I can't count how many appearances I made inside the family courthouse, only to have my heart crushed more each time I came and exited.
It was time for my son to start preschool, and the judge had ordered for my parents as well as myself, explore both options about school. We were instructed to go together to look at the school of her choice, and the school of mine. Well, I actually did as I was asked, but my mother didn't and when I told the judge, there was no consequences handed to her for failure to follow court orders.
There is no way to explain what was really taken place, other than corruption at it's finest. That is the only way I can explain it, because in reality, I know that's what was going on.
I had called child protective services so many times, for them to only never go and really investigate. They took my calls as if I was only calling in spite, but in reality I had a very real reason to be calling, but they never interfered and protected my child, like they were obligated too.
My son was around 4 or 5 years old, and I had learned that my brother who was probably around 15 or 16 at the time was actually showering with my son. My stomach had turned at the information, and I was livid. I had called my parents and told them under no circumstances was that to happen ever again, and I could tell in the sound of her voice that she was laughing it off, like it was no big deal.
I mean, that's fucking weird and I didn't even bath with my child, so why in the hell would my brother physically take a shower with him? So, I called cps and talked to them on the phone, and I will never forget the conversation between us.
I actually told them about my brother showering with my son and how uncomfortable I was with that occurring and literally, no shit, the cps worker told me that it was no big deal and that my brother and son had a special bond. I felt sick to my stomach.
Shortly after I had made that call to cps, my parents took my son and left the county. I would now be even farther away from my son. At the sound of hearing that, I instantly dropped to my knees and cried. I remember hitting the floor with my fist over and over again. I was thinking to myself what the fuck was I going to do?
Once my parents got settled in the new county, my son began to change. I was really worried about his mental and physical well being. He was going around saying that he wanted to commit suicide and I had never heard a child say something like this, so a red flag went straight up in my head.
I again contacted cps over how my son was behaving and told them I believed that my son was being sexually molested, and in response was saying he wanted to commit suicide and I was scared that my son would really attempt it. Nothing ever got done and no investigation was ever opened up with this accusation.
I was having a hard time holding myself together and being strong for my children. I didn't want them to see me broken, but I was beyond broken, I was shattered to a million little pieces.
I felt so hopeless, and the only ounce of hope that I could hold onto was the fact, that with my parents now being in a different county, I had the chance to have a new judge hear my case, which meant it could have a different outcome than as before.
I began to gather all my evidence up, and my witnesses to everything that had all occurred over the years and began to prepare myself to go in front of the judge to plead and beg for him to see the truth.
I would have to wait for awhile for that day to arrive. In the meantime, I spent as much time as I possibly could with my son.
**to be continued**
Monday, May 23, 2016
Part 6
After my experience of being sent to a mental hospital, I will be the first to admit of how pissed off I was for having to endure that in the first fucking place when I was just doing what every mother would, and that's fight for her kid.
My mother refused at first to let me see my son as the judge had ordered as we still shared joint custody.
I felt so helpless and had no where to turn. I began to get depression and was having really bad anxiety attacks.
I had spoken with a couple people who had advise for me to bring up my childhood experiences and what had happened to me as a child, to show that my son shouldn't be there. I knew that had to be done, but I also knew I would have to prove everything against my parents, and also open up doors that I closed so long ago.
I remember sitting on my bed thinking of how I was going to prove everything. My parents tried to make it out as I had abandoned my son, and was never around. I had pictures which was the best type of evidence to prove her otherwise.
I anxiously awaited for my day in court. I had thought that with the photo evidence and everything that I had to prove my case, that I surely would win. I was waiting to have my satisfaction against them in court.
I still had weeks away, so I needed to find something to keep my mind occupied for the time being or I wouldn't have made it.
I poured myself in work. I would work double shifts most days and would fill my time drinking and making money. That was the only thing that really helped me keep my mind of things. I found being drunk would cause me to forget my problems, so drinking I would do on a daily basis.
I was becoming a different person over night. I was becoming more angry and was getting into fights more at work with other women, and home was not excluded either. That is where the worst fights would occur. My life was now flipping upside down and becoming a big mess all because I couldn't control my emotions.
It's now been awhile and I am still having issues over things, but I will go on to explain the rest of my story later. It's now time to get Kaitlyn and Layden ready to go to the dentist.
Until I write again, peace out!
My mother refused at first to let me see my son as the judge had ordered as we still shared joint custody.
I felt so helpless and had no where to turn. I began to get depression and was having really bad anxiety attacks.
I had spoken with a couple people who had advise for me to bring up my childhood experiences and what had happened to me as a child, to show that my son shouldn't be there. I knew that had to be done, but I also knew I would have to prove everything against my parents, and also open up doors that I closed so long ago.
I remember sitting on my bed thinking of how I was going to prove everything. My parents tried to make it out as I had abandoned my son, and was never around. I had pictures which was the best type of evidence to prove her otherwise.
I anxiously awaited for my day in court. I had thought that with the photo evidence and everything that I had to prove my case, that I surely would win. I was waiting to have my satisfaction against them in court.
I still had weeks away, so I needed to find something to keep my mind occupied for the time being or I wouldn't have made it.
I poured myself in work. I would work double shifts most days and would fill my time drinking and making money. That was the only thing that really helped me keep my mind of things. I found being drunk would cause me to forget my problems, so drinking I would do on a daily basis.
I was becoming a different person over night. I was becoming more angry and was getting into fights more at work with other women, and home was not excluded either. That is where the worst fights would occur. My life was now flipping upside down and becoming a big mess all because I couldn't control my emotions.
It's now been awhile and I am still having issues over things, but I will go on to explain the rest of my story later. It's now time to get Kaitlyn and Layden ready to go to the dentist.
Until I write again, peace out!
Continued part 5 : The trip to the mental ward
The next morning I had woken up as usual and got ready for work. I was broke and needed money not only for bills and food, but for the upcoming attorney fees that I was bond to collect.
As I am sitting there at work, my cellphone rings and it's Jason. I answer the phone as I am walking back to the girls dressing room to escape the sound of loud music.
The words that came out of his mouth was words that I never thought that I would hear. My mom had said I had assaulted her and was on drugs and all kinds of stuff. She tried to say that I was abusive to Jason and pretty much beat the hell out of him. I was an alcoholic, crackhead, coke addict, you name it, I was listed as one. She had went and filed an mental health warrant on me.
Jason had told me that the sheriff's office just left, and I began to freak out after he said he explained what really occurred between my mom and me, and they said regardless I would have to go get screened because it was already signed by the judge. I started to think of what the hell I was now going to do. I didn't want to go to jail or a crazy hospital either. Both sounded bad in itself.
Once, I had the clear that the police was no longer at my house I left work and headed for home. To be honest, I had actually contemplated on running, but knew in the end, that would not be a good decision, so I discussed with Jason about turning myself in and getting it over with. Well after kissing my kids and him goodbye, that is just what I did.
That is an experience that I will never forget! I had actually arrived at the hospital and they had me take a seat in the waiting room. I had told them why I was there and that I was turning myself in, and they informed me that the police still had to come because it was a warrant, even though I am actually already there, that they still had to be the ones to take me in on a warrant.
I sat in the emergency room waiting room for over an hour for the police to be able to come and take care of my warrant. They walked inside the hospital emergency room, and because this was the university of Louisville and was in the worst part of downtown, it was packed with people waiting to be seen.
They called my name and I slowly stood up and nervously walked over to the two officers standing waiting on me.
They started to read me my rights, and placed my hands in handcuffs. I could feel the stares from what seemed like millions of eyes. The escorted me into a triage room where they began to explain what all was going on and read me why I had a mental health warrant out against me.
I started crying when the charges were read. I had explained to the officer what I was going through, and said if I would've known that I was going to have to go through this because she is saying I hit her and it left bruises and stuff, that I would've really hit her. I asked them that if I had hit her and she filed charges saying that, then wouldn't there be some kind of evidence of that occurring? Did they photograph her when she said these things? Those questions were never answered and to this day I have never seen a photograph. I never hit her, so I knew if there was a photo then she had faked it like she lied when she made all the accusations that she did,
The officers had me sign some paperwork and they handed me a gown and some slippers and a female officer escorted me to the ladies bathroom and had me change my clothes.
I will admit that once everything began to go on, I was starting to get scared. I had never been through this and the thought about entering into a mental hospital scared the shit out of me. I was worrying about my children. Jason was left to be in charge, and our daughter Kaitlyn was only a week or two old when I was going through this.
As we reached the corner to the mental ward, my stomach was in knots. I felt like I was going to throw up and I was feeling like I was now going to be stuck in a mental hospital never to have freedom again. I was feeling like she was wanting me to go through what my birth mother had went through.
You see, I was taken from my birth mother because she was mentally ill. So when I was now being placed into a mental hospital, I am sure you can begin to understand why I was having these thoughts.
I was placed into what I call, a holding cell as you wait to see the Dr. with a bunch of other people. As a female, I wasn't placed in a room without men. It was like they threw me in there with a bunch of mentally ill men and there was only one other woman, and she was all in the fetal position rocking back and forth.
The other men in the room was talking to themselves and one was without any legs and had said he had been sitting in his wheelchair for hours and was starting to get sores from not being able to be properly moved. I knew then, that I wouldn't have no way of getting out anytime soon. So I grabbed a spot next to the telephone and phoned Jason and checked on the kids and talked to him for as long as I was allowed to. Luckily, I was able to stay on the phone until the doctor called my name.
When she finally did, she had me step into the bathroom which had no door on it whatsoever. I was told that I had to pee in a cup, which I already knew was for a drug screen. I remember asking why she had to watch me and that it wasn't right to make me use a bathroom that was wide open, do door and no walls with the holding cell just a few feet away and there was a glass window which allowed for the patients inside the room to see the bathroom in which I was now standing..
I hurried and filled the cup and we headed to her office to discuss what I was accused of. I quietly said a prayer to God asking for his assistance for the truth to be shown and for be to be given freedom. I had been told as we were approaching her office door, that they had actually already signed off for me to stay for 365 days, My mouth fucking dropped and I began to cry as I thought about my kids and Jason.
I was so thrilled after learning I had to be screened before that was a possibility and they had to speak with someone that could tell them my side of things from a different prespective, so they called Jason's mom. Then after getting the clear to be released and to be cleared as not a drug addict I was able to go home.
I went home and hugged my family a little bit tighter and prayed hard for god to hear my prayer and return my son and allow me to now have this stress no more. As I was getting screened, my son had been returned back to my mother. I couldn't understand why this was happening to me and what I could do. I was running out of options.
** to be continued**
As I am sitting there at work, my cellphone rings and it's Jason. I answer the phone as I am walking back to the girls dressing room to escape the sound of loud music.
The words that came out of his mouth was words that I never thought that I would hear. My mom had said I had assaulted her and was on drugs and all kinds of stuff. She tried to say that I was abusive to Jason and pretty much beat the hell out of him. I was an alcoholic, crackhead, coke addict, you name it, I was listed as one. She had went and filed an mental health warrant on me.
Jason had told me that the sheriff's office just left, and I began to freak out after he said he explained what really occurred between my mom and me, and they said regardless I would have to go get screened because it was already signed by the judge. I started to think of what the hell I was now going to do. I didn't want to go to jail or a crazy hospital either. Both sounded bad in itself.
Once, I had the clear that the police was no longer at my house I left work and headed for home. To be honest, I had actually contemplated on running, but knew in the end, that would not be a good decision, so I discussed with Jason about turning myself in and getting it over with. Well after kissing my kids and him goodbye, that is just what I did.
That is an experience that I will never forget! I had actually arrived at the hospital and they had me take a seat in the waiting room. I had told them why I was there and that I was turning myself in, and they informed me that the police still had to come because it was a warrant, even though I am actually already there, that they still had to be the ones to take me in on a warrant.
I sat in the emergency room waiting room for over an hour for the police to be able to come and take care of my warrant. They walked inside the hospital emergency room, and because this was the university of Louisville and was in the worst part of downtown, it was packed with people waiting to be seen.
They called my name and I slowly stood up and nervously walked over to the two officers standing waiting on me.
They started to read me my rights, and placed my hands in handcuffs. I could feel the stares from what seemed like millions of eyes. The escorted me into a triage room where they began to explain what all was going on and read me why I had a mental health warrant out against me.
I started crying when the charges were read. I had explained to the officer what I was going through, and said if I would've known that I was going to have to go through this because she is saying I hit her and it left bruises and stuff, that I would've really hit her. I asked them that if I had hit her and she filed charges saying that, then wouldn't there be some kind of evidence of that occurring? Did they photograph her when she said these things? Those questions were never answered and to this day I have never seen a photograph. I never hit her, so I knew if there was a photo then she had faked it like she lied when she made all the accusations that she did,
The officers had me sign some paperwork and they handed me a gown and some slippers and a female officer escorted me to the ladies bathroom and had me change my clothes.
I will admit that once everything began to go on, I was starting to get scared. I had never been through this and the thought about entering into a mental hospital scared the shit out of me. I was worrying about my children. Jason was left to be in charge, and our daughter Kaitlyn was only a week or two old when I was going through this.
As we reached the corner to the mental ward, my stomach was in knots. I felt like I was going to throw up and I was feeling like I was now going to be stuck in a mental hospital never to have freedom again. I was feeling like she was wanting me to go through what my birth mother had went through.
You see, I was taken from my birth mother because she was mentally ill. So when I was now being placed into a mental hospital, I am sure you can begin to understand why I was having these thoughts.
I was placed into what I call, a holding cell as you wait to see the Dr. with a bunch of other people. As a female, I wasn't placed in a room without men. It was like they threw me in there with a bunch of mentally ill men and there was only one other woman, and she was all in the fetal position rocking back and forth.
The other men in the room was talking to themselves and one was without any legs and had said he had been sitting in his wheelchair for hours and was starting to get sores from not being able to be properly moved. I knew then, that I wouldn't have no way of getting out anytime soon. So I grabbed a spot next to the telephone and phoned Jason and checked on the kids and talked to him for as long as I was allowed to. Luckily, I was able to stay on the phone until the doctor called my name.
When she finally did, she had me step into the bathroom which had no door on it whatsoever. I was told that I had to pee in a cup, which I already knew was for a drug screen. I remember asking why she had to watch me and that it wasn't right to make me use a bathroom that was wide open, do door and no walls with the holding cell just a few feet away and there was a glass window which allowed for the patients inside the room to see the bathroom in which I was now standing..
I hurried and filled the cup and we headed to her office to discuss what I was accused of. I quietly said a prayer to God asking for his assistance for the truth to be shown and for be to be given freedom. I had been told as we were approaching her office door, that they had actually already signed off for me to stay for 365 days, My mouth fucking dropped and I began to cry as I thought about my kids and Jason.
I was so thrilled after learning I had to be screened before that was a possibility and they had to speak with someone that could tell them my side of things from a different prespective, so they called Jason's mom. Then after getting the clear to be released and to be cleared as not a drug addict I was able to go home.
I went home and hugged my family a little bit tighter and prayed hard for god to hear my prayer and return my son and allow me to now have this stress no more. As I was getting screened, my son had been returned back to my mother. I couldn't understand why this was happening to me and what I could do. I was running out of options.
** to be continued**
Part Four and then some
I eventually was able to go to court and for some reason, beyond my understanding they granted my mother and myself joint custody.
We had to alternate the days that we had my son.
I had a hard time understanding how this could ever be possible. I had asked for an attorney because I couldn't afford one on my own. I was told that they don't offer attorneys for cases like mine. I was stunned and heart broken at the same time.
I knew that I would need an attorney to even have a chance for justice to be served and for what was only right and that was for me to have my son back.
You see, my parents have money and they are the type of people who let you know that they will spend whatever they have to in order to get what they want.
I was instantly worried about that because here I was struggling to pay my bills as a young mother, and here they were able to pay for whatever they wanted. Shit, they could travel anywhere at any given time that they wanted.
I knew that I would have a hell of a fight in front of me, but I didn't care. I was willing to go through whatever I had to, in order to get my son to be able to come back home.
I was having a hard time understanding because cps or child protective services were not involved. I had no prior complaints about me parenting and still none had been filed. I hadn't done anything wrong for this to have ever taken place.
I had my daughter at the time, and had full custody of her. So I was thinking that if I was so unfit to care for my son, wouldn't they come and take my daughter? Well, nobody ever did. I was never given a list of things detailing what I had to do to get full custody of him back. So I knew that it would be a long and very worthy fight.
One day, I came up with a plan and got my sister involved to help me be successful at it. She went with me and picked up my son, and told our mother that we was only taking him to lunch and then back. She had actually let us leave the house with him. I instantly didn't have any plans to bring him back, regardless of what Shelly had thought or been under the impression.
She dropped us off at my house and we walked inside and started to enjoy having some real family time. I watched him and Jason play on the game system, and Nate was so happy. He was just giggling up a storm and it really warmed my heart.
It wasn't long before our happiness was short lived. My mother actually pulled up and began to actually run her fat ass up the hill in my front yard. I actually had my son on my hip at the time, and she came up yelling, "Give me my son!" to which I replied, "This is my son and you need to leave and get off my property right now before I have you arrested."
My threats didn't phase her, because she started to grab my son by his leg and began pulling on him trying to attempt to pull him out of my arms. I wouldn't lose my grip on him and I remember screaming to Jason to go and call 911. When she had began to grab his leg, I started to stick my hand out in front of myself to shield her from touching him. When she kept grabbing him, I did tell her that I would beat her ass if she didn't let go of him, and I kinda shoved her away. She then angrily turned around and got into her van and pulled off. I knew that this was the start of my real fight now.
I had thought that once my mother had gotten to her house that she would call my sisters and tell them a different story. I thought that they would show up and I would have to fight them, but they didn't show up. In fact, that night surprisingly nobody did.
We had to alternate the days that we had my son.
I had a hard time understanding how this could ever be possible. I had asked for an attorney because I couldn't afford one on my own. I was told that they don't offer attorneys for cases like mine. I was stunned and heart broken at the same time.
I knew that I would need an attorney to even have a chance for justice to be served and for what was only right and that was for me to have my son back.
You see, my parents have money and they are the type of people who let you know that they will spend whatever they have to in order to get what they want.
I was instantly worried about that because here I was struggling to pay my bills as a young mother, and here they were able to pay for whatever they wanted. Shit, they could travel anywhere at any given time that they wanted.
I knew that I would have a hell of a fight in front of me, but I didn't care. I was willing to go through whatever I had to, in order to get my son to be able to come back home.
I was having a hard time understanding because cps or child protective services were not involved. I had no prior complaints about me parenting and still none had been filed. I hadn't done anything wrong for this to have ever taken place.
I had my daughter at the time, and had full custody of her. So I was thinking that if I was so unfit to care for my son, wouldn't they come and take my daughter? Well, nobody ever did. I was never given a list of things detailing what I had to do to get full custody of him back. So I knew that it would be a long and very worthy fight.
One day, I came up with a plan and got my sister involved to help me be successful at it. She went with me and picked up my son, and told our mother that we was only taking him to lunch and then back. She had actually let us leave the house with him. I instantly didn't have any plans to bring him back, regardless of what Shelly had thought or been under the impression.
She dropped us off at my house and we walked inside and started to enjoy having some real family time. I watched him and Jason play on the game system, and Nate was so happy. He was just giggling up a storm and it really warmed my heart.
It wasn't long before our happiness was short lived. My mother actually pulled up and began to actually run her fat ass up the hill in my front yard. I actually had my son on my hip at the time, and she came up yelling, "Give me my son!" to which I replied, "This is my son and you need to leave and get off my property right now before I have you arrested."
My threats didn't phase her, because she started to grab my son by his leg and began pulling on him trying to attempt to pull him out of my arms. I wouldn't lose my grip on him and I remember screaming to Jason to go and call 911. When she had began to grab his leg, I started to stick my hand out in front of myself to shield her from touching him. When she kept grabbing him, I did tell her that I would beat her ass if she didn't let go of him, and I kinda shoved her away. She then angrily turned around and got into her van and pulled off. I knew that this was the start of my real fight now.
I had thought that once my mother had gotten to her house that she would call my sisters and tell them a different story. I thought that they would show up and I would have to fight them, but they didn't show up. In fact, that night surprisingly nobody did.
Continued 3
The next day when I had awoken, I awoke to the sunlight beaming on my face. I was hoping that was my sign that it would be a better day than the day before.
I grabbed my cell phone and a cigarette and walked outside to Jason's front porch and sat down on one of the two white chairs that was neatly placed on the tiny porch. I reached into my pocket and took out my lighter and lit my cigaretter. I slowly inhaled and exhaled taking in every breath of nicotine that I could.
I was going over what I was going to say to my parents when they answered the phone. I didn't want to instantly start fighting, even though deep down I wanted to almost hit her for taking my son. I knew that arguing with her wouldn't get me anywhere, so I needed to calmly and rationally talk to her.
I was quite surprised when she quietly answered the phone, especially because the night before she ignored everyone like I hadn't exsisted.
We talked on the phone for a few minutes and I told her that I was coming to pick up my son, but she still refused. I broke down and begged her to tell me why I couldn't have my child, the child I carried inside my young body, and the child that I bore birth to.
She went on about how I was so young, and that I needed to get myself together and then I could have my son.
That just wasn't good enough for me, so I had picked up the phone and again phoned the police to only be told the same thing as the night before. I felt like hurting my mother. I was seeing red. I had all these feelings of rage take over me, and I was ready for a war, and a war is what I was going to give them.
Being now 19 and never having any experience about what was taking place, I didn't know what to do. It took every ounce of strength that I had to not go over and smash my parents door down and just grab my son. I knew if I did that that the police would be called and then I would go to jail. I didn't want to give the police or the judge any reason for me to not be allowed to have my son, so I had to find some kind of strength to refrain myself.
I had began to phone different attorneys seeking advice as to what to do. I was advise to set a court date and go in front of the judge, so I went down to the court house and began to file the needed paperwork.
I was like a zombie walking about. I was filled with so many different emotions, but mostly I was hurting and missing my son. He was all that I could think about. I remember waking up constantly through the night, just knowing that my son was up crying at that same moment. I knew that had to be what was waking me up, and it hurt that I couldn't be there to bend over his cradle and pick him up and give him the comfort that he needed from his mother.
*** To be continued***
I grabbed my cell phone and a cigarette and walked outside to Jason's front porch and sat down on one of the two white chairs that was neatly placed on the tiny porch. I reached into my pocket and took out my lighter and lit my cigaretter. I slowly inhaled and exhaled taking in every breath of nicotine that I could.
I was going over what I was going to say to my parents when they answered the phone. I didn't want to instantly start fighting, even though deep down I wanted to almost hit her for taking my son. I knew that arguing with her wouldn't get me anywhere, so I needed to calmly and rationally talk to her.
I was quite surprised when she quietly answered the phone, especially because the night before she ignored everyone like I hadn't exsisted.
We talked on the phone for a few minutes and I told her that I was coming to pick up my son, but she still refused. I broke down and begged her to tell me why I couldn't have my child, the child I carried inside my young body, and the child that I bore birth to.
She went on about how I was so young, and that I needed to get myself together and then I could have my son.
That just wasn't good enough for me, so I had picked up the phone and again phoned the police to only be told the same thing as the night before. I felt like hurting my mother. I was seeing red. I had all these feelings of rage take over me, and I was ready for a war, and a war is what I was going to give them.
Being now 19 and never having any experience about what was taking place, I didn't know what to do. It took every ounce of strength that I had to not go over and smash my parents door down and just grab my son. I knew if I did that that the police would be called and then I would go to jail. I didn't want to give the police or the judge any reason for me to not be allowed to have my son, so I had to find some kind of strength to refrain myself.
I had began to phone different attorneys seeking advice as to what to do. I was advise to set a court date and go in front of the judge, so I went down to the court house and began to file the needed paperwork.
I was like a zombie walking about. I was filled with so many different emotions, but mostly I was hurting and missing my son. He was all that I could think about. I remember waking up constantly through the night, just knowing that my son was up crying at that same moment. I knew that had to be what was waking me up, and it hurt that I couldn't be there to bend over his cradle and pick him up and give him the comfort that he needed from his mother.
*** To be continued***
Continued part 2
The days before my son was born, my family and myself went through hell and back. My aunt Barbara actually passed away from breast cancer. She had fought a long and hard battle and finally was at peace again.
I remember it was a day or two after her funeral when my labor pains actually began. I had stayed with my sister Shelly, and I always babysat my niece while she was working.
We had just moved into a new apartment which was in a better neighborhood. So at the time the house phone and stuff wasn't hooked up. I began to have some cramps and stuff but I shook it off.
Well, the following morning I woke up and had to start shaking the bunk bed to wake my niece. I made her go and get her mom's phone and I called my mother to come pick me up.
Instead of her taking me to the hospital, she actually took me to her house. I kept telling her that I was in labor and needed to go to the hospital. She disagreed and sent me to soak in the tub.
I couldn't sit in the tub longer than 5 minutes before I was out getting dressed and grabbing my suitcase. I went into the kitchen where my mother was cooking for easter sunday which was the next day. I looked at her and I told her that I needed to go. When she said no, it's just false labor pains, and that they were just going to send me home, I grabbed my suitcase by the handle and headed out the door.
I was halfway down the block when my dad pulled up and told me to get in. He would take me to the hospital if I really thought it was time. Because I was positive that it was, and I didn't think I would make it walking, I climbed inside my dad's pickup truck.
When we pulled up at the hospital's drop off lane, my dad shot me a glance and asked me if I wanted him to come in with me for support. I thought that would be weird my dad watching my give birth and me being naked, so I refused and said I could do it by myself. After all, I had made it this far.
So, I am sure you are probably wondering about where the man is that got me pregnant, right? Well, he was in the picture for the most part at this point, but was starting to be a different person once it started getting closer for me to give birth.
I had bought everything for my son myself, and what I didn't purchase I had received from my baby shower. Hell, people thought I was going to end up going into labor at Walmart, where I worked up until a couple days before going into labor.
So as I sat in the hospital getting checked for how far in labor I was, I felt so scared. I was even more scared because I was getting ready for the biggest event in my life all alone. It was not how I wanted things to go. Once the nurse told me that I was far enough dilated to have to be admitted, but I still had some ways to go before actual labor, I picked up the phone and called my mom and my sister.
I remember begging them to please come be with me and that it was time. I didn't want to go through it by myself.
They arrived and sat with me and kept me company. They really helped me to stay calm and when things were getting harder, they helped give me encouragement. Finally on April 19th, 2003, my son Nathaniel Xavier was born. It was the happiest day of my life.
He was only a couple hours of being born on easter sunday! This was the best easter gift I had ever gotten. I was so blessed. I had felt this love of a strength I had never knew growing up.
That bliss would be short lived. The day upon release I had made the decision to go back to my moms instead of my sisters where the father of my son was living. But, I knew I need someone to show me how to take care of a baby, and to help me care for myself as I had stitches and my body was super sore!
I will admit my mother really was there for me. If I needed anything at all she was the first I would turn to. She knew all the answers and all the best solutions. That is why I was so hurt when she did what she did next.
I had started to work in a strip club as an exotic dancer. I needed all the money that I could get and I began dancing as a second job. My first job was a drive thru cashier.
A couple weeks into it, I met Jason. I was instantly drawn to him. I couldn't put my finger on it at the time, but I knew there was something special about him.
I actually had began dating a jerk that I thought was stealing my money at the time, and Jason came in with a group of his friends. I remember him asking me if I had a man etc. When I had told him about the circumstances, he had mentioned that he would have already introduced me to his mom if I was his girlfriend. I remember being attracted to him instantly.
A couple weeks went by, and I began to notice Jason coming in and he would get a beer and then would go sit down and watch me but from a farther distance. So after watching him do this after awhile, I approached him and we started up a conversation and I ended up giving him my phone number.
The guy that I had been dating actually cheated on me with another dancer that was supposed to be my friend, so I was single and wanting something different.
Talking on the phone became meeting up to hang out. Jason was a gentleman and showed me a different way of things, but also at the same time that bad boy that I am attracted to the most.
I told him about my son and he had a son also and they weren't that much of a age difference, so we had a lot in common with each other.
Shortly after meeting Jason, I was ready to introduce him to my parents and my son. Let me tell you, he was really great with my son. He really treated my son as if he was his own flesh and blood child.
My parents are old fashioned people, and even though I was now an adult, I couldn't have anyone of the opposite sex ever stay the night with me, or even enter into my bedroom. So, I would pack my son up and we would head over to my sisters to stay the night.
Jason would come over and Nate was still waking up throughout the night, and he would actually get up with my son and was willing for me to sleep in while, he feed him. I admired him for stepping up to the plate and was ready at full speed to father my son.
It seemed like everything was going great and things couldn't get any better, but boy that is when things began to really start getting worse. You know that saying, when it rains it pours? Well in my case it was starting to hail and then some.
One day, I had plans to go to Jason's with my son to stay the night. I had everything all packed up in my son's diaper bag. I grabbed everything and began to head for my parents front door.
My mom grabbed me by my arm and said I could leave, but that my son wasn't going anywhere. I instantly sat everything down and we got into it. She tried to pull my son from my arms and I shoved her against the railing of the stairs.
I grabbed my son and actually ran into my bedroom where I had my own landline that I paid for. I instantly picked up the phone and dialed 911.
I embraced my son thinking that once the police arrives that I will be able to take my son and leave and I wasn't going to come back after this incident.
It seemed like it took forever for the police to arrive, because the whole time my mother was outside my locked bedroom door screaming at me.
I felt relief once I heard the police officers walk into the house. The whole time, Jason was outside sitting in his truck patently.
I opened my bedroom door for the police and began to tell them the situation. My mother interrupted and brought them in a piece of paper from the court weeks earlier. I had signed a piece of paper saying that it was okay for my mom to take my son to the doctor and she had permission to also sign the enrollment of his school when he became of age.
The lawyer had told me (it was the family attorney) that it wouldn't mess up anything with my parental rights and custody of my son.
I was lied to however, because once the police was handed that paper, they told me I had to leave the property or go to jail and my son had to stay. I started going off, kicking and screaming and fighting for my son. I felt like they were allowing her to kidnap my child and not do a damn thing about it. Jason had to actually get out of the truck and grab me by my waist and throw me into his truck and drive off, in order to save me from going to jail. I didn't give a shit if I spent a night in jail, all I wanted was my son. I would do anything I would have to, in order to get back.
That first night, I called my parents endless amounts of time even though the police warned me not to, only to not have anyone answer my calls.
I remember laying in Jason's arms and crying myself to sleep. I had the worst dreams that night, than I ever have in my entire life still to date.
I remember Jason trying to do everything and anything that he could to make me feel better and to help calm me down. He kept telling me that by morning things would get better, and I was praying that he was right. Maybe he could be, and perhaps by morning my mom would have calmed down. So, I held onto that hope and eventually after no more tears would physically come out, I ended up drifting off to sleep.
I remember it was a day or two after her funeral when my labor pains actually began. I had stayed with my sister Shelly, and I always babysat my niece while she was working.
We had just moved into a new apartment which was in a better neighborhood. So at the time the house phone and stuff wasn't hooked up. I began to have some cramps and stuff but I shook it off.
Well, the following morning I woke up and had to start shaking the bunk bed to wake my niece. I made her go and get her mom's phone and I called my mother to come pick me up.
Instead of her taking me to the hospital, she actually took me to her house. I kept telling her that I was in labor and needed to go to the hospital. She disagreed and sent me to soak in the tub.
I couldn't sit in the tub longer than 5 minutes before I was out getting dressed and grabbing my suitcase. I went into the kitchen where my mother was cooking for easter sunday which was the next day. I looked at her and I told her that I needed to go. When she said no, it's just false labor pains, and that they were just going to send me home, I grabbed my suitcase by the handle and headed out the door.
I was halfway down the block when my dad pulled up and told me to get in. He would take me to the hospital if I really thought it was time. Because I was positive that it was, and I didn't think I would make it walking, I climbed inside my dad's pickup truck.
When we pulled up at the hospital's drop off lane, my dad shot me a glance and asked me if I wanted him to come in with me for support. I thought that would be weird my dad watching my give birth and me being naked, so I refused and said I could do it by myself. After all, I had made it this far.
So, I am sure you are probably wondering about where the man is that got me pregnant, right? Well, he was in the picture for the most part at this point, but was starting to be a different person once it started getting closer for me to give birth.
I had bought everything for my son myself, and what I didn't purchase I had received from my baby shower. Hell, people thought I was going to end up going into labor at Walmart, where I worked up until a couple days before going into labor.
So as I sat in the hospital getting checked for how far in labor I was, I felt so scared. I was even more scared because I was getting ready for the biggest event in my life all alone. It was not how I wanted things to go. Once the nurse told me that I was far enough dilated to have to be admitted, but I still had some ways to go before actual labor, I picked up the phone and called my mom and my sister.
I remember begging them to please come be with me and that it was time. I didn't want to go through it by myself.
They arrived and sat with me and kept me company. They really helped me to stay calm and when things were getting harder, they helped give me encouragement. Finally on April 19th, 2003, my son Nathaniel Xavier was born. It was the happiest day of my life.
He was only a couple hours of being born on easter sunday! This was the best easter gift I had ever gotten. I was so blessed. I had felt this love of a strength I had never knew growing up.
That bliss would be short lived. The day upon release I had made the decision to go back to my moms instead of my sisters where the father of my son was living. But, I knew I need someone to show me how to take care of a baby, and to help me care for myself as I had stitches and my body was super sore!
I will admit my mother really was there for me. If I needed anything at all she was the first I would turn to. She knew all the answers and all the best solutions. That is why I was so hurt when she did what she did next.
I had started to work in a strip club as an exotic dancer. I needed all the money that I could get and I began dancing as a second job. My first job was a drive thru cashier.
A couple weeks into it, I met Jason. I was instantly drawn to him. I couldn't put my finger on it at the time, but I knew there was something special about him.
I actually had began dating a jerk that I thought was stealing my money at the time, and Jason came in with a group of his friends. I remember him asking me if I had a man etc. When I had told him about the circumstances, he had mentioned that he would have already introduced me to his mom if I was his girlfriend. I remember being attracted to him instantly.
A couple weeks went by, and I began to notice Jason coming in and he would get a beer and then would go sit down and watch me but from a farther distance. So after watching him do this after awhile, I approached him and we started up a conversation and I ended up giving him my phone number.
The guy that I had been dating actually cheated on me with another dancer that was supposed to be my friend, so I was single and wanting something different.
Talking on the phone became meeting up to hang out. Jason was a gentleman and showed me a different way of things, but also at the same time that bad boy that I am attracted to the most.
I told him about my son and he had a son also and they weren't that much of a age difference, so we had a lot in common with each other.
Shortly after meeting Jason, I was ready to introduce him to my parents and my son. Let me tell you, he was really great with my son. He really treated my son as if he was his own flesh and blood child.
My parents are old fashioned people, and even though I was now an adult, I couldn't have anyone of the opposite sex ever stay the night with me, or even enter into my bedroom. So, I would pack my son up and we would head over to my sisters to stay the night.
Jason would come over and Nate was still waking up throughout the night, and he would actually get up with my son and was willing for me to sleep in while, he feed him. I admired him for stepping up to the plate and was ready at full speed to father my son.
It seemed like everything was going great and things couldn't get any better, but boy that is when things began to really start getting worse. You know that saying, when it rains it pours? Well in my case it was starting to hail and then some.
One day, I had plans to go to Jason's with my son to stay the night. I had everything all packed up in my son's diaper bag. I grabbed everything and began to head for my parents front door.
My mom grabbed me by my arm and said I could leave, but that my son wasn't going anywhere. I instantly sat everything down and we got into it. She tried to pull my son from my arms and I shoved her against the railing of the stairs.
I grabbed my son and actually ran into my bedroom where I had my own landline that I paid for. I instantly picked up the phone and dialed 911.
I embraced my son thinking that once the police arrives that I will be able to take my son and leave and I wasn't going to come back after this incident.
It seemed like it took forever for the police to arrive, because the whole time my mother was outside my locked bedroom door screaming at me.
I felt relief once I heard the police officers walk into the house. The whole time, Jason was outside sitting in his truck patently.
I opened my bedroom door for the police and began to tell them the situation. My mother interrupted and brought them in a piece of paper from the court weeks earlier. I had signed a piece of paper saying that it was okay for my mom to take my son to the doctor and she had permission to also sign the enrollment of his school when he became of age.
The lawyer had told me (it was the family attorney) that it wouldn't mess up anything with my parental rights and custody of my son.
I was lied to however, because once the police was handed that paper, they told me I had to leave the property or go to jail and my son had to stay. I started going off, kicking and screaming and fighting for my son. I felt like they were allowing her to kidnap my child and not do a damn thing about it. Jason had to actually get out of the truck and grab me by my waist and throw me into his truck and drive off, in order to save me from going to jail. I didn't give a shit if I spent a night in jail, all I wanted was my son. I would do anything I would have to, in order to get back.
That first night, I called my parents endless amounts of time even though the police warned me not to, only to not have anyone answer my calls.
I remember laying in Jason's arms and crying myself to sleep. I had the worst dreams that night, than I ever have in my entire life still to date.
I remember Jason trying to do everything and anything that he could to make me feel better and to help calm me down. He kept telling me that by morning things would get better, and I was praying that he was right. Maybe he could be, and perhaps by morning my mom would have calmed down. So, I held onto that hope and eventually after no more tears would physically come out, I ended up drifting off to sleep.
May 22, 2016 The begining
I figured that I would do things a little bit different in this blog. I feel like I have a lot to say and it might do me good to start getting shit off my chest so I figured I would give it a shot.
Well, at the moment its now 2:44 in the morning and I'm listening to music and thinking about things. I am happy somewhat, but at the same time I am almost miserable.
Ever since my life has went upside, things have been difficult. I guess, it might help for me to go and explain some things. I am adopted and have been pretty much my whole life.
I had a nice childhood for the most part. I attended private school up until like 7th grade and then I went to public school. That made a big impact on my life.
I don't know, I think going to public school really helped to bring out my personality. I made a lot of friends and had a blast. Some would say, probably too much of a blast.
I wasn't a bad kid, but my parents would beg to differ. I was the one that stood out in the family. I was what they call the "Black Sheep".
I always was different and was always treated differently. Now that I am older, I really believe it was because I was adopted.
As a teenager, my parents would ship me away when they got tired of me. I remember going to so many different group homes. Some of them, I actually requested myself to attend. I hated fighting every day with my parents. It seemed like nothing that I ever did was good enough.
My parents were firm believers of punishment. With that, I mean my father especially was a big fan of belts. He would hit you with this big leather belt that was thick as fuck, and he'd hit you where ever it would land. Man, so many days my back and legs would be bruised from being hit. There would be days were I would be literally purple and blue.
So yes as a teenager, I started to stand up to my father and refused to allow him to hit me, without fighting back. That is what pissed them off and began to want me out the house.
Shit, I wanted out the house myself! I was tired of the constant fighting and so I requested to leave.
The best years of my life was mostly from being in group homes. I actually learned a lot from them. They taught me everything that my parents were supposed to teach me.
I am not complaining about any of that, because it has shaped me into the woman that I am today. I know that I am much stronger now than I would otherwise be.
Now that I am an adult however, I have a lot of resentment for other things. You see, when I was 18 years old I found out that I was pregnant. God, I remember that day like it was yesterday!
I had lived in this house that set on the same street as the projects. Well, I had my niece with me who was like 5 years old maybe at the time, and we walked to the clinic down the street. I remember looking dumbfounded when the nurse told me the test was positive.
I had lived with my sister at that point, and we were close at the time, so I had no problem telling her that I was pregnant. I remember being so scared to tell my parents. I was just sure that they were going to kill me.
I had refused to tell them, I actually made my sister tell them. I talked to my dad after she told him, and he actually sounded really supportive and he actually made a joke about it. My mom on the other hand, the first words out of her mouth to me was, "You're gonna die of aids" You see, at the time I was with someone who was latino, and obviously she wasn't really okay with it.
So of course that really hurt me and caused a lot of tension between us at that time.I quit talking to her for awhile. It really took a lot of talking from my sister to even agree to go and talk to my mother and this was weeks later after her nasty comment.
Eventually, I had forgave my mother and we actually began to get close again. I will admit that it was really nice to be able to talk to her again about anything. Especially because I was pregnant, I went to her for advice. When different things began taking place with my body, she was the first one that I would run to.
I didn't know that months later, she would do the inevitable and hurt me in the worst way that anyone could possibly hurt someone. I could never prepare myself for the events that would begin to take place in my life.
Well, at the moment its now 2:44 in the morning and I'm listening to music and thinking about things. I am happy somewhat, but at the same time I am almost miserable.
Ever since my life has went upside, things have been difficult. I guess, it might help for me to go and explain some things. I am adopted and have been pretty much my whole life.
I had a nice childhood for the most part. I attended private school up until like 7th grade and then I went to public school. That made a big impact on my life.
I don't know, I think going to public school really helped to bring out my personality. I made a lot of friends and had a blast. Some would say, probably too much of a blast.
I wasn't a bad kid, but my parents would beg to differ. I was the one that stood out in the family. I was what they call the "Black Sheep".
I always was different and was always treated differently. Now that I am older, I really believe it was because I was adopted.
As a teenager, my parents would ship me away when they got tired of me. I remember going to so many different group homes. Some of them, I actually requested myself to attend. I hated fighting every day with my parents. It seemed like nothing that I ever did was good enough.
My parents were firm believers of punishment. With that, I mean my father especially was a big fan of belts. He would hit you with this big leather belt that was thick as fuck, and he'd hit you where ever it would land. Man, so many days my back and legs would be bruised from being hit. There would be days were I would be literally purple and blue.
So yes as a teenager, I started to stand up to my father and refused to allow him to hit me, without fighting back. That is what pissed them off and began to want me out the house.
Shit, I wanted out the house myself! I was tired of the constant fighting and so I requested to leave.
The best years of my life was mostly from being in group homes. I actually learned a lot from them. They taught me everything that my parents were supposed to teach me.
I am not complaining about any of that, because it has shaped me into the woman that I am today. I know that I am much stronger now than I would otherwise be.
Now that I am an adult however, I have a lot of resentment for other things. You see, when I was 18 years old I found out that I was pregnant. God, I remember that day like it was yesterday!
I had lived in this house that set on the same street as the projects. Well, I had my niece with me who was like 5 years old maybe at the time, and we walked to the clinic down the street. I remember looking dumbfounded when the nurse told me the test was positive.
I had lived with my sister at that point, and we were close at the time, so I had no problem telling her that I was pregnant. I remember being so scared to tell my parents. I was just sure that they were going to kill me.
I had refused to tell them, I actually made my sister tell them. I talked to my dad after she told him, and he actually sounded really supportive and he actually made a joke about it. My mom on the other hand, the first words out of her mouth to me was, "You're gonna die of aids" You see, at the time I was with someone who was latino, and obviously she wasn't really okay with it.
So of course that really hurt me and caused a lot of tension between us at that time.I quit talking to her for awhile. It really took a lot of talking from my sister to even agree to go and talk to my mother and this was weeks later after her nasty comment.
Eventually, I had forgave my mother and we actually began to get close again. I will admit that it was really nice to be able to talk to her again about anything. Especially because I was pregnant, I went to her for advice. When different things began taking place with my body, she was the first one that I would run to.
I didn't know that months later, she would do the inevitable and hurt me in the worst way that anyone could possibly hurt someone. I could never prepare myself for the events that would begin to take place in my life.
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