Sometimes classic pop song lyrics like “I’m Keeping My Baby” are the perfect fit in telling yet another tale…
They say retrospect is 20/20…and they’re right! I know without a shout of a doubt that I was supposed to marry who I did when I did. I will never deny that it was meant to be, because it simply was. Though, not everything that is “meant to be” goes the way you rightfully expect it to.
Unfortunately, only six months after our wedding day, my husband hit me. There was more than just one hit in the occurrence, but I won’t concentrate on the ugly. He was definitely showing serious signs of becoming that abusive with me within a couple months after we were wed, but I was dismissively hopeful. I say “with me” because until that occasion, which brought out the investigator in me, I had no clue that he had a very abusive track record with his past significant others. Well, as I moved a state away for an unpredictable amount of time, I did what I had to in order to stay close to that precious Spirit I rely so heavily on. As difficult as it was for me to return after hearing from so many loved ones how dumb that was (trust me, I know how illogical it appeared), I did so anyway. I did so on the very day I knew it was time. I did so because something higher than me was letting me know everything was going to work out. I did so without knowing what was actually going to happen.
Well, here is the fatuous cherry on top of the irrational pie…I returned without birth control…
Let me first say, I am not stupid. I was in a relationship in the past where I experienced one hit to the face, did a dumb thing by giving him the second chance he tearfully begged for, and left the short two weeks later it took for him to give me quite the beating. I am of the breed that learns from my own mistakes. I never wanted to be in an abusive relationship, and I especially NEVER wanted to raise a child in an abusive household…ever.
So, why did I go back? Why did I not protect my future posterity from someone with abusive behaviors? It was all based off feelings – not emotions – feelings. You know, like gut feelings. I tell you, I must have a pretty strong gut, because those feelings accompany the most irrational decisions.
Well, I got pregnant right away – I mean right away. I honestly did not think I was going to. There were many things counting against each of us as individuals, and as a couple as far as conception was concerned. That baby was supposed to come down to the two of us at the exact time she did. I will go into those details at another time, but even down to the minute I pushed was written in the stars.
To illustrate why I titled this one I’m Keeping My Baby, there was a time I thought the right thing to do would be to allow others to adopt her into their family…
On the day of our one year anniversary, my husband and I were getting into a loud quarrel. We were driving somewhere and he threatened to “break my (insert choice word) skull” either before or after he acted as if he was going to back hand me. I ran out of the car as soon as it was stopped at a light, and I was gone again.
I knew my baby deserved better. I knew I did too. I knew what I wanted. I wanted a divorce, and I did not want to raise my child without a father. I knew how many couples out there had difficult times conceiving and just wanted to love and raise a child. I wanted to help. But…once again, that was apparently too sensible for the plan the Lord had for me. Oh, how foolish my loved ones thought I was again! I totally understand. I would have told them the exact same things if it was flipped. None the less, I did what I had to do to listen and heed that still small voice again. I will say, it is really difficult to do something you know you’re supposed to when it’s really not something you want to.
Consequently, my child – my little girl – was born. She was healthy, beautiful, smart, and strong. She was perfect, and she was mine. Everything worked out just the way it was supposed to. Her father left a short two weeks after he met her, and I am doing what I previously presumed would be something I never would do. I am raising my daughter without her dad. But, I am not raising that beautiful, smart, strong little girl in an unstable atmosphere, where she may hear yelling, crying, shouting, punching, screaming, and throwing. I am raising her with love. I am raising her, because I am the mother she was meant to have.