The Journey to Finding Myself Part 1

I know that in writing this, some feelings may be hurt, or people may have a feeling of being “attacked”. That is not my intention. I needed to do this for me. For so very long, I have suffered inexplicable emotional pain! I need to express and share these things, for a couple reasons. One being, for my very own self! It has helped me a great deal to pursue therapy, and, once I had, the writing about it became easier and my writing has become a therapy in and of it self. Second, I have hopes that my sharing my experiences, feelings, and all the other parts, will hopefully help someone else who may be in a situation similar to mine. We are all different and we all experience and feel things differently, but if this can help someone say “Hey! I felt something like that” (or didn’t feel – like me!!) than maybe I can get that person to go and find a way to help them deal with their situation too!

For me, my whole life has really been a journey in finding myself. My whole life has been a struggle. Full of fears, issues, resentments, heartbreak, sadness, depression . . . and fighting the ultimate being to maintain life . . . Myself. It ultimately came down to a battle against myself to really see whether or not *I* thought *I* was worth something . . . and I know there are a LOT of people in this world who are doing the exact same thing.

I guess I should talk about when I first figured out there was something different about me, than others. Or, not that I was “different” really, because *I* like being different than others, but . . . realizing that something wasn’t right with me. When I was about 9 years old . . . I can remember wanting to stick a screwdriver through my wrist . . . and die . . .  now, this wasn’t a random thought. And it wasn’t the last like it. I don’t believe it was the first either, but it is one I remember very vividly. But, who at such an age thinks this way??? Well, *I* did. I remember the situation well. I remember where I was. I remember being filled with … hate? I am not even sure. I don’t really think it was a hate but just a total lack of hope that things would get better. It’s not even that my life was horrible – not like so many people I have heard stories from – but what I didn’t know is that I was struggling to deal with emotions and a loss that at my age I just couldn’t process … and I didn’t have the help I needed to do so. People do not realize that children need to be able to FEEL and express feelings and emotions. They need to talk about things and try to understand the best they can. You can’t act like things never happened.

My biological father died in June of 1980 – and this is really where I believe the root of all my behavior, unbalanced emotions, etc really stemmed from – I don’t remember the date, although I think it was mid- to later June. Right before my 6th birthday on July 7th! . . . and now, I really don’t remember him at all. However, the greatest part of my life, I remember HATING him. I hated him for leaving me because I didn’t thoroughly understand the situation. I felt abandoned. I felt that he didn’t love me enough to want to be with us. I really believed that if he LOVED me, he would have gotten the help he needed, to be able to part of my life, even if he and my mother hadn’t stayed together. Nearly my whole life, I spent in resentment, and having an intense hate for him . . . it has only been since March of 2008 that I have begun to deal with this issue. This issue . . . has affected my whole life. I wish I had done something much sooner. I used to sneak down the stairs at night and listen to my mother talking on the phone. This is really how I found out a lot about what happened with my father.

It was a terrible situation. My father had tried to commit suicide before he and my mother ever got together. No one had told her. He had driven into the back of a tractor trailer. I find that terribly awful! I sometimes think about what it was like for him as a child or a teenager? I was young when he died . . . so there are so many things I will never know. All I know is that apparently, I am more like him than my mother would have ever hoped for. Unfortunately, it was not in intelligence, like my sister. My parents got married because my mother was pregnant with me. It’s certainly not something I feel “good” about. Maybe things would have been better for both if she had an abortion, or had she had me, and they just didn’t get married. He could have still provided for me and seen me, but without a marriage that no one seemed to me, to want. I don’t know much about the whole situation honestly. I only know bits and pieces and it’s one of those things that my mother believed was better off not being talked about. But, for me, I had a loss so deep, no one seemed to understand! They didn’t realize the complete and deep affect that my biological father’s death had on me. A 6 year-old child does not understand a father’s death the way an older child does. All children are going to grieve, act out, maybe have some issues, etc. However, I didn’t understand “REALLY” that my father had died. What I DID know is that my father had left me. I can’t even remember anymore what he was like, or what my relationship with him was like. I can no longer recall pictures of him in my head & I only have one memory left of him. My mind was forever warped in a way that THIRTY-ONE years later, I am still trying to piece together to a functioning being. I can remember one picture of my father and me. We were at my grandmother’s house & he had his arm around me (I believe I was around 3 years old) & was holding a bucket of snakes in the other hand. Apparently we had gathered them in the bucket (because I wanted to?). I don’t recall the incident at all anymore and I wonder if this is in part where my deep love of snakes began (YES!! I REALLY do love snakes & have had several). The only image though I can get in my head now, is this picture. I can’t remember anything else. I have no idea what he was like as a father. I have no idea when he left for work or when he came home. I have no idea if he ate dinner with us as a family. These are things I can’t remember and to the rest of the world, is no longer important. Okay. Well. That is not entirely true. I have one other mental image of my father that stays with me to this day. I attended my father’s funeral. I remember him laying in the casket like it was yesterday. When I do, I can feel the same feelings welling up inside me that I did that day, so long ago now. I wanted to kick his casket! I was so angry! I couldn’t understand why he just laid there. I couldn’t understand why he would want to be there and why he couldn’t just come home. But, nobody really explained to me what was happening. Or that what I felt was normal. Or just anything. It was like he was just dead and gone. To this day, I have this overwhelming pain and sorrow in me. So deep .. like it will never come out, or that I will never feel better about it.

My feelings about the situation were NOT important enough for anyone to take a moment and make sure I was ok. A child needs validation of their feelings too. It is a part of normal, emotional development. And apparently .. there’s a very peculiar thing about memories. When I talk about some things the way *I* remember them, other people, including my parents, don’t always necessarily agree with me. They tell me what I remember is wrong. Well I don’t have many memories before high school anymore & the ones I DO have are very vivid, so I don’t think I am too far off. I know that things that happen in life are sometimes all a person can do, or not do, in a given situation. THAT I have come to accept. Especially with some of the choices I feel I have been forced in to, in life. But, you still need to always validate your child. It took me a long while to REALIZE that this is SUCH an important factor in a child’s development. I guess, part of me knew, because I have told my children they can express whatever they NEED to, to me but they need to watch HOW they express themselves. They can tell me they are unhappy, mad, etc at me for whatever, etc, but I would not accept yelling, hitting, stuff like that. Like I said, some feelings of blame may arise from what I write. But, there is no blame in me, no accusations, no anything. I just need to get this out of ME. This is all about ME. NO ONE else. And in doing so, as I mentioned, I hope to help SOMEONE. That’s all.

He was diagnosed as schizophrenic. I don’t know when. I don’t know anything about his situation. I don’t know if he ever tried to get help. I don’t know if he didn’t believe he had a mental illness and didn’t need help. I know absolutely nothing. It’s pretty sad, really. I wonder too … if he tried to get help and maybe no one could help him. Or maybe, he didn’t find the right doctor. Did he even want help?? These are things I will never know about him. I think for a long time, people were trying to discover whether mental illness was genetically linked. I do believe it is. Maybe not everyone that has a mental illness, or mental illness in the family, will have children with a mental illness, but I do believe that the likeliness of someone with a mental illness, having a child with some type of mental illness is high. I’m not saying that you have to run out and have your child diagnosed, but I am saying that you should be aware of the possibilities and be educated to know if your child is exhibiting some type of problem. No, we do not want our children to be labeled, but we do want our children to have the best life possible. To do this, you have to care for every aspect of their being and that includes their mental health. Today’s advanced medical treatments and care can help you, or your child, to have a very good mental health life. The sooner you get help for you or your child, the better the treatment outcome could be. I’m not saying the medical profession can “cure all” – all I’m saying is that they could help you improve situations that you can not improve alone. I will include some national resources for you to get information from, in case you decide you would like to start trying to get help.

My first tidbit would be, if YOU feel that you need some type of help, or something isn’t quite right, TRUST yourself. Seek out a doctor, or someone you can trust to discuss the situation with. GO with your gut!! Let me assure you, if you LOOK for help, there will be a doctor that WILL help you. I got very lucky. I found a doctor that was EXCELLENT for me, on my first attempt. However, I know many people who have not. They have gone to many. But, if you LOOK you will find the doctor that is FOR you. You will know that doctor when you find him or her. I did end up leaving that doctor’s office and I am now on a venture to find another therapist that will meet my needs. It can be a tiresome process.

My mother got remarried – I don’t know when, or how old I was. I know they were together approximately 6 years. So, shortly after my father’s death. I am absolutely certain he was a rebound kind of thing, and I am sure I had heard my mother says so before. Nobody wants to be alone, especially with 2 young children. My sister was 11 months old when our father died. This guy is the person she was with when I was about 8 years old – I was around 7 or 8 now that I think of it because he still had the blue camaro at this time and when we moved to Wisconsin in .. 1983, I believe it was, we had an accident on the way back with it. Though, I can’t recall what happened to the car. Anyway, the incident I mentioned earlier, about being “9 and wanting to stab a screwdriver through my wrist” is what I am referring to. He used to do the oil changes, greasing the car, etc. himself. And I usually was his “go-getter”. “Get me a screwdriver from the basement, Get me a ¾ wrench, Get me the grease gun” … ugh! It never ended! I just hated it … Why should *I* have to do this? And that was one particular time I remember feeling that way … that I wondered what it would be like to stick the screwdriver through my wrist? What WOULD happen? Would I bleed a lot? Would anyone care? I would get in trouble. I had all this weird thoughts and questions and feelings. I felt by then already that I did not matter.

My mom did her best. She worked to take care of us. She worked a lot when I was young. I don’t really remember from when I was small, but I do know that I spent a lot of time with my grandmother – my father’s mother. After my mom got remarried, I don’t think I saw her as much. I missed her a lot & I did spend some nights/weekends with her until I was I dunno, 10 or so? Maybe a bit older. But then we drifted apart … I missed her terribly, but my mother didn’t keep in touch with my father’s family, and vice-versa, I guess. Again, no one’s fault. It’s just how these things go a lot of times, I guess. But, again, I was not important enough for anyone to try to keep that connection with.

My mother divorced that guy in late 1985, early 1986?? I am not even sure but they were together about 6 years. I can remember the relief I felt when they did divorce. Then, something very odd happened. Okay, well, it’s not that it was odd – well it was to me!! but for my mother, it was good. My mother met another man, mid 1986 or so. They got together, like immediately. He was good to her & I guess they made each other happy. Well, the hardness of the situation is that he was leaving his wife, she was recently divorced. She has 2 children and he also has children. This makes for a very hard beginning to a family, especially when you have a child like me, who has all these issues I am trying to deal with. Then, his children were also resentful of us, because we “took their dad.” I was a moody teen. I had so much going on in me … Nobody seemed to notice or care. I guess they did not realize. My mother will tell you I was a “brat, that stomped my feet when I didn’t get my way.” Nobody paid any mind to me unless I made a fuss. Mostly, they were good for each other though. We had minor “family” issues that sometimes caused a big uproar, but somehow, they managed to get through it and like 25 or 26 years later, they are still together and love each other very much. I am glad she found the man that loves her and has taken care of her and her take care of him. Everyone wants that kind of love!! I know I did.

Most of my life, I spent without too many friends. I had a few close friends and that was that. And, as I got older, I had less & less friends “locally”. My friends were pen pals and later when I got the internet, they were online friends. That is all good; however, what I really was doing was isolating myself from “the Real World”, as some may say. I couldn’t make friends really, and I certainly could not maintain a friendship. I just didn’t know how to deal with people . . . Socially I was shy, quiet, withdrawn, etc. I didn’t like going anywhere there were crowds, and that still lingers with me to this day. People irritate me. I have no patience for out-right stupidness and a simple trip to the store for some groceries often leaves me agitated and not wanting to leave home again anytime soon! In general, I don’t care about people at all.

As I became a teenager, I had more problems and issues to deal with. For one, I hated being the oldest. I messed everything up all the time . . . and I was not a very good “role” model, and unfortunately, I am still not a very good role model to this day. I hated school . . . I had a few boyfriends . . . and I ran away from home several times. I was such a troubled child . . . But no one seemed to know this.

When I was about 15, I told my parents I had been molested . . . by an uncle. Their initial response was that they didn’t believe me because I never said anything when I was younger! Well, I didn’t know that it COULDN’T be true just because I was too afraid to tell them when I was little. I was around 7 or so when this happened. This was done to me by someone close to us, and someone that I should have been safe with, and able to trust. Instead, it added to my already confused and lost mind . . . The fact that my own parents didn’t believe me added to my lost self. If they didn’t believe me, who would? I lost faith completely I think, in people at that point. After all, if they didn’t believe their own child, and believe she was worth helping, no one else ever would either right??

I had several boyfriends in high school. As a 9th grader, I was madly in love with a guy I think was a senior. His name was Angelo, and all I knew was that his last name started with a “Z”. The whole school year I wrote him letters just about every day. I put them in his locker, or sometimes, one of my best friend’s did. Sometimes, we stuck them in his back pocket. We never dated or anything. He did know who I was. He came several times  to my art class to say hi. And, he was my first real kiss!

I dated one guy in there around 10th grade or so, for 3 months. This may make you laugh! His MOTHER told him he could not “see” me any longer! She said *I* was too much trouble for him!! :O I couldn’t even BELIEVE it when he told me! I told him you have GOT to be kidding! I was about 15, and he was 16. I couldn’t believe that he actually wanted to stop seeing me. We had a good, but extremely short friendship and relationship! That was the shortest ever!

My first “real” boyfriend was a boy that was a year ahead of me in school. I dated him as a sophomore and he was a junior. He even took me to his junior prom. Although he was pretty “decent” to me, I ended up in a lot of trouble. I ran away from home a few times, and nearing the end of our relationship, I found out that he was also messing around with my “so-called” best friend. (This was a different person then the aforementioned best friend). At one point in our relationship, I was staying in Brewster with friends (actually the girl & her family – that was a girlfriend of one of the guys he hung out with in Brewster), (this was after I found out what was going on). He dedicated a song to me on the radio. Everyone gave their ideas & opinions about why he was in the group home. Well, around that time, he was arrested for something or another – I can’t even remember what, but my friend, Jean – her boyfriend and I went to the jail to see him. While there, I saw another guy who was visiting another prisoner.

A few weeks later, I had seen that guy again. I can’t even remember where I was or what was going on for that matter! But I do know that when I saw him again, I knew it was him, and I knew where I had seen him before! I **think** where I saw him again was, I had ended up at this girl Michelle’s house . . . she was having a party and I don’t even remember who I went there with. (I didn’t even drink). When I saw him at the prison, he intrigued me! He wore motorcycle boots, and a black leather coat. He was tall and thin, with brown hair and blue eyes.

Well, I was in for the ride of my life with this one! I hadn’t even had the SLIGHTEST idea what I was getting into! The first couple of months were ok. But, he got more and more abusive as our relationship went on. He became more and more physically and verbally abusive. Of course, this should have been something I should have expected, and AVOIDED, but I didn’t. . . I had NO idea that he was as heavily in to drinking and drugs as he was! And HE was only 16! He was a year younger than me! He was a very very addicted drug addict and major major alcoholic. . .  I could never guess how deep and severe his problems really were.

His father was a NYC cop. I never met him, as he died several years before I met my boyfriend. This was really the major thing, I believe, that pushed him over. He and his father were close and I just don’t think he could find a way to realistically cope with the loss. As horrible as these things were, they weren’t his only problem either. He was involved in a LOT of horrible things, like stealing cars, stealing tires, stealing ANYTHING, and. . . drug running.

A month or so of being together, I had my real first taste of WHY we should not be together, but unfortunately, I did not HEED that. All I can say about the relationship with him, is that I am lucky I made it out alive, and without getting into any serious incidents. The incident I should have really used to take a serious evaluation of our relationship was this: We were driving down to his mother’s house in Brooklyn. On the way, we got pulled over for speeding in Putnam County. Well, the cop walked up, said he pulled us over for speeding and asked if there was anything in the car. Much to my dismay, as it turned out, he had a “roach” in the ashtray!

At this time, I had never smoked or drank ANYTHING. I had tried smoking a couple cigarettes as a teen, as many kids did. Luckily, I was not someone who became “addicted”. I smelled beers but they were so gross smelling I never drank any! So, the cop had taken our licenses and ran them (at this time, I was 18, and he was 17). He came back and asked my boyfriend to step out of the car. I was freaking out! I thought for sure we were going to be arrested!!
The cop told him that even though he accepted responsibility and claimed the “roach” as his, he had to write us both an appearance ticket for court. As my boyfriend had said to me the cop told him “I know that if I write an appearance ticket for just you, you will show up at court and blame it on her, and get off”. GEESH!! How many times had he gotten in trouble for things??? I should have really ended it there. But still, I continued to be involved with him.
Going to court there in Putnam County was the most god-awful, wretched experience! The judge was a mean, uncaring man! I mean, I guess in retrospect, I could say he was doing his job, but to me still thinking about it, I think he was terribly unfair! He made us go back and forth to the court for 4 or 5 months! It was horrid! Not only that, but he was DEMANDING my parents to come! My parents consulted with their lawyer who told them, I was 18 years old and not living at home and that they did NOT have to come to court for me. I told this to the judge. He even threatened to subpoena my parents! Their lawyer told them to go ahead and let him do it. It made such a nightmare for me though! The judge had talked to me, and I had told him that *I* didn’t know anything about it being in the ashtray and that I didn’t DO drugs! The judge was such a jerk! His reply was this “Yea, and a rabbit don’t have ears!”
I have no idea what it was about me that people that were involved in my life in some way, just didn’t believe me! Well, after the 4-5 months of this, the judge finally let it go. I can’t remember what the judge decided for him, but for me, he said this “if you don’t get into any more trouble in the next 6 months, this will be taken from your record”. Oh my god! MY RECORD??? I didn’t DO anything!! He HAD wanted me to complete a drug REHAB program even! Give me a break! I was more than willing to submit to any tests to PROVE I was not a drug addict. However, I was NOT willing to do a program for a problem *I* did NOT have!!
It was also then that I lost all faith in our “so-called public justice system”!! That was a joke! So here I was 18 years old, not even grown, my life already a mess . . . no one ever believing me, and I lost what little faith I had left in “justice” and the “right” thing. I believed really then that people in general just did not care about each other.
I left high school in my senior year!! Well, I did try to go back in February, and they were actually going to let me graduate with my class if I could keep my grades up, and I was there all of the last few months. I don’t know . . . I *should* have been able to do this. But, like I said, there was SOMETHING wrong. I went about 2 weeks, and quit again. I would have HORRIBLE anxiety attacks and call my mother, begging her to pick me up, because I “didn’t feel well”. I even tried to go back that fall. I went to Roosevelt then, for about 2 months. Again, I did the same thing! I called begging my mother to come and get me. And, that was the end of school for me for awhile. I left home shortly after, and went to live with my then boyfriend. (The one in the previous paragraphs.)

I lived in a house in Connecticut with him. It was HORRIBLE, and we rarely had food or heat! How could I choose to live this kind of life instead of being at home with my family, in my bed, warm and fed?? There was something terribly wrong with me! Still, I don’t think anyone saw. No one decided I needed help. Oh, my mother had threatened me a few times as a “mid-teen” (16-ish) that she would “put me away” if I didn’t straighten up. All I can remember is saying (maybe thinking??) go ahead and try it. I told her that I WOULD run away from there too and that I would never talk to them again. But maybe, it was exactly what I needed. It may have increased my thoughts and feelings about not feeling cared about or loved, but maybe the final outcome would have been a whole lot different.
The day came when his mom had told him to come to Florida. She had sold their house in Brooklyn, and moved down there a few months before. A friend of ours drove us down to his aunt’s house in Brooklyn. She was going to put him on a plane to his mother.

Even after all I had gone through with him, I felt devastated he was leaving. I felt lost, confused, hurt and abandoned, of course. The abandonment thing always came back time and time again. Our friend talked to me on the way back. He told me “Use this opportunity to get away from him, and never ever come back to him”. Luckily, I did do this. He did look for me a few times, through my grandma, but never have I had a conversation or meeting with him again. Actually, I am QUITE terrified of him! He always told me that I would “always belong to him” and that he would “always find me”. When my grandmother would tell me he called looking for me, it really intensified my fears!!

Our friend took me back to my parents . . . and I was once again home and safe, but still, I was not a happy person. I was determined to be an unhappy person I guess.


My Married Life . . . .

Near the end of our relationship, I was pen palling again. I met a guy through pen palling and after my ex-boyfriend left to Florida, I started writing to him more frequently. After a few months of writing, we began writing more and more. We were writing several letters a day to each other, many of them being over 20+ pages! After a few months of writing “novels” to each other, we began talking on the phone. I walked 2 miles each way to a payphone to talk to him. I was 19 years old and I couldn’t have him call me at home! Well, after talking on the phone a few times he told me he loved me. My reply was “I do you too” because I could not bring myself to say “I love you” back. It was not that I didn’t have deep caring feelings for him, and not even that I didn’t love him, but I just couldn’t say it. About 2 months after first talking on the phone, he offered to buy me a bus ticket out to him, in California. (Boy, I bet he regrets that decision to this day!!) I accepted, and in November of that year (1993), I went to California. I was 19 years old.

My parents couldn’t believe that here I was leaving again! I had been back at home, approximately 8 months, and here I was going again! This time, all the way across the country to meet a guy I had never met in person before! My parents were not too thrilled over this idea . . . but away I went! He lived with his grandparents, who were fantastically wonderful to me! So loving and accepting, of some young New York girl they’d never met before. They were more loving and accepting of me then you could even imagine, for someone they didn’t know. His grandparents and I, (especially his grandpa and me) had many long conversations about many things. I will forever miss them.  I am ever so grateful that I had the opportunity to have them as a part of my life, even though it was too short.

In January 1995, my boyfriend quit his job to be at home and help take care of his grandparents. They were pretty ill at the time and we weren’t sure what would happen. I was really afraid of being home alone with them if something happened. I don’t think I would have been much help for them. In March of 1995, we got married! We got married right in his grandparents’ front yard, where we were still living, so they could be there with us. They were both very ill. We were going to go to Reno or something like that, but they could not travel to be with us. We really wanted them with us, so the best thing we could do was have a wedding at home with them. Shortly after our wedding, his grandma went into the hospital (late April/early May, I think it was) and about a week or two after that, his grandpa did too. His grandma died in late May, and we got his grandpa out to come home and go to her funeral. He died at home about 9 days after her. It was terribly hard on my husband. These people raised him his whole life. He would have given anything for them . . .

The craziness still stayed with me . . . I was in a house with people who loved me a lot . . . but most of the time I hid out in our room. I even ate dinner in there! I have no idea what possessed me to behave this way . . . because I went out with them to appointments, grocery shopping, etc . . .  but I still did this! I even had lots of talks with each of them . . . I DON”T know what was wrong with me . . . or still yet, to this day. I prefer to be ALONE . . . hiding out in my room. In REALITY my BEST friend is my computer!!! My people friends, my best people friends, 99.9% live far away from me!!

I drove my husband insane with stuff! Even before we were married . . .  I don’t remember a lot of it but I know I sleep walked a lot. I don’t know why and I haven’t done it much since. I really don’t know why that went on but I would walk out of the house and down the road. Many nights, he came out and found me sitting out beside the field. The one horse in there, I loved her so much. She always came to me and would stay beside me the times I would end up out there. I can’t really remember anymore when the terrible fighting I would provoke between him and I began. I would get SO mad at him for no reason. Well, no logical reason, I know that - now. Apparently, somewhere in my mind there was A “reason” . . . it just made no sense! I used to yell and scream at him . . .  I would tell him how I HATED him and wanted him out of my life. The horrible part, this was not, of course, true! I was on a horrible spiral downward . . . and I couldn’t catch myself. I couldn’t find any secure footing and I just continued this spiral down into the depths of a twisted hell. I had no idea really, just how badly I needed some serious help. I don’t think anyone realized it. It’s sad to me too, though, because here I was living with a man, who was seeing all this “psychotic” behavior . . . and yet, he really didn’t do anything to help me. He had to have realized that I really needed some type of counseling at the very least, but he never encouraged me to get help – or try to send me for help, or anything. Like I said, I have known a long time, “something” was wrong . . . I really had no idea how serious it was though – not for a long, long time. I do know that if I had sought out the help I knew I needed, back when I first started thinking I needed it, things could very well be extremely different today!!

However, I didn’t seek help. Why? I don’t know. Maybe I thought they couldn’t help me. Maybe I was just trying to convince myself it wasn’t REALLY a problem, and I would “get” better . . . Well . . . whatever the reason was or was not, I did not seek any help. Things got worse and worse for me.

What’s even weirder is that I had four children through all this! I never tried to kill my children, thank god! I never “wished” they were dead, or thought they would be better off dead either! I *did* think my life would be BETTER having children . . . the problem is, the children couldn’t “fix” what was wrong with me either! I just continued to get worse. I was NOT a good mom, and that got worse and worse too. I am horrified to admit, it came down to me being in bed all day, and not even making dinner! My husband would come home from working all day and then cook dinner for us too. Most of the time, I didn’t do dishes or anything either. I never was an OVERLY cleaning, cooking kind of person, but earlier in our marriage, my husband worked nights. When I was pregnant with, and for awhile after our first daughter was born, I made dinner for him every night. Sometimes I took it to him at work, so he could have dinner on his lunch break (if I drove him to work) or, I had it ready and waiting when he got home from work around one or so in the morning, so he could eat then. The house was moderately clean then. We did things, like go for drives and enjoy each other.

I can’t really remember when things started getting so bad. I’m sure I didn’t just wake up one day as horrible as I was at the end . . . I know it was a gradual descent into the depths of hell! All though, at the end, I dropped a good few 1,000 feet right off the deep end quickly!

Our first daughter was born on April 6th, 1996 at 8:21am. She was a cute, chubby faced little baby. I had a partially rough pregnancy. Previous to her, I had had three miscarriages. I was in constant fear that I would lose her too!  It was with her I found out that my blood type is B-. I ended up in the hospital overnight at some point in my 7th month for contractions. They put me on medication and bed rest for two weeks. It felt like the longest two weeks of my life, but we managed through and I did pretty well at following the doctor’s orders. Her due date was Saturday, March 30th, 1996. Well, my due date came and went with no signs at all of having this baby! But the very next day, I got a TERRIBLE pain in my right side. Just the THOUGHT of someone touching me put me through the roof! I had NO idea what was wrong with me. I couldn’t eat or drink anything without throwing up, not even water! I couldn’t lie down, sit up, stand, walk – doing anything at all hurt and there was no position that made it feel any better at all. Monday came and my husband went to work. I called him back home. I was so sick. We went to the hospital and my stupid doctor came in and said I was sleeping, so I couldn’t be in that much pain and told the nurses to SEND ME HOME!! I told the nurse when she came in what he said and how he never even TALKED to me! She said that she had to do what he said and send me home. So, home we went. I didn’t get any better. Tuesday came and still I was suffering. My husband again went to work, and again, I had to call him to come home. I was crying and hurting and had NO idea what was wrong! So, back to the hospital we went on Tuesday. This time, I was admitted to the hospital, but they had no idea what was wrong. I had blood work, x-rays, and sonograms! I thought I was definitely going to DIE when the sono technician came in and told me she had to do . . . I was in tears. She told me she was so sorry she had to add to my pain and asked if we knew the baby’s sex yet. I told her no, but we thought she was a girl. Well the tech told me, the least I can do is try to find out the baby’s sex for you for having to put you through this additional pain. Well, she couldn’t get a shot of Kymberlee either!! The tech told me that “generally” the older babies were easier, but the way Kymberlee was positioned, she couldn’t get a view, just like way back when I had had a sono at like six months, or whenever it was! As it turns out, I had a blocked right kidney. I was getting severely sick! They didn’t give me any pain meds or anything until late Thursday! They began giving me Demerol shots every three hours to help with the pain. Between Thursday and Friday, I gained 20lbs in water weight!!! They were really getting concerned. They put the stocking thingys on my legs. The nurse even let me get in the whirlpool birth tub to try and help me. Very late Friday night or very early Saturday morning, my doctor came in (they were planning to induce me) and said he wanted me to sign a consent for a c-section in case they needed to do one in an emergency (this should have been a CLUE there was a terrible problem!) and I told him I didn’t care I wanted her out! All of a sudden (right along with signing this) they decided I needed to have her now. I was on a mag-sulfate drip, along with whatever else. I had NO idea what was wrong. I didn’t know what was happening. My husband barely got there in time to go to surgery with me (he didn’t know I was heading off to surgery to have her!) I found out later that mag(nesium) sulfate is to keep you from having seizures because your blood pressure is too high! I had developed toxemia/pre-eclampsia. Both my daughter and I were at a serious risk! I felt SO much better after she was born! The nurse came in later that day, or the day after and said to me “How are you feeling?” and I told her “Much better” and she said to me “I know you are. I can tell the way you have that baby up on your belly, even after having a c-section!” My nurse was so good to me! Maria I think her name was. The doctor . . . I feel he put me and my child at a great risk for no good reason. I would never recommend him to anyone! (In reality, I should have found a way to sue him!!) Then, when I was being discharged, they wanted to keep my daughter! I told them NO way was I leaving without her!! We went home Tuesday evening. On the way home, we even stopped at Walmart and did a little shopping! HA!!!