When I look back, I think the worst of it started after DS was born. I was vulnerable and he took advantage of that.
Instead of having a partner that helped and supported me through my pregnancy and the birth of my son, long nights and breastfeeding, I had a partner very much focused on himself. Who added more stress to a situation that didn't need it.
I do get asked why? Why was I with him and why did I have a baby. Most of you know me to be a pretty smart lady, if I had known that this was how it was going to turn out I would have turned around and run a mile.
I was a hopeless romantic. All I ever wanted was the white picket fence with lots of children and a partner who I trusted and loved, a team!
A lot of the grief I have felt has been over the lose of that dream. My children will never know what it is like to have a family unit with both parents working together. I have never gotten to experience parenthood shared with somebody else. It has always been by myself. Who will I share those memories with as my children grow up, as I am the only keeper of those memories.
This used to make me terribly sad, but not so much these days. My two children are my world, and the three of us are a special little unit. A mix match of surnames and different schedules. We get time together, we get one on one time and we get time apart. It is who we are, the three of us. Along with all the normal guilt and fears as a parent, I do hope that my children will grow up and have healthy relationships. I hope that I haven't damaged them.
Being a first time mum with DD, I think I was highly strung and everything was about the routine. I was frightened and shocked by motherhood. When I had DS I was far more relaxed and just being aware of the challenges like breastfeeding made me so more comfortable with my little man. Despite of all the domestic issues in that first year, I do look back and the good times where being a mum!
Like all the stories I tell, I can never remember what the reason was for how they started, but I do still clearly remember the events that follow.
October 2010
I was lying in bed, with DS, as he slept with me at nights and I nursed him as he demanded through out the night. It was the only way I got any sleep! He walks in and he is yelling at me. What was a peaceful moment feeding my baby is now a hostile one full of anger and accusations. I get up and take DS to change his nappy. As I walk down the hall I am being yelled at. He is standing over me, quite a few inches taller than me. Even as I stand at the change table with the DS he is right up close and yelling. I just want him to leave me alone. I am not even awake enough to comprehend what is happening ...
I finish changing DS nappy, I can't remember clearly but I think when I am finished he takes DS from me. I'm now so angry. Most of the time I try not to get worked up, but in the mornings when your head is fussy its hard not to!!!
I walk past him and stick my finger up at him, not wanting to say what I really feel inside, this silent gesture gives me a little relief. The lounge floor is covered in toys and I trip. I bump into to him. "You hit me" he yells ... WTF? Before I know it he has called his father who arrives ten minutes later telling me I have assaulted his son and that he should call the police and child protection services. I am a fucking mess. I didn't hit him. I retreat to the bedroom with DS and DD. I pick up the phone and I call lifeline. I don't know who else to call and I need help.
They put me through the Woman's Refuge and they suggest I get in the car with the children and come to their office. I do. I go over what has happened as well as tell them generally what life is like in our house. This is probably one of the first times that I realise that what is happening is domestic abuse. I always thought domestic abuse was physical and it's not.
The first thing they do is help me come up with a safety plan, which is pretty simple - call the police. I leave with the after hours number, my safety plan and a better understanding of what I am living with. He has gone away for the weekend so I don't have to see him for a few days.
A week or two later, things have gotten pretty bad. I can't do anything without him demanding to know what I was up to and at times following me in his car as I simply go to the supermarket. Sitting in his car watching and waiting. We have had our fist appointment for court assisted counselling which lasted half a session before the counsellor looked at me, saying he could no longer sit their and condone his abusive behaviour. That he would see me again by myself but was refusing to have anymore to do with him.
A few days later I had a doctors appointment and he wanted me to leave DS at home. I tell him DS is due for a feed so I will take him with me. He hops in my car and refuses to get out. I can't leave. I call the Police and as soon as he realises what I have done he hops out of the car and runs away, literally runs up the drive way like the coward he is. The Police arrive and take some details. This is the first time that I call the Police, to be able to leave my home for a Doctors appointment. I get to the Doctors and I can't stop crying.
I finish at the doctors, who has written in my file the state I was in and why. This was later submitted to court as supporting documentation for my case. I ring the Woman's Refuge and I am given instructions on where to go and what to do next.
I arrive there after picking DD up from school with nothing. No clothes, no money and two children. I would never have dreamt or imagined that this would be the only place I had to go. I couldn't stand it. Don't get me wrong it is an invaluable resource that is desperately needed, I am grateful that it was there for me, but I hated it. I felt uncomfortable with the other women and children and I felt even more isolated than I had. I really had no friends in NZ at the time, as I was newish to the country.
I lasted three weeks in the refuge. Three weeks of lawyers trying to remove him from the house so the kids and I could return. But he wouldn't budge. I gave up (again) and the kids and I moved back to the house. I was worn out and defeated with no support system close to me.
That was the first time I called the Police.
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