Life Returns to Our Normal

I was so worried when Ellie came home that she would not bounce back and be the Ellie I knew before. She was thrilled to be home.  She wanted to touch everything, play with all her toys and was so excited to be able to sleep in her own bed.

Bell was equally happy. Finally coming downstairs, our dog was now back to normal.

Ellie had missed a full week of school.  Her classmates had sent her some notes in the hospital and her teacher sent a sweet note with her homework that had each student signing something for Ellie.  We went through it the weekend after she got home.  She had a lot of homework to do to get caught up.

Ellie was clingy, but seemed okay.  She talked often about what her stay was like in the hospital, but never brought up the visits - or I should say possibility of visits - with DP.  I didn't want to bring it up either.

That first couple of days she was home was a birthday party at our neighbors.  We had, of course, planned to go before she ended up in the hospital.  I didn't know if she would want to go with the circumstances that had happened.  When Sunday came and I threw the idea out, she asked if I would stay, and I was planning on it, and she said that she wanted to go.  I was thrilled.

I was antsy to get life back to normal, but didn't want to push things.  She was again, a bit clingy, but did really well with all the kids.  I watched with tears in my eyes so happy that my girl was back.  Whenever she smiled, I got teary... she was going to be okay.

When Monday rolled around, I wondered how she would do at school.  We rehearsed what she would say if kids asked where she has been all week. She didn't want to tell them why she was in the hospital just yet.  The anxiety that I felt was unwarranted.  She did great.

The next few weeks Ellie snapped back into being her old self.  She found her joy again and I was ecstatic.  The things she learned in the hospital followed us and she continued to amaze me every day.

She continued to go to therapy weekly.


The second week of April brought the news that DP had hired an attorney, JPB.  He was a new attorney, just out of school.

He was not the only new attorney in our lives.  April also brought SH to our lives. She was Ellie's new lawyer.  We got to meet her face to face for the first time at our house.  She came over to meet Ellie on Ellie's turf.  It was pretty amazing.  It was as if she had been a part of our lives forever.  Ellie had no fear in meeting her and let her story unfold right in front of SH.  I was touched by how great they got along.  I let the two of them be alone.  Sure enough, Ellie touched her as well.


The amazing part of this whole process is that Ellie had often been forgotten in the courtroom.  I feel like the Judge often ruled for what he thought might be best for DP.  Occasionally lately, maybe what might be best for me.  And, he often guessed what would be best for Ellie,. Even saying things like, "I am sure if Ellie were here she would say,... " Never was he right.  I felt like I was the one who knew her the most, and knew what she would say if she were there.  JR was always very far off.

The odd thing is that no one asked her.  When asked, she would gladly tell you.  Perhaps even to the point of it making it somewhat awkward.  I didn't mind.  I thought she was better of talking than me telling her to keep quiet.  She wanted nothing to do with DP.  She wished he would go to jail.  She wanted him to know how badly he hurt her and she never wanted to see him again.  Shouldn't we constantly be doing what was best for Ellie? 


That was SH's role.  


As for DP's new lawyer, he was a tool.  He spoke about Ellie, referring to her as "the girl.".  I was ashamed FOR him. 


We would end up going back to court in May.  Just a month and a half after Ellie had been released from the hospital.  


My side would be ready. We had the lady from DHS, the detective who was on our case, Ellie's therapist, Ellie's attorney, and myself ready to testify.   

"It Can't Get Any Worse"... What?

We had a court date for March 22.  Ellie knew that it was a big one.  One that would probably end it all.  That is how I saw it, how my lawyer saw it, how her therapist saw it.  It was how we all went into it.

Now, some might say I told Ellie too much about what was happening in the courts.  I told her when court dates were.  I answered questions to the best of my ability without talking badly about DP, except when it came to what he done to her (that was in the court agreement and I didn't ever want to jeopardize that should she be put on the stand and have to say something about how I spoke about him).  I was honest with her.  As honest as I could be given the circumstances.  Many would think too open.  But the reality is SHE was living this life.  It was hers to live.  It was me and her.  And, how could I keep things secret?

I did my very best to not break down in front of her.  I hid my emotions to the best of my ability.

The hurtful part came when I thought we would be okay in a court room and we weren't.  I felt as if I had promised something to her and I let her down.   And that happened often.  Reality is, I never promised.  But, it still felt like I was letting her down.

March 22 was a big day.  We were going to have testimony, we were going to make some big decisions and my hope, our hope was that DP would have every right as a parent taken away.  There was no way it would go any other way.

After all, we had the detective coming, we had the affidavit from Ellie's therapist, DJ, we had my testimony, we could put DP on the stand.  We had the information from CARES.  Everything was in our corner.  I had the lawyer.  I had the team.  I had dotted my i's and crossed my t's with such care along the way.  There was nothing that I had missed.

I put on my "lawyer suit" and Ellie, who was home from Spring Break kissed me good-bye with a giant shout of "go get 'em, mom, I know you will win!"

With tears in my eyes, I headed toward the courthouse.  Oh, how I hated that drive.

DR met me at about 9:30, she saw I looked nervous and reassured me we were fine.

Then, in he walked, still without counsel.  His cocky demeanor.  So sure of himself and not feeling bad at all for what he had done and how he had changed our world.  DP stood there, looking ragged and thin.  I could only look so long before having to divert my eyes.  The sight of him sent shivers up and down my back.  He was disgusting in my eyes.

****

We rose as the Judge walked in.  And I sat with a deep sigh of hope.  I had been praying that the Judge had read the affidavit, and had read the whole folder from CARES and had remembered OUR case.  OUR case.  Not a cookie-cutter case.  But OURS.  

"I've read the information on the case," the Judge started. 

YES, I thought. 

"And it occurs to me, that this father has not seen his daughter in nearly a year." 

Wait... why does that matter? Where are we going with this? My heart was probably visible with how quickly it was pounding.  

"I think it is time he starts seeing her." 

As I began to stand, my lawyer put her arm in my lap as if to stop me.  She was right to do this.  What was I thinking? I was getting ready to yell out "OBJECTION" in my loudest and strongest voice.  

Instead, my lawyer, DR, did this.  After all, that was what she was there for.  

She calmly asked, aren't we going to hear any of the testimony we were prepared to give? The same testimony we were prepared to give last time? Weren't we going to discuss what DJ had said about Ellie seeing DP? There was a half-day set aside for our case... weren't we going to use any of that time to actually have a hearing? 

No, oddly enough, the answer was no. 

Tears started gushing down my face as I saw Ellie's face in my eyes.  The horror of me having to go home and tell her.  And yet, I tried hard to stay in the moment.  What on Earth was happening here? 

I couldn't believe any of it.  A nightmare right in front of me. Around me.  Wait.  It was my nightmare. 

As it continued to play out, I realized the Judge was asking me questions and I really did have to be present. He was saying that the visits would be supervised.  Okay, I nodded, face full of tears.  

My lawyer stood again.  

"We ask because of the circumstances of what the father did that the visits be supervised by someone in the legal system," she said.  Of course, I thought.  That is a no-brainer. 

"Come on Council," the Judge replied.  "He hasn't worked in years.  He doesn't have money to pay for a supervisor." 

As the words hung in the air, I started to panic.  What was going to happen? What were they going to do with Ellie and how could it be stopped? 

"With all due respect, your honor," my lawyer tried again... and she was cut off.  

The panic crept up and the ability to breath was actually being cut off.  I looked at my lawyer as if to say, "save me.  Save Ellie." She rested her hand on my arm and said, "hold on." 

The Judge asked if there was anyone we knew of who would supervise visitation and before the word completely came out of his mouth, a hand popped up from the courtroom.  It belonged to L. If I know her last name, I am forgetting it now.  She is JH's mom.  JH was DP's girlfriend long ago.  

This is a lady who once stopped Ellie in a grocery store and told her to come to her.  She was maybe 20 feet from me and as I approached with Ellie she said to me, "I only asked for Ellie to come." I took Ellie's hand and walked away.  I didn't know her from Eve.  I asked Ellie who she was and Ellie told me her name, but how dare you say that to me in front of my child.  

Oh Hell No, I was thinking.  She will not be the supervisor.  And, PS... we are not having supervised visitations.  So, start your magic DR and get us out of this... 

But, she couldn't.  We ended the day and the discussion with the Judge set in his mind that supervised visits were going to happen.  And, not just that, they were going to happen with L being in charge.  My issue with that came on several reasons.  First of all as far as "sides" were concerned, she was clearly on "his." She could say she was supervising and then leave them alone.  She had no training in supervision.  She, in fact, was not a trained person in the legal issues whatsoever.  

The end result was that visits would be every Saturday from 9-12 starting this Saturday (just 4 days away).   L would be supervising. They would come to get Ellie and they would be required to drive directly back to L's house and stay there until it was time to come back.  L was not to leave them out of her sight.

I could not keep my mouth shut on this point.  It was like breathing for me.  I HAD to say something .  I actually stood up and my mouth started moving and before I knew it, I was out of control.  Who was to say that she was going to say anything should something happen?

The brilliant Judge actually said, "your daughter told you once, why wouldn't she tell you again?".

I relied, "at that time it would again, be after the fact and again, be too late."

I stopped myself and thought, am I in a horrible Law and Order series? This is insane.

I was defeated.  I sat down in the courtroom, heavy.  I could not get Ellie's face out of my head.  I was starting to panic.  What would I tell her.  Walking into this day there was no way, literally none.  0% that I would have ended in this way.  It was so far from my head.  I would never have thought that Ellie would end up seeing DP.  NEVER.

The gavel was struck, and it was over.

As I got up the energy to walk out of the door of the court room, L was there waiting for me.  My eyes were puffy, tears were freely flowing down my face and I had no desire to see her.  DP was not in the hallway or anywhere to be seen.  She asked to have a conversation with me.  The people associated with my case came closer to me.  DR jumped in to see what it was about, "everything that needed to be said, has been said."

L said, "I just would like her to change her attitude." she told DR.

And it was on.  "Change MY attitude? What are you talking about? You are the one who approached MY daughter in a grocery store. She doesn't even like you, L. She is scared of you. She will hate that she has to see you and it will worry her more that you are involved. I will pretend that things are fine in front of Ellie for HER, but how dare you ask me to change MY attitude.  I DO NOT approve of this."

L said "Ellie loves me and she loves her dad. She will be thrilled to see us."

At that DR jumped in.

"Let's remember that you, (looking at L) haven't see Ellie for quite some time.  Let's also remember that this whole entire thing is for Ellie.  This change will probably be tougher than anyone can dream of.  I think everyone involved needs to do whatever they can to make it easy for her." With that L turned and walked out and I sat on the bench and cried.

Pictures Worth More Than 1,000 Words

They say a picture is worth a thousand words.  This week I have decided to share some pictures Ellie has drawn. Probably harder to take in than most of the other blogs, I think.  Ellie writes as well, in her journal.  But, here, she shares some intense feelings through her pictures.  These are some of the dozens she has drawn on her own or as school projects.  As I have mentioned before.  Nothing to hide

This one, a little hard to read, was one of the first show drew and wrote.  "My dad is suppose to go to jail.  I will always remember that.".

A New Law Firm and Life Continues

If you were to look up big scary law firms in Portland, Oregon, you would find my new one.  One of the partners is a lady is fairly well known in the community. She also had some ties to Linfield (where my father taught) and so we called to get an appointment, a very spendy  appointment with her. 

I’ll be honest.  The woman terrified me.  She was as honest and upfront and in your face as a person could be.  She interviewed me and every sentence contained a 4-letter word.  She was crass.  She was blunt.  She was harsh.  When I started to cry (most likely out of fear at that point), she stopped and asked:

Why are you crying?

I was so taken aback by that question that I just cried more.  I was crying because I was terrified. 

She didn’t hand me Kleenex.  She didn’t comfort me.  She sat in a chair; forearms resting on her legs and staring at me. Dead straight in my teared up eyes. 

I finally found some Kleenex in the room, got it and tried to pull myself together.  After I did, I was ready to go at it again and felt a little tougher.  I was crying because I knew something was happening to Ellie.  How did I know? Mother’s intuition.  Yes, I realized that didn’t get me anywhere.  Yes, she was seeing a therapist.  No, she had not said exactly what was happening yet.  But, I felt they were getting closer. 

This won't work, she said.  

"D____" she yelled out someone's name.  

At this point, she called in another lawyer named DR.  She was instructed to take notes and listen.  I wasn’t sure, but she even looked a little fearful.  At this point, it became a list of things I was supposed to do.  I needed  to get an appointment with a different therapist.  She gave me a name.  I needed to get my files from my previous lawyer to them.  I needed to have my dad schedule weekly visits with Ellie.  There needed to be a stable man in her life and it was going to be Papa.  I was going to daily affirm that Ellie was strong, she was an Emery and Emery woman are strong. I felt like I was already doing this, but she thought my tears were a give away to me doing it with tears. 

I am fully aware of wearing my emotions on my sleeve.  But, believe I had done a pretty good job of keeping things inside when Ellie was in sight.  Even through doing this, Ellie could read me like a book.  I had to get tougher, or better yet, seek help myself. 

Isn’t it funny that there was “never time for that.” Always an appointment to go to or something to do.  And, yet, that really is the most important thing.

The BIG WIG explained that her fee was high and I agreed.  It was more than double what I had been paying so far.  However, DR, who had stepped in to take notes was competent and up for the job and fees were not AS high.  She would be taking on my case. 

I left feeling good, I think.  I was truly drained, to be honest.  The meeting was set for an hour and went two (I was hoping not to be charged for both)… and it was as intense as meeting I had been in ever.  When you talk about a no bullshit meeting, that was this.  She was one of the most interesting people I have ever met.  And probably THE MOST intense person I have ever met.  And, maybe that is what makes her so good.  I frankly think people see her in the court room and want to run.  I don’t think even Judges like having her in their court room.  She is intimidating; both in style and in presence.   I figured if DR had learned from her, I was going to be okay.

****

Life went on.  

Text messages in the middle of the night.  

Late to visitations.  

Christmases were missed, Thanksgivings were missed.  Great for me, a little hard for Ellie to understand.  Sure she was happy to not have to go, but to try to understand what was more important was a tough pill to swallow.  I tried to explain the best I could, but there was little I could say.

One Saturday morning when DP showed up, Ellie flat out refused to go.  DP came over the to bench and Ellie said, “I’m not going with you, I hate you.”

Silence.

I was not expecting this and it caught me quite off guard.

I felt her little hand grabbing on the my pants under my arm so that he couldn’t see it.  I glanced at her face and she was staying remarkably strong. 

“Go” she yelled.  “I am not going with you.” 

“Are you happy?” DP asked, looking at me. 

“I had nothing to do with this.” I simply said.

“I hate you and I am never going again with you.” She yelled again.

This was at a time when DP was wearing sunglasses routinely.  As a reminder, we were inside.  The glasses? I got nothing.  No idea.  Speculations, sure.  But mostly, they just drove me crazy. 

Again, at this point, he didn’t come closer, get down to her level ask what was wrong, suggest things they could do that day, he didn’t try to make her comfortable… he only got angry.  And, angry at me, at that.  Because, of course, it was my fault. 

“You have really messed things up, Amy.” He said. 

And he walked out the door. 

Ellie took the biggest breath in and looked at me and said, “I did it.” And I said, “you sure did! Where did that come from?”

And she explained that she didn’t want to go anymore.  

Our Mini-Series Continues

It was decided to go to court.  My lawyer, LK, figured we had enough information to get him on mental abuse and contempt of court.  We were lucky enough to get a close date.  We had a week to prepare.  I knew that I would be put on the stand.  I knew that I would be emotional.  I also knew that it was worth it.  After all, anything that would protect Ellie would be worth it. 

What DP would do or how he would act was a crap-shoot.  No one could say and it wasn’t worth hazarding a guess.  Would he admit to what he was doing or not? It would come down to his word against mine. 

I put on my “lawyer suit.” (The same suit and shirt I wore every time I went to court.  Ellie called it my lawyer suit because she thought I looked like a lawyer in it.  Personally I detested putting it on.  I tried occasionally to change the shirt underneath, but Ellie never thought it was right.  I had to trust her.  Once the zipper in my pants broke, it zipped in the back, and still wore them.  My lawyer suit… I may burn it after all is said and done.) and I was ready.  I always went to the court house too early.  It seemed like it was longer away then it really was.  Court generally started at 9:30.  My lawyer and I usually met at 9.  I was always there at least an hour early.  It was the worst possible thing.  I spent a lot of time in my car, palms sweaty, heart pounding, every scenario going through my mind. 

There are two entrances to the courthouse.  It took few trips, but I figured out which HE used and learned never to use it. 

LK met me at about 9.  We went over the questions for the umpteenth time.  I was ready. 

Standing as Judge R came in made it all too real.  While I still felt ready, I knew that it was ultimately up to him.  And, well, he has proven not to like me yet.   Maybe today was the day.

DP was still representing himself. 

LK and I sat on one side of the room.  DP sat in front of the bar on the other.  Behind him the usual folks. 

I was called to the stand first.  I talked about the issues with times – the fact that he was constantly late, the fact that he constantly canceling, the fact that he was constantly not showing up.  I had back up.  I had kept track of the time. 

I talked about the fact that he had never paid for half of her medical records, which were growing by leaps and bounds, at this point.  I showed that I had sent him the receipts asking for the money.  

My lawyer then questioned me about the word “mommy”.   Of course this was risky.  If DP had a lawyer, he could easily call “hearsay.” Knowing that DP didn’t know the law, LK figured we were okay. 

This time, the objection came from the Judge. 

“Come on, Mr K.” He said, “you know that is hearsay. I am not going to allow that.”

Stunned, LK stopped for a minute and tried to think of another way to get the same evidence in.  When he couldn’t, I was released.  DP had no questions for me.  Heart a bit heavier, I walked back to my chair.  It was now DP’s turn on the stand. 

LK asked him about being late, canceling and just not showing up.  He didn’t deny it.  He explained it by saying that sometime his work just called last minute and so he had to go.  As for being late, the documents said he could show up 15 minutes past the start time and the end time and he just said he was using that.  The Judge seemed to think that was okay. 

Then LK asked about using the word “mommy” around him.  Surprisingly, DP fully admitted that it wasn’t allowed.  I was in shock.  He explained that when Ellie was around him, he wanted it to be their time.  He didn’t want to hear about me or how I did things.  He didn’t want to hear my name or any reference to me.  So, yes, he punished her. 

The Judge, up on his chair of power, thought it was cute.  I remember him saying, “I can understand that.”

It was at that moment that I knew I was in this for the longest haul of my life.  Nothing would come easy.  Though I had the worst feeling in the pit of my stomach that something wasn’t right, that Ellie was being mistreated, possibly physically abused, definitely mentally abused, I was not being listened to.  I was not being heard. 

I was defeated.

 ******

April is national Child Abuse Awareness month. 

I never thought I’d be connected to one of the victims of these hateful and despicable crimes.  During the month of April, if there are events around you, please go.  Though we should all be doing it regularly, this gives us a time to learn how to protect our children. 

Children who live with violence and abuse learn at an early age that the world is a dangerous place. The reality is that one out of every four children in Oregon lives in a home where violence occurs and almost as many will be molested some time before their 18th birthday. Last school year 12,043 children were victims of child abuse/neglect in Oregon – 50% of these children were younger than 6 years old. 17 of these children died.

§  One in four girls and one in seven boys will be molested before the age of eighteen.

§  Family members are the perpetrators in ninety-four percent of child abuse cases.

Those are staggering statistics.  Gut wrenching.  Please be aware of the happenings in your child’s life.  Also, please pay attention to those children your child spends time with.  If you suspect a problem, by all means, talk to someone about it.  Trust your gut.  Ask questions.  Make sure you are looking at your neighborhood, and not just your own backyard.  These kids need us.  

Arcades and Movies and Curfews ... Oh My

Each visit was the same.  DP would show up just as we would be leaving as the clock struck 9:15 and there was a physical battle with trying to get Ellie to go with him.  The chaos would be enough for the entire Fred Meyer store to stop what it was doing and look at us.  I’d often suggest going outside to the parking lot so as not to become the circus act of the morning. 

DP would generally call and want to “deliver” her earlier than his time was allotted, but would never be there when he said he would be.  If he said, let’s meet at 8pm Saturday night, he would be there at 8:15.  It was a game to him.  There is no question in my mind. 

Each visit was the same in activity as well.  They would do one of three things.  Chuck E Cheese, Wunderland, or Safari Sam’s.   Now, I get that these three places are kid-friendly and upon occasion can be argued to be fun and exciting.  I even took Ellie to Safari Sam’s last week.  So, in principal, I have no huge qualms about a few of those places.  The issue I have and will always have is that he had the potential to have her 69 hours a month.  And those times were canceled.  Those times were late. Those times were spent playing video games.  Separately, not together.  They were not spent in ways that I would think you would want to really get to know your child. 

It astonished me when I got her back and I would say, what did you talk about? And the answer would be: nothing. 

The music was up too loud when they were driving to have a conversation and then when they went to one of these places, these “fun-lands” … he went one way and she went the other.  She had fun at the venues.  What kid wouldn’t? But, was that the purpose of the visits?

Often she would come home with wet pants.  This is after she was potty trained.  She never could find him to take her to the bathroom and so she would just wet herself.  Then, embarrassed to tell him, she would spend the day or evening in her soaked pants.  And, he never noticed. 

The exchange between the two of us was horrible.  I tried to be civil and have at least a pleasant “hello”.  But, he couldn’t even “stoop” to that.  He fought through the struggle to get Ellie and left. 

These horrifying moments were torturous to take.  I was sending her with this man who was not watching her, not being careful with her, not listening to her and she didn’t want to go.  Could I blame her? Absolutely not.  Yet, the law dictated that this was good for her. 

There was a day that was around the year point after he had started having her.  And he asked me to go to dinner with the two of them on Wednesday night.  I could literally count on my two hands the number of words we had exchanged up until that point so I was blown away by the request.  I had no desire to go.  I had no desire to be in the same vicinity with him.  I was so sick to my stomach by what he said that I immediately said no and turned around.  Then Ellie pulled on me and begged, Please. 

How could I say no to that?

We walked from the Fred Meyer parking lot to Izzy’s.  My stomach turning over and over again thinking what is this about? Is he moving? Is he dying? Does he need to tell me he can’t do this visitation thing anymore? Is he going to ask for more time? Less?

When we sat down, I asked immediately, “what’s up?” and he said, “wow, you cut to the chase.”

I remember saying, “you asked me here for a reason and I am curious what it is.”

He said, “I have some questions about how to take care of Ellie.”

Wow… I was shocked.  Was he coming to actually try to be a better parent?

“Okay… specifically… what do you mean?”

“For example, what do you do with her?”

“I play with her, take her to the park, talk to her, take walks.”

“How many movies can she watch a day?”

“One at the most,” I said

“How many are you letting her watch?” I asked.

“You don’t want to know,” he said.

“What about bedtime?” he asked.

“When do you put her to bed?” I replied

“Well, the last time I had her overnight we left the arcade in North Portland at 10:30 so we didn’t get home until 11.”

“She is 4 ½ ” I blurted out.  “What is a 4 ½ year old doing at an arcade in the first place and in the 2^nd place why is she staying out that late?”

“She likes it” he said.

“Of course she does.” I retorted.

By this time my heart was in my throat and I couldn’t see straight.  What was happening when he had her? It was much worse than I had thought.  I was thinking of the dungy dirty arcades and my 4 ½ year old being there at 10:30 at night.  And then the next morning watching movies until it was time for me to pick her up. 

I calmly took a breath and said, “look… you don’t have her that long.  Why don’t you skip the arcades and the Chuck E Cheeses and actually spend time with her? Do you know her favorite color? What she likes to do? Do you know that she wets her pants almost every time she is with you because she can’t find you and then she is afraid to tell you? And, WE, you and I, need to be civil.  Whether you realize it or not, she is watching us. When you come to get her, can you at least acknowledge me? And, would it hurt you to be on time? It is teaching her to be late.  And, I don’t think that is good.”

He thought about it all for a moment and then said, “you have good points.”

Dinner was over and I was done.  He still had time to visit with her, but said I could take her home.  That was fine with me.  I wanted to go scrub her free of the arcade she had been to a week before. 

The next time we met, I had high hopes for an on-time departure and a “hello” from her dad.  Neither came true.  And, they spent the day at Chuck E Cheese.

He texted me around 3pm to see if I could pick her up early.  

To Unsupervised Visits... No!

Visitation like this went on for a year and a half.  I continued to have no way of having a way of knowing whether DP was there or not.  It was a horrible feeling.  The “relationship” between JH and me went downhill as I lost more and more respect for her. 

I showed up on time, I always packed food and asked that they used that.  They never did.

Ellie didn’t want to go and as she got older was able to ask why? I didn’t have an answer.  But, I was cautious to never put him down.  It was in our signed agreement with the Judge.  Never to speak ill of the other person and I took it to heart.  I didn’t know what to tell her for why.  I just told her that we had to.  I explained that it was at least quick and that before long we would be together again. 

She could explain what they did now. Which was generally, nothing.  He would cook.  Not necessarily for her.  But, just cook.  And JH would play with her. 

Every time we went, there were tears.  There was a struggle. She did not want JH to touch her, she wanted to stay with me.  Again, I was forced to say, “go”.  It was what the law had said.  She asked me to watch as she walked up the stairs and I watched every time until she was indoors safely.   Sometimes I would just move to another place to see who was coming and going.  Sometimes I would just go up the street and do a little grocery shopping, sometimes I would just drive home, lie under the covers and cry until it was time to get her. 

It never got easier. 

I kept track of everything. 

Sadly, my lawyer saw no reason to go back.  The reality was that the Judge was clearly on DP’s side. He was not going to favor me for anything.

At this point, it was easier to not shake the boat than to do anything.  DP was seeing her very rarely and even though it was hard, he was canceling more than visits were actually happening.  So, I felt we were  in a relatively good position, all things considered.  I could only explain so much to Ellie and she would, I hope, one day understand it all, well, as much as I did.

When Ellie turned 3 and a half the visits were to change from supervised to unsupervised. 

DP, who had never been alone with Ellie now would get her every other weekend Saturday 9am- Sunday 5pm.  And every other Wednesday 5:30-8. 

This was terrifying to me.

Ellie at this point was a very vocal child.  She was very vocal about her interest, or lack thereof, in going to see her dad. 

We met at a mutual place.  The Fred Meyers on Beaverton Hillsdale Hwy.  It was because of the restraining order I had against him.  I will tell you this.  If it was going to be my time to have my daughter on my own for the first time, I would have been there with bells and whistles as early as possible.  Not him.  He overslept.  I got a text the first day he was to have her at 9:06 and he said, “alarm didn’t go off, I’m on my way.”

Really?

Oh, the ghost of Christmas Future…

There was a piece in our plan that said we had to wait 15 minutes for the person to arrive and that would not be considered late. Why there was even a starting time, is beyond me, then.  This comes into play in a pretty major way later on.  Our time to start out was 9am Saturday morning and he kept her to Sunday at 5pm.  

Which also meant he could show up at 5:15 and not get that “counted against him” so to speak. 

I grew up that if you are there on time, you are late.  My family was always the first to get there, wherever THERE was.  My father instilled promptness in me and I intend to instill it in my daughter.  I think it is a great attribute to have.  Getting a screaming 3 year old out the door, with a mother who is also in tears, but trying desperately to hide it is not easy in the mornings, but I will tell you I can count on 1 finger the times we were late. 

We would walk in, sit on a bench and I would try to “entertain” Ms Ellie while we waited.  She would ask, is it time to go? Can we go? Can we go now? Because she knew at 9:15, I was walking out the door and not looking back.  The employees of Fred Meyer got to know us very well.  I spent a large portion of the next few years on that bench.  The new schedule for visits were every other weekend Saturday 9-Sunday at 5.  And every other Wednesday 5:30-8.  Or in DP world 5:45-8:15.  Ellie is an early sleeper and these nights were tough as she goes to bed, yes still, at 7pm.  So, she was beyond consolable by the time I got her. 

I would say the new schedule was one of those times I said to myself “it can’t get much worse than this.” Just that feeling of not knowing what he was doing.  The feeling of her being so helpless.  The sheer terror as she got ready to go and didn’t want to go.  I knew in my gut something was wrong.  But, how do you explain a gut feeling from a frightened mom to anyone? How do you take what you are feeling and make anyone of authority listen to you? Believe me… you don’t.  I tried. 

The first time he finally showed up after “the alarm” incident, we were walking out the door at 9:15. 

There he was.   Sunglasses on.  No apologies.  DP never apologized for being late.  It drove me crazy.  He didn’t have a car seat, so, I had to give him mine. 

Right there in the middle of the Fred Meyer parking lot, Ellie had a breakdown.  She did not want to go. She was screaming and had a hold on me I will never forget, but was about to get used to.  She would put both her arms and her legs around me and I could have let go with my arms and she would have still been attached.  We were in public and I am sure that people wondered what we were doing to this child.  DP stood there doing nothing as I was trying to console her.  It would have helped if he said something like: “it will be okay, we will have fun” or “let’s do ____ today”  or, “I know this is hard, but we are going to have a great day”… but the fact that he was literally silent and looking away and not at her, was so unhelpful.  Finally I told him that he was going to have to literally peel her off of me and take her or it wasn’t going to happen. 

Well, that method or idea went over like a lead balloon. The kid was not going to come off.  We struggled for a good 30 minutes in the parking lot and finally got Ellie into her car.  I pleaded with him to call me if it continued and they were off.  And my heart was broken. 

Things only got worse.  

Visits with a Stranger

I had only met JH once before.  It was in a grocery store and it was very brief.  DP and I had been there together and by chance we had run into her.  It was very uncomfortable because she wasn’t someone he talked about often and when he did, she was not what I had pictured in my mind. 

I knew very little about her other than she and DP had dated several years, after that she had met her current husband and now apparently they lived close to Ellie and me. 

The timing of the “supervised visitations” was to be set up between us (JH and me).  It would be 2 hours on Saturday morning and 2 hours on Wednesday evening.  I was beside myself with fear.  I had, of course, left Ellie with the daycare provider and my family.  But this was different.  And though 4 hours a week doesn’t sound like a lot of time, 360 minutes of my baby being with people she doesn’t have a clue who they are, someone with an acknowledged drug and alcohol issue who had abandoned the very same person just months before was excruciatingly terrifying. 

The fact that I, in all honesty, had no idea what was happening in that house drove me batty.  The fact that I honestly didn’t even know if DP was there or not kept me up at nights.  The fact that my daughter hated going every single time and at the young age of just under 1 would make gag herself until she threw up made me highly aware that a rocky road was in front of us and I had better be ready to fight for the both of us. 

I remember the first time of dropping her off at JH’s house so vividly.  Packing her up, so little, no idea what was going on.  Singing on the short drive over, trying to keep from crying.  As we pulled up, JH would come down and I would hand Ellie to her.  She would then disappear with Ellie.  Ellie was not happy about it.  Screaming, crying, reaching for me.  I was trying to reassure her that it would be okay and then I couldn’t hold the tears in any longer.  At that point, JH reached out to put her hand on my shoulder and I thought, “how could you?”

My question to her, her mom, her husband has been and will always be, how can they continue to support this man? It flat out boggles my mind.  I will never understand it and I hope to one day get the chance to ask. 

I flinched as she touched me.  “No.” I remember saying.

I handed Ellie to her and said, you are just going to have to take her.  Call me if she doesn’t calm down. 

I could hear her screaming as they walked up the steps.  In my rear view mirror, I saw Ellie looking for me, I saw them enter the apartment and still heard the screams and I couldn’t drive.  I sat in the parking lot for a good 20 minutes as I composed myself and then I drove away. 

Those first few visits that followed were some of the longest “two-hour” chunks of time in my life.  Ellie never went without a fight.  Few words were spoken between JH and me.  He had 4 visits and decided to go to Florida to visit his family.  Family he hadn’t seen in decades.  He would be flying stand-by and had no idea what date he would return; so, I felt lucky to have more time with Ellie.  I also felt that it was a stupid decision as she would never get used to this man, who was her dad. 

He didn’t get back until after the New Year.  We had to start from scratch with the visits and Ellie not feeling comfortable.  Ellie’s birthday is January 11.  I remember there was a visit around that day and the outside of the apartment had balloons on it.  I thought it was a kind gesture.  But, something in me knew something was off.  I pulled to the side of the complex to just take a look.  It wasn’t just JH, DP and Ellie.  There were at least a dozen people who entered the apartment that Saturday morning.  I was filled with rage.  My thing was this.  Here was a man who wanted to get to know his daughter better.  He had been given 4 hours a week to do that.  As the state and the Judge said, those hours were for him.  He should, in my belief and the state’s be using them to get to know her.  To play with her.  To dote on her.  Not to host a party. 

I came back to get Ellie at the regular time that day.  The decorations on the door were down.  I asked JH what they had done that day.  “Nothing special” was her response.  As my head fumed and my heart raced, I drove off, now knowing what I had already suspected, even the person who was doing the supervised visits couldn’t be trusted.

I contacted my new lawyer the following day and let him know the progress of things.  His suggestion was to start keeping a diary of what I saw, how often thing got changed and what was happening at the visits.  We would put in a motion to go back to court and get child support and also try to explain exactly what should be happening at the visits as well as what was happening. 

Through emails, Saturday visits became Sunday visits because JH had a dentist appointment or a meeting.  Wednesday nights became Thursday nights because she had to work late.  I was juggling several balls and could keep nothing consistent. 

I became somewhat of a Private Detective, in my own right. I’d drive away after dropping Ellie off and then park on a side street and try to see what was happening.  It was fine, there wasn’t much I would be accomplishing during the 2 hours away anyway.  Driving to my house, thinking about Ellie, pacing, driving back to get her.  At least now I was conserving fuel. 

JH’s mom came nearly every time.  She’d leave before I came back to pick Ellie up.  I don’t know what her deal is/was with Ellie nor do I have yet to understand the whole relationship with her and DP.

At one point I got so frustrated with it all that I faced JH. 

“JH, I have it on camera.” I told her. 

“What?” she asked?

“The comings and goings of people.” I said. “How many times does DP leave early?”

“Everyday” she said.  Looking me straight in the eyes. 

As I let that statement sink in, because it was actually brand new news to me, I didn’t have anything on camera, I was so bloody irate.  Who was Ellie having visitations with? And for what? JH, her husband and her mom? I grabbed Ellie out of her hands, drove a few feet away, so she could not see me and had a full out melt down.  Why was this happening?

Court date was scheduled for the following week to try to get child support and hopefully put and end to this insanity.

Supervised Visitations

Court is a surreal thing.  You are there, either with representation, or without.  1 or 2 people sitting on either side of the room; and the Judge in front.  “The Bar” separates those people and the rest who are there for either the case in front of the Judge at that time or another that might be being heard after.  There are generally 2 other people in front of the bar; the person keeping the notes, and another -  an assistant to the Judge. 

All of this continues day in and day out.  The idea that one man or one lady… the Judge here, has the final ruling on what happens is what baffles me.  Sure, you want to believe in our system, you want to hope that this Judge is going to know all that has taken place and have the person’s best interest at heart that they should (the child in family court), but do they? Do they spend enough time with each case to understand the idiosyncrasies of each case, or is it that each case is somewhat like a cookie cutter case and while some of the insides change just a little bit, the Judge wants the outside to look the same and will do whatever it is to make that happen?

I am a true believer that our system, the one we have in this glorious, rich, beautiful country of ours, is broken.  And it hurts those that it should protect, the children.

DP sat on the stand, sworn in and admitted to leaving.  He admitted to using cocaine, he admitted to using meth, marijuana and alcohol.  And then he said, that he was clean now.  He further explained that he came back because he wanted to have a life with his child and he was a different man then most.  Most men, especially black men, he went on, would just stay away, but, he, oh, he, wanted to be in his child’s life and was ready to do so. 

While I heard these words I knew we would be okay.  Surely, after admitting that he was a drug user, he would have to go through some kind of testing or counseling before anything else happened.  Ellie would certainly be safe from this man, a mystery man at this point in her life. 

My lawyer went on to question him.  She asked about the times he was in the psychiatric ward.  She asked if he took the medicine prescribed to him.  Or course he didn’t, I thought, and I was thrilled as I was sitting taller in my seat.  We are going to walk out of here and this is going to OVER.

When it came my time for questions, I was able to talk about the time that DP left.  The time that he was on all 4’s over me.  How scared I had become, the restraining order I had just gotten.  I talked about living at my aunts, I talked about my fear of him and how I felt that he added nothing to Ellie’s life as he was right now, but perhaps if he got help, we could revisit it later. 

As I sat down, the judge already had his ruling, he explained that he thought DP was right, not many men would come back.  It was good that he wanted to be involved and this was the first step.  He would have supervised visitation.

As the words came out of the Judge’s mouth, I saw my small daughter in my eyes and my heart fell to the floor.  I was in shock.  Had he not heard that he was going to make our lives’ a living hell? Had he not heard that he was a drug user? And who was he to believe he had stopped? Was he looking at the same man that I was?

Before I could make sense of anything, as the tears were rolling down my face the Judge said, that we would have to pick a supervisor.  I had always known of supervised visitations to be done by the state and for the parent doing the visiting to have to pay for them.  My lawyer suggested just that and the Judge, again, in my opinion, pro-DP, said that since “dad” didn’t have any money and didn’t have a job there would be no way for him to pay. So, let’s be fair and figure out another way. 

I’m sorry what?

Huh?

Did I just hear all that correctly?

So, because he is a worthless bastard who is living off the state, let’s give him pity and have WHO supervise my precious daughter and him???

As the Judge looked at me and said, “Mom, do you know anyone who would be willing to do the supervising?” I nearly became unglued.  Well, I did come unglued.  I started to explain how wrong I thought this all was and that nothing here seemed right and that he should be tested for drugs and he should be in counseling and that someone for the state should supervise.  It fell on deaf ears. 

The Judge repeated, “mom, any suggestions?”

I didn’t have any.  No one I knew would want to be around him.  I was stunned.  It was all moving so fast.  I shook my head no. 

“Dad, any suggestions?”

“Yes.”

Again, my mouth fell to the floor.  What on Earth was this man going to suggest?

“I’d like to suggest JH.”

Well, JH happens to be his ex-girlfriend.  Was he serious? As I said before, she was there.  The judge asked if she was willing to do it.  Of course she was.  Then he turned to me:

“Mom, and objections?”

“Yes, too many to know where to start.”

“Well,” said the Judge, “if you don’t have another person, this is who we are going to go with.  I will give you 3 minutes”

In the end, I had no one else to go with.  It would end up being JH, DP’s ex-girlfriend.  She and her husband lived in an apartment not far from Ellie and me.  Visitations would be once on every weekend for 2 hours and once during the week for 2 hours.  I would take Ellie there, meet JH in the parking lot and pick her up after.  The only people who were supposed to be in the apartment were DP, JH and Ellie.  But, who is to know if that is so or not.  Just one month shy of her 1 year birthday, I was taking Ellie to a woman she didn’t know, in a parking lot, handing her over, for her to take up to a man that she didn’t know.   And so, supervised-visitations began. 

From 20 days to 10 months ... He disappeared

From the day that DP left, at 20 days old, until the day Ellie was about 10 months old, I didn’t hear anything from him.  I was in off and on contact with his dad and his sister who lived in Florida.  I had never met them, but I sought them out to try to figure out what to do with his belongings.  I wanted them out of my house and I wanted to close this chapter in my life. 

I went from many feelings of sorrow to just feeling pissed.  How dare he do this to me? To us? I was left with about 2 months to find day care for Ellie.  To go from being a “family” (how quickly those definitions changed in my head) to being a single mom (now … present time – more of a family than ever … but, going through it… it was hard).  It took me about a week to tell anyone that he had left. 

Then it was even harder because no one could find him.  His friends had no idea, his family didn’t hear from him, he literally fell off the face of the Earth.  After about 3 months, I started to pack his things.  I found powered substances and, because he was a chef, thought they just might be baking powder or soda.  However, it was not.  It was cocaine.  Then came the pile of weed I found.  I was blind-sided that he had been doing drugs under my roof.  That he had left the drugs there.  Completely baffled still that I had no clue.  Was I seriously that stupid? His phone was turned off and there was no sign of him anywhere in the city. 

I figured he was dead. 

Soon, I felt nothing. 

Ellie and I would be fine on our own.  Certainly not the way I had it planned, but this was our new life and it would have to work.  We were not given a choice. 

I got a call from his father one night (not a warm, fuzzy man) and he asked if I had heard from DP.  No, I said.  Well, he had decided that he was going to call the local police and do a missing persons report.  The call had come late at night and I asked that they not get me involved.  #1. I had nothing to contribute.  #2. The baby was asleep and I was headed that way and I frankly didn’t want police coming to visit my house.  I believed that people in my neighborhood were talking enough already. 

Shortly thereafter, there was a knock on my door.  The police.  Great.  I didn’t tell them much. Only that I hadn’t hear from him in several months and I wasn’t interested in what they found. 

I learned the next day that they found him.  He was with someone named LH.  She was the mother of his ex-girlfriend.  My emotions got even more on the side of not caring as now that I knew he was alive and didn’t care about his daughter, my patience was zero. 

****

I remember it being a beautiful day out and Ellie and I going for a walk to Walgreens.  She loved to be outside and we were enjoying the weather.  My phone was ringing off the hook with a number that I didn’t recognize.  I hadn’t been answering those numbers because I was worried that something big was about to happen.  I figured if someone needed to talk to me, they could leave a message and I’d get back to them. 

Finally a message. 

It was DP’s sister.  She had come to town from Florida and she was going to stop by my house with DP. 

My heart had never beat THAT fast as it did when I heard those words.  I didn’t want to see him, I didn’t want to see her.  I had no interest in any of it.  What makes her think that she could just do that? I was horrified.  I got Ellie inside from our walk and tried to think things through.  My world was starting to turn again. 

I would just call her back, hope to get her voice mail, and tell her no.  If she came anyway, I would just not answer the door.  All of that seemed easy. 

I did just that.  I got the voice mail.  I said, I didn’t want them coming by, it wasn’t right.  And then I hung up and went about our night.  When it came to about 9pm, I thought she had listened.  I felt good about it all.  Ellie was in bed, I was finishing up some work and then there was a knock on the door.  Who shows up at 9 on a “school night?” Especially when you have been asked not to?

I was furious.  The doorbell just kept ringing.  They obviously knew I was there.  If that continued, the baby would wake up.  I opened the door and a ghost of the person I knew was there.  It wasn’t DP.  This person was 30 pounds plus lighter.  And he didn’t weigh that much to begin with.  You could see every vein in his neck.  His face was hallow. I had to look away because it was disgusting to look at.  His sister, probably 6 inches taller than both of us stood “over” us both. 

“Ellie is asleep and I asked you not to come.” I said, not even letting there be an exchange of pleasantries. 

She introduced herself.  I did the same back.  And  then she asked if DP could just see Ellie. 

I said no. 

She asked why and I reinforced the fact that it was late, Ellie was on a schedule.  I then went on to say that if he really wanted to see her, he would have done something in the last 10 months.  I took over a bit by going on a diatribe of questions: where had he been for 10 months, what had he been doing, how could someone do that, etc…

His sister jumped in and said, “that is not what tonight is about.  Tonight is about him seeing his daughter.  It will help him heal.”  What the Fuck? Heal? And since when did it become about him?

No.  They would need to leave. 

Well, couldn’t he just sneak in her room and see her?

No.

I was fearing now that I would have to call the police; the same ones who were just here a couple nights prior. 

DP still had not said a word. No eye contact had been made.  The entire interaction was surreal.  Was he so messed up that he couldn’t speak? My head was literally spinning.  I was praying that Ellie would not wake up.  I just wanted them off my property. 

I finally said that I was going to shut the door. 

His sister said, so you are keeping him from his daughter?

I believe you could see my heart pounding.

I politely said, “she is our daughter.” And yes.

She said, “then I guess we will see you in court.”

****

The good news is that I had already hired a lawyer.

I was going to get full custody of Ellie when he was missing, but had only done the leg work of finding an attorney and retaining her. 

At this point, with his sister saying, we will see you in court, I still figured, I would leave it up to them to do the initiating.  Sadly, though, that night did change the way I lived.  I now looked behind me and in front of me every single time I left my house.  I checked around my house as I pulled in.  I was highly alert of everything I did and everywhere I went.  The happy-go-lucky life we had went out the window.  He was back … and he wanted Ellie.

Pregnancy... No Glow, Just a Long 9 Months

I called one of DP’s friend’s to come over and help me sort things out while I actually went to the hospital to have the baby checked.  My worry was that I had been through so much and my stress level was so high, I had done something to the little one inside me. 

His friend CM came over and tried to have a chat with DP, but DP wasn’t talking. I had low electrolytes at the hospital and stayed on some IVs for a couple hours.  I figured it was a nice place to be at the time.

When I got home, things were cleaned up and I had a speech practiced in my head about what I was going to say to DP.  I was ready.  There he lay in my bed. 

“So, I heard about your job. I saw the bullets. Are you thinking about killing yourself?”

“Yes”

“Why?”

“What use am I to you or to the baby?”

At this point, I wished that I had stayed at the hospital, my knees were weak, I could feel all the blood rushing out of my body and I needed to sit. I had no desire to sit on the bed though, I was so furious with this man, I didn’t want to be close to him.  I still loved him, but how on Earth could he do this to me? To us?

“Look,” I said, “it’s a job. You will find another one. But, drinking yourself to death or shooting yourself isn’t the answer. And it certainly isn’t going to happen here.”

“Then, I’ll do it somewhere else” he said.

But he didn’t move. 

I could tell he was not messing around.  He was suicidal. I was worried and my mind quickly was reminded of the night I told DP about being pregnant.  That night, the officer had committed suicide.  I kept thinking about his wife and how she must feel.  What about their 3 year old son? And all I could think about was how would I feel if DP killed himself and how would I explain it to our baby someday. 

I found a suicidal hotline and I called it. They didn’t want to talk to me, but instead wanted to talk to DP.  I held the phone to his ear.  He listened and occasionally grunted.  I took the phone back and they suggested I get him to a hospital ASAP.  Of course, he didn’t want to go. We called another hotline. Same deal.  He wasn’t budging.  I finally got him to promise that if the next day was no better, he would go to the hospital. 

The following day we headed to St Vincent’s and he was admitted to the psychiatric ward.  The relief that I felt was immeasurable.  I wanted him to stay forever.  I just wanted him to get better and come back being the old DP that I knew.  I went home and slept. 

Sadly, 3 short days later, they let him out and then I felt like he was “under my care.”

And yet, I had a full time job (our only income), a baby in my belly and me to talk care of. This is not how I pictured the lovely 9 months of pregnancy.  I was certainly not glowing.

This is about when I learned that the saying “it can’t get any worse” is one of the most asinine sayings in the world… at least in my life.

Shit just fell apart.

I was about 23 weeks pregnant at this point and my routine became the following:

DP stayed at my house and drank – generally crown royal (still can’t stand the smell of that stuff) - from the time he got up until the time he passed out. Because I was super sensitive to the smell and his mood, I packed a bag and stayed nearby at my aunt’s.  In the morning, I’d come home, he’d be passed out, I would check to see if he was breathing. I would shower, change clothes and head to work. 

It was a lovely “nesting” time for me.  And I so looked forward to our life ahead together … oy!

At about week 28 I had had it.  I was done.  I had a very strong desire to nest.  To sleep in MY bed.  To get the nursery ready.  To be in my house.  And my time of letting him do what he was doing was over. I staged an intervention.  I gathered a couple of his friends and I asked for their help and I told them this was either him deciding to get help, or I was ready to do it all on my own (it wasn’t like we had a life together) and get him out of the house. 

It was probably one of the more intense days I can remember.  I actually sat in back of his car so he couldn’t leave (I’m somewhat surprised he didn’t run me over).  After I would say a good 4 hours, he broke down and finally agreed to go back to the hospital.  At this point, I left him in the hospital room (we were back at St V’s) by himself and begged the doctors to take him to the psychiatric ward.  I cried and said, I don’t want him to come home with me. The state took custody of him that night and kept him for a week.  He had no say in the matter, but was mighty pissed at me. 

Home at last, able to nest, I felt good and was wrapping my head around the fact that this was not going to be a fairy tale-esque story (I’m pretty quick on the up-take). 

The fear of doing it all on my own was very real. What would people say (funny thing is now, I don’t give that a thought.  Have the times changed? Or have I?), how would I manage everything I needed to, and how the heck would I know what to do with her hair?! (J)

DP came out claiming to be a new man.  I bought it hook, line and sinker.  He had changed, he wanted to be part of this family and he was going to stop drinking and find a job.  My hormones believed every word he said in the shiny glow of happiness.  It was the pregnancy miracle I had been looking for. 

Too bad he never went to look for jobs… maybe that part was coming soon…

At week 32, I came down with double pneumonia and was put into the hospital.  (I know, at this point you would be changing the channels on your remote, because you just can’t buy it all right?!)… DP decided not to stay with me in the hospital so he could get some sleep. 

“Hey,” I asked, “can you at least call my mom so she knows where I am? Maybe she will come and stay.”

“Of course” he said.

That night, no sleep, due to hacking up golf-sized pieces of phlegm with a big baby on my belly, I kept hoping to see my mom walk in.  She would know what to do to make me feel better.  IF SHE KNEW I WAS THERE…

The following day, I called her collect.  He hadn’t called her. But, an hour later, she was in my hospital room.  I was in for 3 days and then let go.

So happy to be home, as I sat slowly onto the bed, I had a coughing attack. CRACK. I cracked my rib while coughing.  Luckily DP was right there, unable to speak, I just cried and wrote “hospital” on a piece of paper. 

He took me immediately back and they admitted me and put me on an IV drip of morphine.  It was literally the best I had felt all of my pregnancy. THEN, I remembered to ask, “this doesn’t hurt the baby, does it?”

Ellie was due the week of one of the worst snow/ice storms in Portland history. The city was shut down, the airport was shut down for several days.  My dad was stuck in California unable to fly back.  My mom never would have made it up from McMinnville had Ellie been on time.  Luckily she held out until the roads were a little clearer.  She showed up 2 days late.  Labor was a grueling 36 hours and then we had a c-section.  Stubborn right from the get-go. 

I think this catches us up to going into the court systems.  Don’t turn the channel just yet… 

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.