Sitting on the end of the blue leather sofa, pregnant; he did not come for the third night. “I cannot do this anymore. I am moving out.”
Pains so bad in her stomach and abdomen area from stress and verbal abuse from him, he smiles and laughs at me. “Where are you going to go? Home? You will never make it there!” It is 8:30 am on a workday.
Many sick days taken due to stress on her and the baby; she is far along in her second trimester, yet he is absent, immersed in his own perplexities of other women, other homes, other arms of comfort.
The lifetime movie words of finding out she was pregnant went something like this, “Is it mine?” She knew then she would be a single parent as she told the lady that was doing the sonogram, “It is with the wrong man.” Weeping for three hours, not able to comprehend how she will survive this, she was elated and confused all at the same time.
She, needing time to get up from the floor, took a bit longer than anticipated, demanding they have this conversation right now. He, being hesitant, yelling at her, decides to take matters into his own hands literally that brisk cold morning on the fourth floor of the building.
He takes the door and slams the front door seven times repeatedly on her lower back area, locks of hair getting caught in his keys as he is pulling them from her hands, she is abused while carrying his child.
Weeping and slouched over, she climbs into bed, calls her doctor as he slams the door. She locks the door behind her and triple locks the front door as well. Cell phone under her pillow, she is terrified, she talks to her baby girl in the womb, “I am so sorry.
We have to leave. This is not safe anymore. She remains Fatherless until this day, never knowing the arms of a Father, the embrace of a man, who brought her into this world; a Mother’s journey of both roles begins that one life-altering day, the brisk day in December, when she, said goodbye forever to an abuser of a Mother and an unborn child.