bed as this little one month old baby, and he was watching. When he was finished, I held my baby and cried.
The next day at work, I gathered my employees up and told them of my situation. My friend agreed that her boyfriend was going to take my now husband out on a “fake job” hunt, and give me the time that I needed to get out of there.
The night before I left, I looked around where I was living. This house had holes in the floor, rats, roaches, and disease. I didn’t lay my son anywhere but my chest while he slept. I knew I had to do something to better our future. My husband had been trying to get us our place, but every time I had a paycheck, I had to give it to whoever we were staying with. Every bit of food stamps had to go to pay the people we stayed with, because I got one bowl of soup a day, after work. I looked at my husband and I said:
“Would you move back up to Illinois with me?” This is where I was from. He said, no. I said, “What if I told you I was pregnant again?” He said, “hell no, I’ll make it work down here, why are you?” I just changed the subject, and went to sleep.
The next day, bright and early, they came and got him, and I had my chance, I took my paycheck, plus some extra money that my employees and his family gave me to help, and I left. I went on a greyhound, September/October time. When I got to Illinois, my mom was happy to see me. She ran right to me, and grabbed Zach right out of my hands. I was a little taken back that I didn’t get a hug or anything.
Well, she greeted us, but then asked where I was going to stay. She wouldn’t allow us to stay with her, and I didn’t want to burden my grandmother. So, I took my son. I walked the cold snowy streets of Freeport, Illinois, with my son wrapped up in my arms, and found the Salvation Army. They gave me a voucher for three nights at a hotel, to get myself together. I found a place for rent, and I called the woman up.
I’ll never forget it. I told her that I was a new mother, with a baby on its way. I told her I had no money to put down, but if I could have this roof over my head, the Salvation Army would pay the first month rent, and my husband would move up from Florida, and he’d find a job to pay the bills, I just needed help getting started. I knew she was going to hang up on me, but she didn’t!! She actually met me at the apartment and told me it was $240 a month, and she’d waive the first month rent, and deposit, if he would be the maintenance man for all of their properties, and help her husband on the farm they owned. I called him and he immediately said yes.
Our first week there was like a dream. The landlords had plenty of stuff that other tenants had left behind, so they gave it to us, and pretty soon, (within a month) we had a fully furnished apartment. Zach had everything he needed, I was able to stay home with him while my belly continued to grow, and he worked all day. I was happy… for a moment in time.
This is when the accusations and abuse started. Going back really quick, one time, when we were only together for a few months, he smacked me across my face when I was tickling him. Well, as soon as he did it, I ran out of my grandma’s house, where we were living, and he admitted to everyone, my grandparents, and my best friend, what he had done, and he cried and cried.
I thought to myself, this man can’t be that bad if he’s admitting it like this, and crying like he is. So I forgave him, and everyone understood why. Except my grandpa. He told us that we had to leave the house, and this man talked me into taking my grandparents car to go to Florida, and then dropping it off for them to get, or their insurance to pay for. The way he put it, it sounded like a good idea at the time. This was the worst mistake of my life. My grandfather died 2008, the year I ended up losing my kids (thank God he died Jan 1st, and I lost my kids February 14th, so he never knew)
So, because he had to work all day, and I was left at home, and this was my home town, where I was born and raised, he thought that I had men in and out of the apartment all day and night, and was constantly having sex. He had issues with sex, because of drugs that he had taken as a younger man, and self-conscious issues, so he blamed it on me.
One time, we got into a fight, and I wanted to leave with my best friend, and right as she was pulling up, he grabbed me and threw me on the bed, and choked me, making me foam at the mouth. He laughed when I came too, and said I looked so funny when I was foaming at the mouth. I’d leave, with my friend, and swear that I was going to never come back, but he would call, and ask to see the baby, and he’d promise that he’d never touch me again.
You can read the rest of this story from any of the major book sellers, or also at http://www.vincestead.com or http://www.fun2readbooks.com You can also listen to it in Audio.
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