Reminiscing

I wish my mom would blog her life details. She has told me so many stories but I don't remember them all and I worry that I won't remember the details accurately either.

This evening, I found myself sitting in my eldest son's car with him and his girlfriend, recapping some of the events in his/our lives. It was very nice, because although he had already known some of them either because he was there or because I had already told him previously, he didn't remember much of the details; as he is older now, I believe he may be more interested.

In light of this, I wanted to document some of the events we talked about. Maybe one day, he'll get to look back at this and be reminded.

Meeting Mark... I met your biological father, Mark, at work. I cleaned tables at Furr's Cafeteria, and he was the dishwasher. Yes, it was lousy jobs, but it was all I could get at the time and it paid the bills (barely). He was a sort of 'knight in shining armor' for me, as my marriage had fallen apart, and I needed a shoulder to cry on; he provided that. He did love me, I never doubted that; and in all those years that we were not together, it was always nice knowing that he was out there somewhere and that he still loved me (no matter what was going on in our lives).

When you were about four years old, and after my divorce was final, I was able to track down his sister, Sylvia.  She and I sat and talked and talked.  It was evident that she did not care for Mark's new wife; and she did feel fondly of me.  She told me where to find Mark and, eventually, I introduced you to him, his parents, Sylvia and her family.  I remember sitting in the living room looking at photos of you and talking about you to Mark's parents and Sylvia.  You ran around the room acting so silly (always have been the entertainer).  I think you used your silliness to hide your nervousness.  At one point Mark's dad tried to get your attention and talk to you, and you spit at him (just trying to be silly, and probably a little nervousness too - you were just a babe).  He was so shocked and I pulled you close to me and explain to you not to spit.  I dismissed it casually and explained your silly nervousness and that you didn't mean anything personal by it - they understood.  Four year old children can be so unpredictable.  They looked over your photos and talked about how much your resembled Mark, and never once questioned whether or not you were truly his or what my intentions were - though I tried to make it clear I wasn't looking for any financial help.  I think, at first, I had secretly hoped that we would get back together and that, maybe, I could put together a family for you that was close to normal. But as it turned out, he was already married (to Laura) and had another son, Matthew (then about 2 years old). Evidently, Mark and Laura were going through a rough patch at the time. Laura would leave to stay with her family for a while, and then return. When she left each time, Mark would call asking for us to visit him at their apartment in Houston. We did - but even then, it was clear that he would never leave Laura because he loved her so and he loved and adored Matthew.  Of course, that was fine with me - I never asked him to leave his family nor did I ever want another child to deal with being fatherless (the way you had to deal with it).

However, Mark was still very interested in keeping us in his life. His plan was to move us all into the same house together. I was to help take care of Laura when she had her seizures. I remember how Mark and Laura would talked often about the likeliness of her dying young and how the doctor had said that if she hit her head just one more time..... (It was weird.) This way, you and Matthew would grow up together, as brothers. Surprisingly, Laura appeared to be fine with that plan. She and I got along (although she talked - and a lot! To the point that it really got under my skin, but for the most part, we got along). Mark wanted to maintain a "close" relationship with me - and I suppose it would have been much like a bigamist household. But of course, I knew it was all too confusing and bizarre to continue with his plan - and you and I left.  I suppose I just stopped pursuing them.  I remember the last day you and I visited with them, I had come inside from sitting on the outside stairwell talking with Mark, and Laura was sitting at her small round dining table just off the kitchen. I sat down at the table and told her goodbye and told her to never, ever, ever let any woman come into her home to "share" her family.  That this was her family and she needed to protect and defend it.  I told her that Mark loved her very much and would never ever leave her and Matthew - I gave her a hug and left.

Blessed with you... It was very early (3:00 or 4:00 in the morning), and I'd been awaken again with mild but annoying back pains. They were few and far between, so I went back to sleep. An hour or so later they were much sharper and more occurring closer together. I realized this was my labor pains. I wasn't getting any sleep by now and decided I might as well go in to the hospital if I wasn't going to get any sleep anyhow. The water never broke. Chuck and I got some of the things together and drove to the hospital where I was immediately sent up to the delivery floor (hospital procedure for all pregnant women who walk through the door).

Chuck made the necessary calls to family, and Erica immediately called Mema. Poor Mema. She had gone on her yearly out of town shopping trip with Aunt Carolyn despite her intuition that you would probably come while she was gone. As soon as they got the news, she and Aunt Carolyn jumped in the car and sped back to town; normally an hour and a half trip which took them far less this time; lucky they didn't get ticketed.

Everyone began arriving at the hospital. I was given an epidural to ease the pain which, I might add, had become unbearable. At one point, I remember, literally, standing atop the toilet seat begging for it to be over. At another point I was crawling off the side of the bed and the nurse, fearing I would fall off the other side, scolded me. The epidural was a welcome anesthetic; and then, I slept.

Chuck and I had been dressed for delivery and I was being wheeled down the hall on the bed, when Mema came barreling in. She popped me on the forehead a few times to make sure I knew she was there, and I remember being quite discontent by it (fyi, never pop a pregnant woman on the head while she's being wheeled into delivery), but I responded so she could relax, and we were off.

Delivery was about as textbook and uneventful as it should be. Your head was a little stuck so they used forceps. And then, you were born. You could not have been more beautiful. Your hair was golden and so was your skin. You cried after being spanked a little by the doctor, and it was the most beautiful sound I'd ever heard (not a high pitched annoying cry but deep and boyish and beautiful). This is the moment, I truly felt my life change. Your nose was perfectly shaped, you had all your fingers and toes, your head was beautiful, everything was perfect. You had a beautiful  brown birthmark next to your belly button, which I didn't even know you had until your umbilical cord fell off.  Later, I would tell you that this was where an angel had kissed you before being sent to me. Funny, when I'd first seen the mark I had thought your tummy had been stained from the blue ink on the cut cord, and assumed it would eventually wash off. (First time mother's assumption.)

You were perfect, and perfect for me. God knew what He was doing, even if I didn't understand it all.

Almost lost you... Within the first week or two of your birth, I took you to Mema's home to visit. It was probably 9:00 p.m., and Erica was there too. We were all in awe of you; the first grandbaby, the first nephew, the first baby, and the first little boy! for us to experience.

You had eaten, been bathed, and dressed for presentation. As soon as we entered, Mema took you from my arms and sat holding you in front of her so she could admire you as you slept. We had not been there long at all, as a matter of fact I don't think I'd even sat down yet as Erica and I were standing in the middle of the room talking and glancing at you, when Mema said you were looking sort of blue. I walked over to see for myself. It was only a matter of seconds when I realized you were in fact changing colors, and blue went to purple quickly! I grabbed you and angled you downward and smacked your back hoping to dislodge whatever might be in your throat, I asked if everyone still had there buttons or whatever you might have swallowed. Buttons all accounted for, and considering the circumstances we all knew there was nothing in your throat (there had been no opportunity for you to swallow anything) and time was of the essence. It occurred to me that maybe some of the milk from earlier had made its way up in your throat and you were not swallowing it back down. I continued to pop your back with my hand,  but, still, nothing came up. The purple deepened as I tried to stick my finger down your throat. Nothing. I passed you to Erica and asked her to try. She had been in the child care business for some time and had taken various classes for this kind of situation. She stuck her finger down your throat over and over - still, nothing. Only seconds had passed, and fearing any more wasted time, I spouted, "let's go!" Still in Erica's arms, I instructed her to continue her efforts to dislodge whatever. I didn't believe anything was there, but I also felt that maybe the effort would stimulate you enough that you would react to it, and begin breathing.

I had a black T-top Camaro at the time and it was the last vehicle in the drive. We jumped in. The hospital was only a mile away and we raced down the street. Hazard lights blinking, air conditioner running, and the inside light was on as well for Erica as she struggled again and again to dislodge anything in your throat. All this time, you never made a peep.  Not one whimper, or cry.  The car was old, and running the a/c, inside lights, and outside lights, the battery would drain quickly and the car stalled. We were all in a panic and praying desperately to God, and begging you to react. I turned everything off, and the car re-started. We sped down the next road, as I turned everything back on. Again, the car stalled as we slowed for clearance at the intersection. A small truck with three boys in it pulled up behind us. Mom made the suggestion we ask them for a ride. I said, "GO! GO! GO!" She and Erica, baby in hand, ran for the truck as my car started again but I didn't want to take any more chances with my car. I couldn't take the chance of it dying again and having no alternative help. The Camaro would run, I just had to leave everything off but the headlights. Mema jumped into the bed of the truck with one of the boys and Erica was put into the cab with you and the two other boys. They sped around me as I followed close behind.

By the time we pulled up to the hospital, you were crying. Such a sweet sound because I knew you were breathing again. Still unsure of what had caused the problem, we ran inside and made quick explanation of the occurrence. The nurses were not too concerned as you were crying now - so obviously breathing, but you were taken back immediately. After a thorough examination and no explanation, you were released.

In hindsight, if I had been home and you had been asleep in  your bed, I probably would have found my baby "gone" in the morning. Maybe the doctors would have called this a SIDS case. So little is known about SIDS. But now,

we are all thanking God everyday that you are here in our lives.

Erica felt bad for a long time after, because your voice, even for a teeny baby, had a hoarseness about it which was caused from shoving her finger/fingernail down your throat over and over. But, I feel, she probably saved your life that night - and I couldn't be more grateful. As for me, I didn't get much sleep after that. We bought a baby monitor so I could sit and listen to your breathing from anywhere in the house. Checking on you every few seconds, keeping you close so I could watch you breath, and praying silently all the time - lots and lots of praying.

Through the years, I've often wondered about those boys in that truck. Did they realize you had started crying again? That you were breathing again? I don't recall thanking them. Do they ever wonder about that little baby that they helped save? How did that experience effect their night? or their lives? Wonder if we would ever be able to find them if we tried.

Divorcing Chuck... I divorced Chuck when you were around two years old. It was the best thing. It was an abusive relationship both verbally and physically and it began within a week of our return from our "honeymoon". It's hard for me to say the word "abusive" but I think that's because of my "it'll never happen to me" attitude. Plus, it makes me feel like a weakling and victim, and I hate that. I like to at least appear on the tougher side. I remember him shoving me into the Christmas tree and then laying there between the branches as they poked painfully into my skin, and thinking, "how in the world have I ended up here?" I remember being curled in a ball on the floor as he stood over me calling me names and shoving me with his foot. He liked to call me "cunt" and it was the one word that I couldn't tolerate. I would try to slap his face for calling me "cunt" and it was as if my attempt gave him permission to attack me "in return".  

One day, I was watching a show about a woman who was abused by her husband and she too would curl up in a ball on the floor.  I was disgusted by her.  Later, I was crouched behind a chair as if to hide from Chuck, and as I sat there, before he reached for me, I thought, "Oh my gosh, I'm just like that disgusting lady on the tv show!" And I was disgusted by me.  I suppose it was about this time that I decided I was going to at least give him a challenge to deal with.  I knew I would lose every fight, but maybe I could at least tire him, maybe I could at least exhaust him somehow, and maybe he would think, "dang woman, why won't she just stay down?!?" That would be some kind of victory, wouldn't it?  And so I did.  He would shove me to the ground and I would jump back up and lunge at him. He would toss me down again, but I just kept getting up.  No matter how tired I was, no matter how breathless I became, no matter if I hurt or not, I would not stay down.

Until, finally (and far too late), divorce became the response. And it was the right response. I had always told him that once Aaron was old enough to understand what was going on, then I would leave. You were two when you walked into the living room and got upset at seeing Chuck and me rolling on the floor in the middle of a "brawl". I remember laying there, Chuck on top of me holding my arms as I tried to get away; and we just stopped when you walked it.  I looked up at your upset face - you knew (you had always known). What an idiot I was to stay so long, but that's when I told myself it was time to go. I should have left for myself long before that day. I remember Chuck and I couldn't even have a civil conversation with a serious tone to it, and you would get upset and try to make us stop talking. We had to always be laughing or speaking with an overly happy tone; otherwise, you would stand between us and fuss as if to say, "stop it, stop it". (God, that's so sad. And I'm so sorry for that Aaron - even though you don't remember it, I think it stayed with you even though you didn't realize it... that maybe it effected you in some way.)

It wasn't long after, Chuck and I were in the car and he asked, "do you want to get a divorce?" It was almost as if he was suggesting it.  I responded, "Sure." (Trying to seize the moment.)  He dismissed it saying that he couldn't afford his own place and didn't want to move back with his parents again.  My mother owned four duplexes at this time, and we were currently living in one rent free.  I suggested that we talk to her.  Mom agreed on the condition that I would pay half of the rent amount and Chuck would pay half of the rent amount.  I agreed.  We moved him to one end of the four duplexes, and I lived on the other.  It was done - and I filed for the divorce immediately.

It was a warm, sunny, beautiful day not too long after my birthday, and I walked out of the courthouse.  I stood there on the steps letting the sun warm my face.  It was such a beautiful day - and I was free.  This would be my birthday gift to me.

Sometime within the first couple of years after the divorce, Chuck and I were talking on the phone and he apologized for the abuse and added, "he wasn't raised that way." I knew he was truly sorry. I never doubted he loved me - and he loved you more than words could say. It ate at him that you were not his biological son because he wanted you to be SO badly. Never doubt his love for you is actually that strong Aaron - it's something that will stay with him forever, no matter how little he sees you - he will always love you like his flesh and blood. I have no doubt that he would do anything for you. 


Alabama... I was going to attend the Art Institute and the school would not let you live with me in the apartment provided by them. I didn't want to take you either only to leave you with a babysitter that I didn't know or trust. So, the plan was that you would stay with Mema and I would see you every weekend I could - which turned out to be most weekends.

Chuck talked me into allowing you to stay with him for a while, since I wouldn't have you with me. You would transfer to their Alabama elementary school for the time that you were with him. It was only supposed to be for a month or two. It was one of the hardest moments I'd ever experienced when I put you into that car with Chuck (whom you hadn't seen in SO long) and his wife, Machelle (another stranger to you). I tried to be strong so that you would feel secure, and then you left - and I sat in my car and cried and cried and cried.  It was horrible.

Once the visitation was to end, Chuck wanted me to allow you to stay longer; I didn't want that. I wanted you home with Mema. Simply because the longer he kept you, the easier it would be for legal battles and other troubles to come up. I also wanted to see you. I missed you. And if you were with Mema, I could see you every weekend. But Chuck became extremely upset that I would not agree to his plan and threatened to keep you. He said that I "would never be able to find you in Alabama because they lived so deep in the country." It was a strong threat, but honestly, not one I really believed he would fully carry out. (Again, he wasn't raised like that, and his parents would never allow him to live like that.) Still, I felt I had to take the threat seriously. Time had passed and people change. I didn't really know how much Chuck had changed. And then there was the "what-if" scenario: what if he really did carry it out? Then, I would notify authorities and after telling them everything, they would ask me, "so he threatened to keep your son, but you didn't believe him?!? Uhmm, whyyyy is that?" - and any response would be a lame.

So I continued to talk to Chuck as if I didn't buy into his threats. Pretending we would stick to Plan A. All the while, my mother, Erica, and I were planning our secret (early) trip to Alabama. We would wait for a school day, as it should be easier to find your school than the house. From the letters Mema and I had received, we knew the general area you were in.

It was a long trip. A quiet one. I felt terrible putting my family in this situation. Maybe I was wrong for allowing you to go for this visit after all. I felt my family must be thinking, "I told her so." I just couldn't wait to get you back again - to hold my baby.

Once we found the school, I went in with my divorce papers which showed I had possessery conservatorship (meaning I kept main possession of you).  I also knew that it wasn't worth the paper it was printed on because we were in Alabama, and the papers were filed in Texas. Custodial papers are generally not respected from state to state, at least not without a long, expensive, legal battle. I was just hoping the school wouldn't think about that and I would get possession of you fairly easily. But, the school personnel did think of that. They called Machelle to ask her what they should do - and she (unhappily) conceded. She was angry, probably because we surprised her and Chuck, but she knew it was the best option (rather than a huge legal and/or personal fight). I spoke with her to ask about taking you to say your goodbye's to Chuck. She didn't know where to find Chuck as he was working at various sites. So, we left.

I cried again for you. I knew, even at your young age of four, you knew something wasn't right. On the car ride home, you said you would miss your dad. I said, "I know" and that you would talk to him again. You slept most of the way home. Sweet baby.

Termination of Parental Rights... After Roy and his kids, you and I, had all moved in together, we began this ridiculous journey to (what I thought) put together a half-way normal lifestyle. Oh well, the intention was good anyway. You and Chuck had not seen each other for over a year. He had not paid any child support in a long time, but he still wanted to see you whenever he could (which would have probably been at most, once a year). I didn't like that idea. I really felt that with so little actual contact, it would be very confusing for you and difficult for you to deal with; but I told Chuck that if he wanted to remain in your life, then he would need to get caught-up on and stay caught-up on his child support payments. I felt that if he was going to pop in and out of your life with an occasional yearly visit, then he needed to at least help support you financially.

Of course, I would have worked with him on getting caught-up, as he was very behind on child support at this time, but before we could really discuss details, he "lost it". He was so angry and assumed I would put him in jail for non-payments. He said he would "terminate his rights before going to jail for not paying child support for a son that was not even biologically his." Yes, that's what he said, but remember he was angry, and you really weren't his biological child. It didn't make sense for him to go to jail in that kind of situation. As it was though, I realized that this was an opportunity to have his rights terminated, giving me complete sole custody. So, I didn't argue with him. I didn't explain that I had no intention of putting him in jail (I mean really, how would I get the money then). I just let him believe that I would.

I hired a very good attorney to draw-up the termination papers, sent them to Chuck which he then sat on for a long time. After a while, he said he lost them. I sent them again. I remember blasting his father, Lee, on the phone (whom I normally got along very well - he's actually a really great guy), but when Lee suggested that we draw-up papers stating Chuck would keep custody but be relieved from responsibility of paying any child support, I was completely offended! Granted, it was a nice try, but a shot in the dark. And very bad aim. I'm not so stupid I would ever agree to anything like that. If Chuck wanted rights, then he would have to accept some of the responsibilities too. Eventually, Chuck signed the termination papers and sent them back, and they were filed, making it official.

He could have continued to contact you, I would have let ya'll keep communication, just on MY terms (you know how I am), but I guess he assumed I wouldn't allow ya'll to talk. Maybe he figured it was all for the best for you, less confusing this way. Maybe he sunk deeper into a depression, started taking drugs, and ended up in prison for a while. Whatever the case Aaron, know that he loved you more than anything. And he regretted signing those papers the minute he signed them. He wanted you, and he wanted to be in your life. His whole family feels this way (that's why they reached out to you again.) And in actuality, Donna (Chuck's mom), did keep in touch some. She would contact me on several occasions to ask about you and request pictures (which I sent to her). They all love you so much.

Everyone loves you Aaron. There is just something about you that draws people in; that makes people embrace you. I love that. People look up to you. Respect you. You are an example to the younger children, and parents appreciate your example. I am so proud of you.

Most of the drama, I know, was a result of the decisions I made. Please know, I had your best interest in mind. I don't believe that walking around feeling guilty or regretting decisions is healthy or right. I believe I based my decisions, then and now, on legitimate concerns (of which many of the other people in my life either didn't understand, didn't consider nor realize). And today, looking back, there are only a handful of my actions/decisions that I believe I would do differently if I could. But I can't. So we live, we learn, and we love.

I love you my precious Aaron, since before you were born. And all our experiences (and drama), I think, contributed to a growing love and attachment I feel for you.