I have been so caught up with Pesach and its aftermath that I havent even considered coming here to write.
Now that the kids are back in school and some sort of a schedule has been implemented I have some time to reflect and put my thoughts into words.
During Pesach someone very close to me gave birth to a little girl. This was truly a simcha and I felt a surge of joy as I held the newborn in my arms.
I was happy- I wanted to be happy- and I was determined to remain happy.
Alas my brain and PTSD had other ideas. All of a sudden I was flung full force into the frightening past.........
(January 1989)
I am pregnant with my first child.
As soon as I find out that I am pregnant I feel relief wash over me. I think that now that I am pregnant with M's child he will no longer kick and punch my body. He will certainly change his attitude- he has to, I am having his baby, and soon we will be a family.
I have never been more wrong in my life.
Not only did M's violence not change but it escalated into proportions that I could not have dreamed of.
One day when I was about 8 months pregnant, M came home from work and demanded to know why I had closed the window in the dining room when he had specifically left it open before leaving for work in the morning. I knew before it happened that I was in big trouble. His reasons for hitting me were unpredictable. They changed from one day to the next. Sometimes it was because he didnt like the food I had prepared, and sometimes there was too much dust on top of the doors. In my heart I still clung to the belief that if I could only become a better wife to M he would cease to fly into these terrible rages and we would be happy together.
It was only years later, after much therapy that I understood the cycle of abuse, and that no matter how much I did for M, he still would have found a reason to abuse me.
As soon as the words came out of M's mouth i knew with frightening clarity what was about to occur. My belly protruding with my unborn child, I stood paralyzed, my back pressed against the far wall i knew there was no where for me to run.
I could not do anything to protect myself, and I watched as though in slow motion as he came towards me, fists balled in anger. His blue eyes dark with rage, his mouth spewing vulgarities he pounced on me. I screamed as i uselessly tried to protect the small baby curled inside my belly. I covered my abdomen with my arms so that the blows landed on my back and shoulders. His rage was so absolute he could not control himself. He kept on punching and hitting my body until i fell to the ground in a pathetic heap. He looked down at me scornfully, and said; "Thats what you get for disobeying your husband!".
I was lying on my side doubled up in pain, when he lifted his booted foot and kicked me hard right in my stomach.
Without another glance he stormed out of the house and slammed the door.
I lay on the floor broken and alone.
i had no where to turn, no one to talk to and no one to comfort me.
I pulled myself up and crawled to my bed.
I lay on my bed tears not shed thick behind my eyes. I placed my hands on my stomach hoping my little baby had escaped unharmed.
Now that the kids are back in school and some sort of a schedule has been implemented I have some time to reflect and put my thoughts into words.
During Pesach someone very close to me gave birth to a little girl. This was truly a simcha and I felt a surge of joy as I held the newborn in my arms.
I was happy- I wanted to be happy- and I was determined to remain happy.
Alas my brain and PTSD had other ideas. All of a sudden I was flung full force into the frightening past.........
(January 1989)
I am pregnant with my first child.
As soon as I find out that I am pregnant I feel relief wash over me. I think that now that I am pregnant with M's child he will no longer kick and punch my body. He will certainly change his attitude- he has to, I am having his baby, and soon we will be a family.
I have never been more wrong in my life.
Not only did M's violence not change but it escalated into proportions that I could not have dreamed of.
One day when I was about 8 months pregnant, M came home from work and demanded to know why I had closed the window in the dining room when he had specifically left it open before leaving for work in the morning. I knew before it happened that I was in big trouble. His reasons for hitting me were unpredictable. They changed from one day to the next. Sometimes it was because he didnt like the food I had prepared, and sometimes there was too much dust on top of the doors. In my heart I still clung to the belief that if I could only become a better wife to M he would cease to fly into these terrible rages and we would be happy together.
It was only years later, after much therapy that I understood the cycle of abuse, and that no matter how much I did for M, he still would have found a reason to abuse me.
As soon as the words came out of M's mouth i knew with frightening clarity what was about to occur. My belly protruding with my unborn child, I stood paralyzed, my back pressed against the far wall i knew there was no where for me to run.
I could not do anything to protect myself, and I watched as though in slow motion as he came towards me, fists balled in anger. His blue eyes dark with rage, his mouth spewing vulgarities he pounced on me. I screamed as i uselessly tried to protect the small baby curled inside my belly. I covered my abdomen with my arms so that the blows landed on my back and shoulders. His rage was so absolute he could not control himself. He kept on punching and hitting my body until i fell to the ground in a pathetic heap. He looked down at me scornfully, and said; "Thats what you get for disobeying your husband!".
I was lying on my side doubled up in pain, when he lifted his booted foot and kicked me hard right in my stomach.
Without another glance he stormed out of the house and slammed the door.
I lay on the floor broken and alone.
i had no where to turn, no one to talk to and no one to comfort me.
I pulled myself up and crawled to my bed.
I lay on my bed tears not shed thick behind my eyes. I placed my hands on my stomach hoping my little baby had escaped unharmed.
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