To publish or not to publish… that is the question

Writing is such a cathartic act. But, I think to myself, who would really want to read what I write? I guess the answer came to me that if it would help one person, it would be worth it. Erin Merryn, has devoted her life to helping children after being a survivor of sexual abuse.  I, in some way, have decided to do the same thing and I guess it has to start somehow and sometime.  Though not the victim myself, I live each day of my life changed because of what has happened to my daughter.  I write this knowing the Ellie would speak freely about her experience.  I write this knowing that she would have no issues sharing things.  She, like I, wants to spread the word.  It happens.  And, it needs to be talked about.

Let’s start at the beginning.

Ellie was born on January 11, 2004.  She was perfect in every way.  I had to stay in the hospital 6 nights because of small error in the C-section and actually happy to do so.  It gave me more time with the nurses and time to work on her feeding. 

The day we were to come home, DP was late getting us.  I wasn’t surprised.  He said he had been shopping and putting the chair together.  I figured he probably had been sleeping.  Upon arrival at home, I knew I was right – or at least he had been doing something else.  Though there was food, it was all still in bags.  The chair, Ellie’s rocking chair, was still in the same place it had been since Christmas and not put together and not in her room. 

Ellie and I settled in my bed and I was just excited to be home with my baby.  I couldn’t believe it.  We rested and took naps. Ate, etc.  Tried to find a rhythm of some sort.  DP was in and out, I had no idea doing what.  He wasn’t working at the time.  I honestly didn’t care where he was.  I was too enthralled with my Ellie.  The second night that we were home, DP didn’t come home.  All night.  I was recovering from major surgery and Ellie was 8 days old.  And DP… nowhere to be found.  Though I would have liked to have been shocked by this – I really wasn’t … Disappointed is probably a good word.

When he finally came home the next morning around 7, I told him flat out , this wasn’t going to work.  He apologized, put on some work clothes and said he was going to go and find a job.  He didn’t even sleep. Didn’t stay to find out how I was, how the baby was.  I was bewildered by all of this and was thinking… where are you going to find a job at 7?

He got home again around 3, smelling of cigarette smoke.   A despicable habit he had picked up several months prior, took a shower and headed toward the garage.  I went down and asked what he was doing and if I could get a little help and he said he was helping by cleaning the garage.  At this point, I finally clued in that something was going on.  I know… super quick on the up-take.  I’d like to pass it off as hormones or exhaustion or something … but I have to say… I just really was clueless. 

He worked on that darn garage the entire night through and in the morning came in and said, “you have to come and see what I have done! I have totally organized the garage.”

Now, I get giddy about organization.  So, I was pretty excited… I walked, baby in tow to the garage and saw literally NOTHING changed.  It was by far one of the strangest things ever.  He was raving about it and I stood opened mouth dumbfounded. 

A few minutes later he left.  He went to Walgreens and came back.  He bought about $200 worth of odds and ends.  Pins, safety pins, rulers, notebooks, papers, scissors, etc.  It was as if someone gave a 10 year old $200 dollars and said, no toys, but just go crazy.  Mind you, it was nothing we needed.  But, boy was he proud of himself.  Hooks, like the little hooks that a plant might be hung from the ceiling on in 1982.  What was going on? I was so tired and couldn’t put enough energy into caring to start a conversation with him to try to figure it out.

We were 2 people not even really under the same roof.  He rarely, if ever held Ellie and I just went about my business, somehow thinking it would all be better. 

The end came 20 days in to Ellie’s life.  He told me he was going out for milk at 10pm and came home at 6am drunk off his ass.  I stopped him at the door and told him to go.  I was done.  I couldn’t take it.  He didn’t fight the decision, but did fight me.  He got very aggressive and threw me on the bed.  He had me by all fours and threw my cell phone so I couldn’t call 911. Then he ripped the cord from the wall so I couldn’t use the land line either.  The scariest part was when he grabbed Ellie from her bassinet.  I was terrified and tried to grab her back.  He locked me in the bathroom.  I was doing all I could to get out and I was so scared that he was going to take her.  Instead, he filmed her, and took the film. Placed her back in the bassinet.  Ransacked the house.  Took one bag of clothes and left.  Not one word to me. 

I cried so hard when he left, not because he was leaving but because Ellie was safe. 

I called my friend JC to come and help me put things back together and all but the phone was back in place in a short while.  Now my fear came about him coming back.  I called another friend to come and change the locks.

I undid the garage door, got the locks changed and since I wasn’t sleeping much anyway, hunkered down for the night.  Little did I know, this was just the beginning.