The liberated feminist women at the Salvation Army couldn’t be troubled to produce their own kids ~ instead, they thought it appropriate to steal mine ~ Lieutentants A & B seemed determined to capture my children’s hearts and turn them away from our godly family values.

Lt. B, the “youth pastor,” had decided that it simply wasn’t right that Angel was only allowed minimal participation in the youth activities.  She seemed suspicious that Angel was being used and abused ~ and she was determined to find out just exactly what Angel was really thinking and feeling.  Lt. B looked for opportunities to catch Angel alone and asked her the most prying questions about our home life.  

This was intolerable for several reasons.  First and foremost, we looked upon this woman’s “concern” as a violation of our family integrity ~ she had no business, in our opinion ~ going around our legitimate parental authority ~ planting seeds of doubt and discontent in Angel’s mind.

Secondly, the Lieutenant’s scrutiny of our family practices made Warren feel threatened and defensive ~ and I don’t have to tell you about the hell we had to pay whenever Warren’s self-protection trip was triggered.  Oh ~ the lectures we were subjected to as he sought to convince himself and us that we were okay ~ our ways were God’s ways and therefore, the very best ways. 

What bothered me the most about Lt. B’s private conversations with Angel was the change in my daughter’s attitude ~ she was listening to this woman and being influenced to consider whether she truly was happy or if this was really the sort of life which she desired.  Relations between Angel and her dad were already strained enough ~ without any “help” from Lt. B.  So when Angel began to speak up for her own ideas ~ my job as mediator between her and Warren became all the harder.  Ack.

I just didn’t have the energy for this sort of trouble ~ and fortunately, I didn’t have to deal with Lt. B for very long as Warren had discovered a home fellowship out in the country ~ about 40 miles from where we live.  A long drive, yes ~ but it would be totally worth the trouble to finally be a part of a home church where our family’s values and goals were shared, affirmed and supported ~ not only by the adults, but all the children were being raised according to the same biblical principles ~ so hopefully, Angel and her siblings would be encouraged to embrace these convictions too. [Read more →]

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I will admit that it was a bit of an adjustment returning home after the two-week stay at the hospital when Chassé had her first surgery.  When a friend expressed sympathy for what must have seemed like a stressful ordeal, I responded, only half kiddingly that, “Actually, being at that children’s hospital was kind of like taking a mini-vacation to KiddieLand.”  While Chassé recovered from her surgery, I had plenty of time to read, take naps, watch TV, and just think ~ it was relaxing, which was refreshing since I rarely had any time to myself at home.
 
It was distressing to me to discover that I really was not anxious to get home to Warren where, rather than calling me on the phone several times a day with whatever issue he was stressing over with Angel ~ he had 24/7 access to me and so he was constantly coming to me with one problem or another.  Of course, I felt bad for Angel that she’d had to put up with her dad’s pettiness for two weeks without me there to run interference ~ still, a selfish little part of me enjoyed taking a break from the dailiness of the contention between my husband and my daughter.
 
I hated that selfish little part of me because it meant that, as much as I wanted to think of myself as having a wholehearted dedication to the Lord, it was apparent that I’d reserved a tiny speck of self interest ~ there was a piece of me that wanted to put myself first ~ even though it meant that my daughter had to suffer more than the usual amount of vexation from Warren.  

Truthfully, I didn’t want to go back to dealing with Warren’s crazy-making contentions at all.  Having a bit of a respite made me realize just how tired I was ~ made me wish I’d had a chance to recuperate from my torturous 4th pregnancy ~ but, it was too late because now I was pregnant again. [Read more →]

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Baby Hazelle ~ 2/23/96

That first year after Hazelle’s birth was sort of a mini-hell for me.  I was so traumatized by all that I’d been through ~ every time that I looked at my baby, I wept as a flood of memories flashed through my mind: the pain and misery, the severe anxiety, the sleep deprivation and utter exhaustion, the humiliation of having my huge, naked body strapped down to the operating table, the fight for my life when I thought the anesthesiologist was suffocating me, those horrid nurses ~ especially the sadistic @#$%& who rammed that NG tube up my nose, down my throat, into my stomach and then vengefully attached that blue bulb syringe to dangle from the end of my nose ~ my mother’s pleadings, and worst of all, my own desperate attempts to understand all that had happened in light of my faithful obedience and sincere trust in the Lord.  I felt humiliated and crushed when I considered how enthusiastic I had been at the prospect of realizing in my own life the Lord’s special blessing as I unreservedly committed the most personal aspects of my life to the furtherance of His Kingdom.

Often at night, I startled awake in a sweat-soaked bed from a repeated nightmare in which a dozen pairs of mocking eyes looked down at me ~ green masks covered the smirking grins of the ER staff as the doctor who was cutting an incision across my lower abdomen made derisive comments about homebirth and VBACs.  I could never quite make out what exactly the doctor was saying, until …

Several months after the delivery, I received a note in the mail asking me to sign a form so the business office could submit their invoice to Medicaid for payment.  I looked at the paper ~ it was an informed consent form for a hysterectomy.  What?!!  No-one told me that I’d had a hysterectomy.  I called the doctor’s office to ask what this was about.  Nobody seemed to know anything.  “Will someone please check my records and tell me whether or not I still have a uterus?” I asked in exasperation.

… that night ~ in my dream, I could clearly hear the doctor’s words and I understood what they were all laughing about, “A woman who could be so reckless and irresponsible doesn’t deserve to have a womb … I’m taking it out.” [Read more →]

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