Parental Alienation

Motherhood wasn't suppose to be like this. Who would have thought I would have to fight for my right to be your parent? I carried you for 9 months. I gave birth to you. I have a scar on my belly from the incision where you were pulled out of my body. I was there when you breathed your first breath. I held you in my arms for the first time, crying as I listened to you cry. I was already so proud to be your mom, and I was so excited to start this new chapter of my life with you! Little did I know, I would be fighting for the right to be your parent.

The years passed swiftly, and my relationship with your dad mirrored the seasons, hot and cold, hot and cold, hot and cold. I couldn't take anymore! The constant fighting over everything and nothing. There was no pleasing your dad, no matter how many hoops I jumped through. My joy had been engulfed by the constant storm that our marriage was.

I made several attempts to get out of the relationship, I even bought us a house one time. It was just hard being alone, and when I say hard, I mean lonely. I had already been down that road before, divorced with a kid, and here I was again. The guilt I carried from my first divorce, from your brother's dad, coupled with the guilt I felt from putting you through the same thing, overwhelmed me. The guilt was the water, I was the dam, and I was beyond broken.

I sold our house and we moved back home with your dad. I desperately wanted and needed us to be a family, but a happy family. He and I made new promises to each other, and I felt whole again. We had some good times as a family, and I knew you were happy. Things were great for a little while, but then it started to rain again and soon came another flood.

One Friday after work, I picked you and your brother up, then went home. We ordered pizza, then sat in the floor coloring while we waited for it to be delivered. Meanwhile, your dad came home from fishing. We had been arguing throughout the day and he was angry with me. We planned to take you and your brother out of town the next day, to a large community yard sale, and a friend of mine wanted to tag along. She was pregnant, and this was going to be her last out of town outing. He was angry about her wanting to tag along, and I was angry that I even mentioned it. So, trying to diffuse the situation, I suggested that we go ahead of her, take you and your brother to spend the night in a hotel, use the pool and just hang out. For reasons still fully unknown to me, this enraged him! He retorted that there were storms heading in that direction and it seemed he could not express enough how foolish I was being. I was done arguing, the decision was made, we weren't leaving until morning. I ignored him and his comments about our conversation. At this point, he had double murdered my reconciling spirit.

Once your dad realized his hurtful comments wouldn't get a rise out of me, he grabbed you up out of the floor, where you, me, and your brother were sitting and coloring, and he took you outside. At first, I didn't really think about it, but after a few minutes of letting what just happened sink in, I became irritated. I waited a another minute, and when he didn't come back inside, I got up and walked outside to where he was. Over your dad's shoulder, you reached for me, but your dad jerked his shoulder forward which pulled you just out of my reach. I swatted at him with my already extended hand, and demanded he hand you over to me. Instead of just giving you to me, so we could return to coloring with your brother, he took off running! Not fully understanding what was happening, I started out after him, yelling for him to stop, but realized I wasn't wearing shoes.

Now please understand, what I'm about to reveal to you was a reaction that stemmed from an entire relationship full of disappointment and frustration. I was so MAD! I was upset, angry, confused, and frustrated at the situation, not to mention the entire relationship. I just did NOT understand why he was doing what he was doing. I mean, he was known for being jealous and controlling. For the most part, I usually submitted to all his requests, regardless of how ridiculous they were. I just wanted to have a family. I wanted to love someone and be loved back by that person. It sounds like a simple request, right? Apparently it wasn't that easy for him.

Once I realized I wasn't wearing shoes, I became hysterically unhinged. All of a sudden, it seemed like every nerve I had in my feet were exposed. I was barefoot on sharp gravel. I didn't even know what was happening, but I couldn't believe it was happening. I made a split second decision upon recalling tools in the bed of his truck. I trudged my way to the back of his old beat up Chevy truck, that I bought for him, and pulled out the shovel. Then shuffled around to the front, at the driver side. I raised that shovel as far up and back as my arms would go and came back down on that windshield with as much force as my adrenaline riddled body would allow. I did this until my arms and legs became weak! I have never felt as mentally unstable as I did in that moment.

Your uncle lived right next door, and had recently become a sheriff. I just figured your dad would stay there until bedtime, then return home with you. I was shaking-mad, and in total shock over what just happened. Your brother didn't know what to think either, but we both returned inside and just sat there in shock. A little bit had passed and there was a knock on the door. When I opened the door, it was the police. He asked if he could come in, I started crying again as I let him in. He told me why he was there, and asked what happened. I spilled the entire crazy story, and he said he had to arrest me for domestic violence. He told me that your dad had called them with claims of domestic violence. Your brother was instantly frantic, crying with uncontrollable hysteria! As I pulled him close to console him, the cop told me we would wait for someone to come pick your brother up and quietly informed me he wouldn't cuff me in front of your brother. I called his dad, and twenty minutes later, I was cuffed, and put in the back of the cop car. Your uncle, his girlfriend, and your dad stood at the driveway watching. Your dad was holding you. They watched as I was being driven away to jail.

I was fingerprinted, and booked into the jail. I was in jail. I, was actually, in jail. I eventually stopped crying and everything just sank in. I was having to spend 12 hours in jail because of domestic violence. I sat on the concrete bed and just looked around my current sleeping quarters. I was cold and my head was pounding from all the crying. I didn't sleep a wink that night.

After twelve hours of eternity, morning finally came. I was bailed out by my uncle. He took me to my granddad's house. I wanted to bathe and sleep and see my kids, but I did not want to talk to your dad. Your dad didn't seem to care that I kept silencing his calls. I had just sunk down into a hot bath as he was blowing my phone up. I finally just answered, annoyed, but just emotionally defeated and exhausted. He asked me if I was coming home, and I couldn't do anything but scoff. "Now, I'm tellin' you", a phrase he used a lot, "You'll be sorry if you don't come home.". I asked to talk to you, but he told me you were with his mom. I just hung up at that point, so disgusted with everything. I got out of the bath and went straight to bed.

The next day was Sunday. I don't remember if I went to church or not, but knowing that I was at papa's, I probably didn't have a choice. I just know that I still didn't see or talk to you. Fast forward to Monday. I had to work, I do remember that. When I arrived at the office, I shared my story with all my coworkers, re-enacting being handcuffed and put in the back of the cop car. I needed to laugh about it and since they shared in a lot of my turmoil because of your dad, I knew they understood how ridiculous my weekend had been. Sometime later that afternoon, I was served with papers. I seriously thought I would bring on a seizure because of how hard and long I rolled my eyes. I stepped to the back office and opened the paper. I had been served with a PFA; that is a Protection from Abuse order. It stated that I couldn't be around you unsupervised, and that I couldn't contact the victim, your dad. My mouth fell open and I just sat there crying.

Now you're 16, and all this started when you were just two.