"She is clothed in strength and dignity

and she laughs without fear of the future. "

~~Proverbs 31:25

 

 

 

 

 

🎵"...and I did it...my way-ay-ay-ay......" 🎶

 

Thank you. You've been great! No, please. Please. Stop!

😌

 

 

Welcome to my journey! This isn't just a tale; it's a work in progress, in God's perfect timing. 

In the beginning...

    The fact that I was born in the middle of the worst thunderstorm my mother (aka, "Erica Kane" from 'All My Children' 😉) had ever seen in their little one-horse, one-stoplight town shoulda been foretelling. And it was a Wed. 🙅 Don't say it! And in the middle of the afternoon. 2:33pm to be exact. My naptime, dontcha know? Grrrr! Open book test later. Take good notes. Oh, yeah--AND my name was supposed to have been David Donald C. What's that tell ya? 😏 No, seriously. I'm curious. 

     Anywhoo, after my miraculous conception 🙈 and birthing, I emerged discouraged, yet intrigued. 🤔

     I was exceptionally adorable, therefore I was sexually assaulted at age 4. By a longtime family friend. And it's ok. It was then and it is now. We were kids. We're both alcoholics now and we're both in a good place. Now. Maybe I will let him know someday that I know it happened. I have to tell him I forgive him, for his sake as well as mine.

     So while my parents had a thing for one another, they didn't necessarily like each other. Mom developed a taste for chronic "creative restructuring of the truth" (can't take the credit for that expression, dang it!) and Pops developed a fondness for the grass in the other cow pasture(s). 🐄🐂 And Mummy later took up a shine for Mountain Dew. See where this here path is a-going? 

     So my mean OLDER sister and I grew up without being shoved into church too much. Summers we spent here growing up, well, one of us did, somewhat, and were dragged inta the holy place every Sun. rain, shine, death, no matter--all spit-shined and Lifebouy-mouthwashed and all. Grandma sat buckled in the front, one arm resting on the back of Her pew, always at the ready armed with a crab apple or 3. We couldn't get away with nothing! Dang if that feisty woman couldn't speedball one without looking and the dadgummed thing would boomerang 19 miles down the valley and back and STILL catch us square upside the head--before homing back to her. Cleveland Indians had nothing on her, I'll tell ya. The Greatest And Strongest Woman Who Ever Lived. Gone 30 some years now and she's STILL a legend in this whole valley. God blessed her soul. Miss ya, Miss Daisy. Waitin' to hug yer neck again, Ma'am. And for a pan of your biscuits with homemade cow butter, your blackberry preserves, and a hunk a peanut butter fudge. Lawd, Lawd.....

     But I digress. So in between summer beatings on the farm, and ordinary beatings the rest of the academic year, I grew up Up North "in the other world" with my mean OLDER sister beating me up on a regular basis as she escaped Mommy Dearest and Daddy worked all the time to keep away from her. Don't let me mislead you--there were "Good Times" with J.J. and Thelma, the Skipper & Gilligan, too--even with Mr. Green Jeans (kinda creepy! 👽), but Moms & Pops didn't have FT role models because folks back then had to work the farms & kids were meant to hesh up & do as they were told! So, what did I do to "escape?" 

     Well, following in Big Sister's clodhoppers (relax!! no one knows we're kin, for goodness sake! 😝) later on down our shared road, I ran away. Brilliant choice! Thank You, God, for preventing the serial killers from killing me! I'm so sorry, Mama. I never told you in life. So I surprised my really cool 😎 brother-in-law with his kid sis showing up on his doorstep, expecting all to be just as proud of me as I was! Awesomely, his parents were far more knowing, took me out back for a come-ta-Jesus-meetin', proceeded to learn me the error 'o my ways, and catapulted my butt to their church, where I was immediately pushed into a 'foot-washin' and was saved! Hallelujah!!! Whoo-ooo-oo-OOOhh-doggies!!! Sorry 'bout the lightning' strikes, folks. My bad. 🙀 Thank you, Mr.& Mrs. W.! Miss y'all, too. 😘

     So in our redneck fam, it was "understood" (mis-, by most of us) that if you weren't knocked up--AFTER your shotgun wedding, mind you--by age 16 or so, that you were a dried up Old Maid 👵 and banned from The Club! 😆 My marriage surprisingly lasted 23 years. Go figure. But that's because he came from a good family from the "right" side of the tracks. Thank you, Mom & Dad G. May you both rest pepeacefully. 💕

 

March 4, 1985: The night I finally went into labor, all I could think of was the little white house with the yellow roses and the picket fence. Oh, boy, oh, boy, oh, GIRL!!!! C'MON, CHRISTMAS!!!

 

💃🏡✨🎄🎉🎈🌟🎁🎇🎆🎇🎆🎇🎆🎇🎆🌟🎁🎈🎉🎄🏡💃

 

     My husband, 23, and I, 19, were away from home for the first time in our lives, parents in their own homes and towns, not eagerly waiting in the waiting room like in the movies. I had no friends. I'd kicked all his poker buddies out at 1am because my man should have been focused on me and the blessed event, not drinking! We had already went earlier in the evening to the hospital when I thought the Titanic had run aground--in the bed--only to be sent home to wait it out. Wait???!!!! I'd been waiting all my 19 years!!! 

     So he invites the guys over. And they don't leave. Until they saw my sawed off. 'Nuff said, boys. 🙅 So off we go again! My doc never showed. Later a nurse "happened" to hear distress on the baby monitor as she "happened" to walk fast past my room & called in an off duty Doc who just "happened" to be near the hospital exit at the time. He broke the Titanic pool (dear God in Heaven! Thanks, Eve!!) and they whipped me into surgery where the incredibly talented anesthesiologist jabbed her 17" machete into and out of my spinal column 427 times waiting for me to tell her when I was "in between contractions." 🙌 WAIT for me to tell you, Lady! Really??!!! Laying there, smiling at the clock above that little tent screen thing they used to use to shield your virgin eyes from your own ahem, bodily features and natural functions, the only other thing I could see was the swim caps of a nurse and the Evil Anesthetist. I finally sigh at the clock and get up the gumption to ask, 🙋 "Um, excuse me, please, but so when do I get to see my baby?🐣 I don't mean to complain, but it sure is taking a long time to cut through all the layers of skin, isn't it?" They glance nervously at one another. Painfully long and telling pause. Crickets.....

     "Uh--your little girl is already down the hall. They're taking care of her there. You'll see her soon." Buh-bye now. Gotta run. 😕

     Oh, sorry. It's just that I'm so excited and I've been waiting ever so long!

     .....Wait! ✋ What??? I was waiting to hear the cry! Why didnt she cry? She? A girl! I had a girl!!! I've been waiting so patiently, like a good girl, for you to lay my baby in my arms--just like in the movies! And you don't have the basic human decency to even bother to tell me my child had been BORN, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD!!! Whatdoyamean???!!! STOP!!!!!!! Can't you hear me? My lips are moving! My body won't but listen to me!! Please!! Is this the way its supposed to be? I'm just a kid! I don't know! Where's my "Doctor?" Where's my husband? Where the HELL is my Mom!!!???!!! Dear God, where are YOU????!!!

    I knew in my heart of hearts when I first started feeling the contractions that my fairy tale would never happen. I'd known from the beginning of conception, actually looking back. There were so many things that clearly pointed to it but I was blind. Because I was a KID WITH NO COPING SKILLS. My stunned husband was sobbing with all his heart when he came to me in Recovery, where someone slammed me back on the bed because "I should've known I had to lie flat for 24 hours!" Oh, pardon my ignorance. So sorry to have inconvenienced you! I went into shock because running away, remember, is my M.O. I kept smiling at him, telling him not to cry because everything was "going to be all sunshine and yellow roses!" We'd be going home in the morning--WITH OUR BABY!!!! And "Life would be happy every after for us!" 👨‍👩‍👧

    I had lost so much spinal fluid that I was in INHUMANE PAIN if I even tried to lift my eyes up to see who was talking to me in the first 3 days after. They closed the wing to my room out of respect. A social worker came to see me--when I was alone--no counsel available. She talked on & on about life rights, pulling the plug, and how I "could still have more." Don't ever say that to anyone who has lost a child. Ever. 

    My sister hauled our Mom up from the 2 hour drive (3 for my sister & my sweet young nephews!). Mom had a car but was also very busy with one of her boyfriends, so I'm grateful that she could squeeze me in. Anyway, they were able to stay that one day. My oldest nephew, 4 at the time, cried like his little heart was breaking! I had no idea children that young were capable of grasping what it all meant! Love you, Buddy, for that. YOU were 4!!! And yet you knew more than your Grandmother. 💏

    When my Dad died when I was 16, I went mute with the pain & not knowing what to do with my anger at the world. Mom had taken me to a "counselor" who had bluntly and compassionatelessly informed her not to waste her $$ because if I wouldn't talk, he couldn't help me. Yeah....So I ran away where no one could touch me. I became angry at my friends because they should realize that the world had stopped turning! How dare they kid around and act like it hadn't! I started skipping school. When I did go, I sat silently and invisibly drew or wrote poetry. Only one adult reached out to me during this time. When my algebra teacher called me out into the hallway one day during a quiz, I knew I was in for it. She surprised me by asking if she could pray for me. Whew! Uhh-um, okay....An offended non-Christian overheard her and she was suspended by the end of the day for a few weeks. 1982. This is how we "helped" children at risk in 1982! She was the only one to have seen and respected what was happening to me. At 60, I think of and pray for her often. Thank you, Mrs. R. You're A REAL Teacher--my role model for the future! 🤗 I say all that to say this, in escaping the eyes of all the mandatory adult observers in my life, escaping from life in general, I retreated within myself to the point that I physically could not talk. 

    Losing a child will do that to a young, scared, devastated mother also.

    My husband had no clue as to how to help me. My sister did but was too far way, though she tried. A parent "counselor" came to help me but she got more therapy out of our one visit than me because she could only focus on her infant son at the time. I was the failure, not others. I'd been raised all my life that everything was my fault. So, I ran away even further--from myself and reality. It was during this time that my new Dr., the one who cared enough to be there to deliver my Rachel, sat down square in front of me, placed his Fatherly hands gently on either side of my face, and with a firm, startling shake, bluntly told me that I "had to stop this! Now. You're not pregnant again. It's only been 5 weeks. You just now told me you and your husband are not yet having relations again. You've got to face reality, child. You can't POSSIBLY be pregnant! You have to stop making new appointments, Lisa!" No, I don't! You can't make me! You can't make my husband love me any more than you can bring my baby back, damn you! Whatd'youknow?! 

 

Taking a break here. Gotta go fishing. Be back soon. 😊

 

 

"If my story helps just one person find something worthwhile to help in their recovery, then my shame & pain was worth it."

Lisa G.

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