I was a very lonely woman. I worked two jobs, saved money and when I was able would go to Illinois to visit my son. I was too scared (felt fragile) to move back to Illinois, so I just visited. I did visit him as often as possible.
One of the jobs I had offered me a promotion as a traveling manager. I had nothing to hold me, so I accepted. I traveled throughout the southern part of the USA. I landed in Mississippi, where my company wanted to open an office. One weekend I was sitting at a park with a lake and talking with others also at the park. I met a man who seemed nice. We became friends and then more.
His name is Jeff. He was, initially, so different from any man I had been involved with. He was polite, treated me like I was important, and I fell in love with him. We got married, and I almost immediately got pregnant. We were thrilled. The pregnancy was difficult for me. I was a high risk pregnancy because I had in the past had miscarriages. I had to quit my job, which made money tight, but Jeff said it was okay and we would make it. There is 11 years between my oldest son and my next child.
On June 23, our son was born. I thought life couldn't get better. When our son was 6 months old, Jeff came home late from work. He was also drunk and high. He started yelling at me because his supper was cold. Jeff took his fist, hit me in the head hard enough to knock me to the floor. He then started kicking me. I fought back, but it did no good. He was stronger, meaner and drunker than me. I don't know how long the beating lasted because I finally passed out.
The baby crying finally woke me up. I managed to get off the floor. I hurt everywhere. I wasn't able to pick up the baby, but did manage to change his diaper and feed him. I then laid on the floor and cried. When I stopped, I went to the bathroom and looked in the mirror. Then proceeded to wash the blood from my face. I had cuts and the beginning of bruises. It hurt to move or breath deeply. I later found out he had cracked two ribs.
I knew I needed to call the police, but we had no phone. I also knew I was in no condition to walk anywhere carrying the baby. I was afraid to leave the baby because I didn't know what Jeff might do to him. I didn't know what to do, so I did nothing.
When Jeff woke up, he was sorry, apologized, blamed it on the drinking, said it would never happen again. But it did, over and over.
It was less than a week when it happened again. Jeff came in from work late. I gave him his supper. It was spaghetti. Suddenly Jeff took his plate of food, threw it at me and started yelling, telling me that after working all day, he expected a decent supper. I was shocked because every Saturday we sat down together, made a menu and a shopping list. I tried to tell him that he had suggested spaghetti as the meal for that evening, but all it did was make him angrier. Then he hit me. I went to the ground and started screaming then crawled under the table to get away from him. He grabbed the broom and started poking it at me under the table. I grabbed it and pulled it out of his hands. He started laughing and told me to keep it. Then Jeff got the baby out of the crib, told me he would be back, and left. I ran outside, begging him not to take the baby, but he just kept laughing and drove away.
I cried and decided I was going to leave as soon as I got the baby back. Jeff came back about an hour later, without the baby. He asked me if I had calmed down, or was I going to act crazy. Then he told me that he didn't want to be around a crazy woman. I told him I was calm and not crazy. Then asked him where the baby was. He told me he had taken the baby somewhere safe and until he was sure I was calm, he would leave the baby where the baby was. Then he laughed at me. His laugh sent chills through me. Jeff told me to prove I was sorry for everything I had done wrong. He made me get on my knees and beg for forgiveness. Then he put a plate of dog food on the floor, told me to eat my supper, then lay down and act like a good dog. I did. It humiliated me, but all I could think about was the baby and when I would see him again. I fell asleep on the floor at Jeff's feet.
The next morning, I asked Jeff about the baby. He told me that he would bring the baby back as soon as he was sure I understood that if I tried to leave or cause any trouble that Jeff would make sure I never saw the baby again. Then Jeff said something that scared me so much, I accepted his terms. Jeff said "if you don't agree, it will be just like your other brat, trying to see him. Do you want to lose another kid?"
Jeff left, didn't come back until after dark, drunk, but he did bring the baby back. About an hour later Jeff told me it was time for bed. I won't give details about it. Jeff showed me he was "King and Master."
Jeff's abuse this time was physical (hitting), emotional (making me think I was crazy, humiliating me), sexual, intimidation (throwing the food), threats (taking away my child), and shifting the blame to me.
I was too scared to do anything. Jeff never apologized, but it was 4 months before he attacked me again. He also kept telling me how much he loved me.
This is not love!
If you feel you are being abused or know someone who is being abused call the National Domestic Violence hotline. 1-800-799-7233
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