by WC Child
My mother stepped away from the wheelchair and allowed me to have my bonding moment with my child. This was truly the most beautiful sight in the entire world. She made me proud to be her mother. Just when I thought my love for her had reached its apex, space in my heart opened up and made room for more. With the purity of this new love came the unquenchable hunger to feast on these maternal feeling to my heart’s desire. I had fought with the devil to sustain her life and I would allow that pride to raise my head and puff out my chest, just a little. Because of my unaccomplished births, I would never take her for granted. I knew this bundle would not be responsible for my happiness; that was left up to me. Her job would be to allow me to love her as hard as humanly possible. That expression of unconditional love would help dry up jars of tears I had filled up in the wake of life’s disappointments.
Although I had been mesmerized by these new beginnings, I knew I hadn’t gotten there alone. Generations of love converged in the space between each tiny heartbeat. Had it not been for Big Mama’s wisdom and guidance, we would not have been able to feast on this tiny existence. I was so fortunate my mother had been there to save us. I reached for my mother’s hand. She moved closer so that we could experience a portion of this elusive milestone. Together, we fell more in love with the gift God had planted in our lives. I knew it would be fitting to name her Joy. As we made our way back to the room, my senses were delighted by the unmistakable aroma of coffee. I knew that Big Mama was still there with me. I could feel her smile.
Chapter 57
Am I a Woman Yet?
I felt intoxicated by happiness when I returned to my room after meeting my daughter. I didn’t know how long it would take to adapt to these new circumstances, but I had been ready for this chance for many years. I still found it hard to believe that we both had survived. I thanked fate for mercy and allowed myself to be restored by what the future could bring. I disregarded judgement and began to evaluate life from a fresh perspective. I was encouraged by gratitude, but had some regrets. For a long time there had been an unconscious selfishness connected to my quest for maternal satisfaction. I coveted the lives of others and was jealous of their fortune in the midst of my struggles. But the face of Joy had reminded me that my life was redeemable and that goodness had waited for the right time to find me. I realized there were many ways of loving me; some loud and boisterous, others in echoes and whispers barely audible to the soul. I should have readily accepted them all for the layers of richness that were added to my life.
I continued dissecting my life, looking for avenues for change in light of who I was and what I could become. I had been successful in many aspects as an external being, but my emotional presence exuded weakness. I'd known for a long time that I possessed the strength, I just lacked the courage to stop focusing on what was wrong and direct my heart toward what was right with my life. I had to be more in control of my own life. I had to stop waiting for someone to make me whole. I didn’t need to re-live my grandparent’s or my parent’s lives. My life would be just fine for me. Their example for me had been sound, but it only added ancillary values that were the starting point, not where my life should end. It would be up to me to carve out a pathway that reflected my true identity. My future, not the ghosts of my past, had to become my priority. With eyes forward, I vowed to reconcile my past and use it as pillars of emancipation. That would become my legacy and my gift to the world. We both deserved it.
During my time of reflection, I couldn’t help but think of the man who would always be connected to me for unequal portions of happiness and despair. Ben had given me more than he could ever take away. I had my Joy. She was not a mistake, but trusting Ben was. My relationship with him had materialized too fast. It didn’t have the depth of commitment to remain sustainable. Because we possessed opposing motives, harmony couldn’t exist. I had tried too hard to make the ugly beautiful and acceptable. In the end, it got uglier.
We all get drunk on something and love had been my drink of choice. I became inebriated by desire for something I thought I deserved. I wasn’t sober enough to keep from crossing over the center line of desperation. For the sake of happiness, I had been willing to overlook many red flags that were as subtle as the railroad crossing warning. Even though I only had vision in one eye, I could see things more clearly than ever before. I now had a seat at the motherhood table and was ready to enjoy the full meal. I no longer had to accept crumbs of love when others felt I was worthy. My life had not reflected my upbringing and the choices I made had taken me slightly off course. My path to self-awakening had been filled with potholes and divots. I got stuck in a few that had thrown my life out of alignment, but eventually those ruts became an integral part of who I had become. I was not sure I would have arrived in this place without the culmination of the life events that led me there. I had found my way and it was time for me to experience the type of contentment that had been looking for me. I had earned those morsels of happiness.
I believed I was closer than ever to understanding just how much work goes into being a woman. I thought of how I had been willing to give up my life to preserve that of my child’s and understood the motives of the woman who had made the same agonizing choices for my sake. She had opted to defend my life when I had been incapable of protecting myself. That was the true mark of a woman. Our lives would mean nothing compared to that of our children and we would willingly give it up for them every day of the week and any hour of the day.
This new definition of a woman far exceeded my earlier rendition of facts. Admittedly, I had spent far too many years pretending to be what I now understood I had been incapable of being...a woman. Being a woman was not just biological or numerical, but existed along the entirety of my essence. I wasn't a woman when I was raped, when I first experienced romantic physical love or even last week. My growth had been stunted years ago and I had not been mature enough in my thoughts or actions to claim that title. I had not yet healed that wounded child and had unsuccessfully tried to change myself into my interpretation and ideal of a woman.
The road to womanhood that I had chosen had been reserved for me. My growth would not have been as profound had I not gone through heartaches and setbacks. Without those powerful lessons, I could not have become the woman I discovered that day. I would not have been the best version of me. It would have been unacceptable to exist as someone who was less than the powerful person that inhabited my soul. I would allow my future, in conjunction with my past, to produce the best possible woman I could be. So, who was I now? Had you asked me a day earlier, I would not have known. But that day, I knew exactly who and what I was. I was a daughter, a mother, and yes, I was a woman.
Epilogue
Extra, Extra
The public accounts of Ben’s horrific crime were spoken of often and I avoided any information related to that part of my life. I was forced to read a story about myself, even though I had not known the names of every character. It had been surreal to acknowledge the name associated with the face of that crime was not congruent with my facts.
I was lost in those thoughts when the door to my hospital room opened and a stranger entered the room. It startled me once her introduction was made. Our eyes lingered in observation mode. It was apparent neither of us ever imagined this meeting. Each of us uncomfortably wondered what to do or say next. I felt she was carrying a hidden agenda, but was unclear about what I could do for her.
I briefly looked into her eyes and saw hollowness surrounded by pools of sadness and defeat. Her attempts at cosmetic perfection failed to camouflage her sadness. She was unaware that leftover tear streaks and bloodshot eyes betrayed her exterior mask. I saw a brokenness I recognized from my own struggle with self-preservation. I wondered how long her life played tunes she didn’t want to dance to. Her life could have easily been mine had I continued in a relationship with her husband.
When she spoke, I heard the uncertainty in her voice. In her eyes I saw the internal war and the
shame she felt as she stood in front of me. I represented the truth that could no longer be hidden. She couldn’t lash out at me or express expected words of reckoning. I had something she desired, and that caused her to be less forceful than this situation warranted. She had been encouraged to swallow her dignity for Ben’s indiscretions. She apologized for his actions and begged for the preservation of her family. Her body trembled as her tears raced forward as validation of her pain. Impulsively, I hugged her. I hoped that the decency we both exhibited in that moment would not be forgotten. Maybe in time it would allow our children to connect as siblings. Time would tell.
I earnestly apologized for my inadvertent role in the violation of her family unit. I needed her to understand that we both had been caught up in his web of lies. We cried in each other’s embrace, but for different reasons. Once we regained our composure and our bodies separated, the reason for her visit had to be addressed. It was inconsequential whether or not she understood my decision; it had to be accepted. I chose to move forward with his prosecution. My heart went out to her, but I was not willing to give my power away for someone so undeserving. Maybe it was time for her to take back some of her own power as well. Before she departed, I looked her in the eyes and asked, “How many times has your face looked like mine?” Because I knew I had not been his first victim, I told her, “One time was more than enough for me.” She remained silent. The look in her eyes told me it had been more times than I cared to know.
The End
Acknowledgements
I could not have done any of this without my faith in God, because without it, I am nothing and I have nothing of substance that will last. I am glad that He waited on me to be ready to write this story. I also want to thank my family and friends. This would not have been possible without the love and support of my high-school sweetheart, turned husband, and my favorite son (my only son) who has never beat me at Up Words. Equally important are my parents, siblings and extended family. For my dad and my brother, who are watching from heaven, you guys continue to inspire me. Dad, your initials are the basis for my pen name. You will be a part of everything I write. Your positive influence on my life continues through my stories. I hope that I continue to make you proud.
There were many other people who inspired me along the way. I needed every one of them. Some have no idea how they touched my life. There was the radio host who encouraged me to “Jump”. I am so glad I listened. I had beaten back this story for over three years until I could no longer ignore the words that constantly cycled through my mind. Those words are in the chapter entitled “Evolution”.
There was the powerful speaker and leader who inspired me to “Soar”. He left enough of himself with me that night to help me push forward. I was carrying my authorship dreams with me as I sat in the audience. My wings are flapping, now that I am out of the comfort of my nest.
There was Mr. LG who I rode past many days on I-24 as I traveled to work. He is a great role model for those who need to be reminded that you should do your best work, no matter what the job is. I stopped and met him one day. I’m glad I did.
I have some amazing friends that supported me and read along with me over the two years it took to complete this first book. They kept pushing me forward and telling me to give them more chapters. They read faster than I could write. I want to salute them, but also protect their privacy. For my first fans, based on my description, you will know who you are. Thank you all from the bottom of my heart. The list includes the following people: Dione the Rapper, The History Lover, Brand “D”, The Crazy Checker, Church Lady “C”, The Diminutive Farmer, NuGene’s Brother and Alabama USPAP. Thanks also to Jenna Campbell, who edited the first draft of my work and encouraged me not to be afraid. You gave me some good advice.
Thanks also to my co-workers who were forced to read my long emails. At the time, nobody knew I was secretly sharpening my writing skills. The subject matter in this book is far more interesting than the content of those emails. There is no telling how many books I have written over the years.
Lastly, I would like to honor a friend who is no longer with us. The poem contained in the book is an original work of mine that I dedicated to the loving memory of Calvin L. and Pamela J Phillips. Special thanks to their son, who allowed me share it with others.