Today, May 29, 2013, marks the first birthday of my son’s first child. Today is also the day his new girlfriend is set to be induced labor on his second child. The first girlfriend was 19 years old at the time. The second girlfriend is 15 years old. My son will be 18 years old on Sunday, June 2, 2013. Two kids before the age of 18. How lovely.
Why do people like that get to have babies?
In my mind, if God is allowed to have the credit for all things good, then he should hold the same credit for all things bad.
We thank God for good things after tragedies. Should we thank God for the tragedy and if God didn’t create the tragedy, then who did?
I have a daughter who would have been seven years old on Friday, May 31, 2013 had she been allowed to live. I also have a son who would have been twelve years old on Sunday, June 9, 2013 had he been allowed to live and another son would have been five years old on Sunday, December 15, 2013 had HE been allowed to live. So maybe all these milestones hold the key to why I am stuck in the depths of Hell wondering about it.
I have a nephew born to a 17 year old mother and 15 year old father way on back in 1987. That’s a pretty funny story no matter how you look at it. Before he was ever conceived, his parents cooked up a story that if my sister ever did get pregnant, they would just say our step-dad was the father because he was a child molester. That story went in one ear and out the other. So, when social services were called and everybody was mad, somehow I got blamed for that. Again, in one ear and out the other although, I was a little confused by the story of the father being on the phone with social services with his father listening in on the other phone. I wondered why he would be on the phone with them at all. My parents made me quit my job to babysit that kid. Then, along comes 1989. I turned my step-dad in for the molestation which, I did not mean to.
A horrible fight broke out at my house between my parents, my sister and me which resulted in the Spotsylvania County SWAT sitting in our yard. Let me tell you about that fight. I remember it detail for detail from start to finish but I will spare you those details and try to sum it up as much as possible.
I met a guy at my job the previous week and he asked me out for that Friday, March 31, 1989. I knew going into it that I wouldn’t be allowed to go out with him firstly and secondly, I knew the minute I walked out the door that I would be in trouble upon my return so, I went all in. It has long been my belief that you should go big or go home. So, if you are going to get arrested for protesting, might as well strip, burn your clothes and punch the cop while you’re at it, cause you’re going to jail anyway.
So yeah. He asked if I had a curfew and I told him I had it like that. No curfew, it’s Friday, just got paid. Who you talkin’ to? ME with a curfew, don’t be silly.
We went to a benefit dance for some girl who had been involved in an automobile accident (MVA in the EMT world) and had very extensive brain injuries so they were raising money for her. Somehow, I kept winning whole gallon bottles of Jim Beam and Jack Daniels. My man wanted some. I told him to go win his own damn bottles.
I was beyond shitfaced when I got home.
When I walked in the door, my mother said ‘you’ve been out smoking cigarettes, haven’t you?’ Um. In a psychology class, they would call that a specific level of denial.
My step-dad walked in the house, drunk as fuck himself and told me he wanted to see me out in the garage. He told me he wanted me out of the house. No worries. I went back to my room. He came in and told me he had changed his mind, he wanted me out right then and there. No worries. Touch me and I will kill you, get the fuck out of my room rapist and I will pack my shit and be on my way. He changed his mind again and told me I could be out by the time he got home from work the next day. Jesus fuck, make up your mind, I thought.
So that next day, my sister came in bright and early, physically dragged me out of my bed and told me we don’t get to sleep all day when we have been out all night drinking. Cause her fat ass is my boss, right? But that’s the way she was. Any time I did anything, she took it upon herself to be the Judge, jury and executioner. It is my theory that my parents thought that she wouldn’t get into trouble for anything that happened because she was a minor. So, the time she showed up at my job and beat me in my face while my car was rolling, if they had done that, they would have been arrested. Anyway, I spent the whole day systematically finding reasons to go outside and put my stuff in my car and then when I got in to start it up, it wouldn’t start. Sabotage.
I spent the whole rest of the time taking all my stuff back into the house.
When my step-dad got home, my mother told me to come and put ice in the glasses for lunch. He wanted to know “what the fuck is she still doing here?”
So he came into my room and asked if I had all my shit packed. I told him indeed it was and so he told me to get it and come on, he was driving me away from there. My sister came in and beat the shit out of me for even having it packed. My step-dad conveniently left. If my sister killed me, they never touched me, so they wouldn’t be in trouble. See how that works?
When he got back home, they literally tag teamed me. Each one of them methodically taking turns beating the shit out of me. I just wanted to be in my car. My sister took my keys and when I say ‘took my keys’, I mean I had a grip on them so tight, each and every one of those key chains I had popped off the main ring and she threw that into the yard. To this very day, I will come absolutely unglued if I can’t find my keys.
The police were called. My neighbor told me that she was going to tell the police everything. Everything. And she did.
A social worker was on the phone asking if ‘all that stuff back in 1987 was true’ and I knew no differently so I told her it was true. She was asking about the step-dad being the baby’s father part. That’s what my sister told me so, she would never lie, it must be true.
This started an entire year long court battle which resulted in absolutely nothing. I was told that since my step-dad was the father of my nephew, then they were going to take the child and put him in foster care and arrest my sister for the horrible fight and my mother for allowing every bit of it to happen at all. All I could think about was my nephew and how none of it was his fault. So when the court asked me why, if things were so bad, was my sister still living in that house, I told them I had no idea why. But the reason was because my step-dad was her baby’s father so why would they throw her out and why would she leave? She had the benefit of a free place to live. Welfare paid for her education. Welfare paid all that child’s medical expenses and baby formula and all that crap. She had a free babysitter, why WOULD she leave?
So they threw it out of court.
My family was at first mad that I took him to court. My oldest sister’s exact words were “you don’t take your family to court for things like this.” and baby mama sister told me if I mentioned her name in court, she would find me and kill me and well, I did mention her name but not for the reasons for which she would have killed me and because she wasn’t there, I am still alive. Neener neener. Oh but now, they are all mad because the man isn’t in jail for his crimes. Because that makes so much sense, doesn’t it?
My sister spent her life telling on me for the littlest things. Little things that were big things in my house because she knew that I would get the shit kicked right out of me for things like washing my hair and what not. Digress: my step-dad had a mini heart attack which resulted in his being admitted to the hospital. My sister and I showed up and do you think she asked him how he was feeling or anything? No. She ran right to the head of his bed and said “Jeri washed her hair.” I spent my whole life finding ways of keeping her out of trouble for BIG things like saying she was going to work but really having sex with boys she worked with. So, one of the last times I got into a fight with my parents before that big fight, they called me out on something I did that my sister told them about, I rolled her secrets from beginning to end. To this day- I am considered the one who can’t keep secrets when in fact, I will keep your secrets and even play along but if you take me to the point of no return, I assure you, you will be sorry you ever met me.
So to fast forward a little- years after all that mess, I was on the phone with my sister-in-law boo-hooing about what they would tell my nephew as he got older. I wouldn’t want to be in that position if it came with a million dollar pay out. She responded, well, you know she came clean about that don’t you? There I was still babbling because I really wasn’t listening and then my brain rewound the conversation and I stopped. ‘Came clean about what?’ And that’s when she told me the 15 year old boy was really the father of the baby and our step-dad had nothing to do with that.
Enter brakes screeching on a car right here. Ohhhhhh, that would make sense as to why he was on the phone with social services and oh yeah, he DID tell me that they would just say my step-dad was the father of that baby. Ohhhhh. So, that must be the reason why my sister thinks I am the one who called social services. He must have told her I did it because he was so bent on getting his name out of that baby equation. Ohhhh.
Well now they are friends on Facebook. In fact, he is friends with that entire side of my family. I wonder if that means his whole family now knows the truth? I hope so because of DNA and all this crap he talks about welfare bitches and Obama’s ‘thing’ of a wife- I hope that means his own ‘thing’ of a wife knows about her 26 year old step-son and since they are all friends and everything is so cute and cool, maybe they could put their collective single brain cell together and come off of two years of babysitting money, compounded with interest over the duration of 24 years and add to that wage increases and inflation since we hate welfare so much.
I truly hope so because I am almost at the point of no return where secrets will get told at the expense of human sanity.
And people like that are allowed to have babies but people like me and countless numbers of my friends have gone to great expense to have children either via pregnancy or adoption and have come up zots. People who would move this Earth if it meant having a baby but irresponsible people get to go out and be irresponsible and have all the babies they want. How does that make sense?
There again- if God is responsible for all the good stuff. Then he surely can be responsible for all the bad stuff and I am not too far off my rocker for demanding God tell me what I have done so wrong in this life to first have to deal with an abusive childhood, then a torturous early adult life and then years upon years of heartbreak and sadness due to the losses of so many babies. And maybe he can tell me why one of my dearest friends has to watch as her son’s girlfriend fights daily for her life with cancer and people like my step-dad get sick, go to the doctor and get well and that man doesn’t deserve the air he breathes. I wish I had the answers. It all makes me so mad and of course, I rail at God. That is my right. I was told to give all things to him. Turn it over as they say. So I turn everything over. Even though I don’t have the same relationship with him that I once did, I still give everything to him. Everything. If he made this Earth and all things in it, then he made these tornadoes that toppled schools full of children. He made these cancers. He made these irresponsible people.
And I have the right to want to know why.