Okay Ms. Wright, we are ready for you. My prepping process for my C-section was now complete. After I gave birth to my son, I was scared, confused and worried. I had no clue how to be a mom, my family was in shambles and I was still a child myself who barley had a roof over her head. This young man whispering sweet nothings in my ear made things seem okay, if only for a moment. The violence didn’t show itself until after I had my son. His controlling nature and jealousy when around other men were the first major signs, then tight grips around by neck while kissing me soon followed. Accusations of me cheating and hanging out with other men were frequent. All of this seemed strange because I was a virgin prior to meeting him and had not known any other men. As word began to spread that I had a child from him, the rumors began to swirl. Rumors of him being a womanizer and abuser were chief. Unfortunately, those rumors weren’t rumors any more. One day we were hanging out in the back while the baby was up front with his mom. I’m not sure what I said, but whatever I said set him off. I remember him punching me so hard in my chest that I lost my breath momentarily. He didn’t stop, it was one punch after another. I never backed down from him, but I knew that I couldn’t beat him. His mom heard us fighting and rushed to the back of the house. She snatched the telephone off the wall and began to beat him with it until he stopped. As she pulled us apart, she cursed him out and told him she didn’t want him putting his hands on me anymore. She told me, that I needed to just leave him alone, but I couldn’t. This violent man had become the love of my life, or so I thought. I couldn’t leave. On his good days, he was so sweet and charming. I just caught him on a bad day, is what I would tell myself; or maybe I should not have said what I said to set him off. Besides, he was my son’s father, so I couldn’t just leave him alone. He was my first, the bond was just too deep. I made up so many excuses and totally disregarded the safety of my son in the process. I just wanted us to be one happy family.
Things would cool down and appear to be okay. As soon as I would begin to have hope that we would be together and happy, the violence would appear. One day I was waiting on the cab to pick me up from his house. I must have unknowingly said or did something again to set him off. I was sitting on the arm of the sofa with my son in my lap and he was sitting across the room. He picked up a heavy glass ashtray and began tossing it in the air.. Then he dared me to say another word and he would throw it at me. He didn’t care if I was holding my son, he would have aimed high enough to hit me. As things began to escalate, I heard the horn of the cab. I let out a deep sigh of relief and hugged my son tightly, then hurried out of the door and into the cab. One would think that I would have stayed out and away from him but I didn’t. We continued to date and the violence continued both publicly and privately. My aunt whom I was living with at the time, didn’t like him. In fact, she banned me from seeing him. Torn and full of rage, I became rebellious. Despite the abuse, I wasn’t ready to leave. Being without him was painful, so painful that I tried to end my life. I ended leaving my aunt’s house and moving in with my grandmother. By this time, more people knew of the abuse and I didn’t care. More people knew that I had his child and would waste no time in pointing out his indiscretions, I didn’t care. I stayed and clung to the notion of false love. Besides, any attempts at moving on and seeing other people were met with violence by him. So, there I stood in life, needing to move on, but being too afraid to do so.