In the wonderful world of make believe, I had this notion that the love a mother has for her child is insurmountable. Wouldn�t it have to be? She makes the decision to keep her child and carries it in her body for 9 months, nourishing it. She watches her tummy grow as the baby within her develops from something the size of a grain of rice into a tiny human being. She feels the baby when it kicks, cries, hiccups. She feels it every time it finds a way to play or as it searches for a comfortable position in which to sleep or just simply relax. She hears its heartbeat. As the 9th month approaches, she waits for its arrival with immense anticipation. Suddenly, every hope and fear she has ever imagined, and many she has yet to imagine, fills her head. She�s full of hope, she�s full of doubt, she�s full of fear and she is full of joy. But despite how scared and nervous she is, she knows that the arrival of her new baby is nothing short of a miracle. Babies of some sort have been born since the beginning of time, yet with each new arrival, it is something new and exciting and amazing. All of this has to create some sort of bond between mother and child. Finally, the day comes when her baby will join this world. She will see its tiny face for the first time. Does she look like me? Does she look like her father? She�ll gaze into her baby�s great big eyes and see innocence in its purest form. She will see their future. She will look into those eyes and know that everything will be beyond difficult, but at the end of the day, it will prove to be a worthwhile fight. She will hold her tiny body in her arms for the first time. So much more comfortable than in her belly. She�ll watch as those tiny fingers grasp her own fingers. She�ll watch in amazement as the baby looks around with that beautiful surreal look on her face as she sees life for the first time through her clouded vision. She�ll be brought to tears when she speaks to her tiny bundle of joy and she replies with that look of recognition. She knows you were that voice she heard for the last few months. She takes her brand new pride and joy home. She knows there will be crying and late night feedings. She�s ok with this- for the first week or so. Suddenly, those adorable cries ring in her ears like sirens. Her sleep is more important than the baby�s tummy being full. She�s stressed and no longer loves this child the way a mother should. She becomes distant and even neglectful with this thing that was once a miracle, but now nothing more than hell�s spawn. The baby cries one too many times, and instead of picking it up and cradling it in her arms, she slaps it. The baby screams and the mother becomes outraged and slaps it more. The baby does not understand this lesson, so she continues to scream in defense. The mother gets tired and hobbles back to bed and drifts off to sleep to the sound of her baby�s shuddering cries. This sort of thing continues for the next 3 years. Where there used to be love for this baby, is now a pit of evil and hatred. And because this baby is now a toddler, and slightly bigger than when she was a baby, the mother mistakes this as an invite to create more pain and suffering upon this child. The slaps have turned into backhands and punches. The child is often left to fend for herself while the mother is out partying. She has learned to climb the cabinets in the hopes of finding some stale cereal; It sure beats the fish head she was forced to consume the night before- eyes and all. There wasn�t much meat on it, and her tummy is feeling it. But mother hates crumbs in the bed and lets you know it when, at noon, she awakes to find you eating that cereal in your bed. Now you have to suffer her wrath. What else is new? You cry and repeat you�re sorry. She can�t hear you, or chooses not to. Maybe her rage interferes with her senses? It�s your fault. You knew better, but still took the risk. But what are you to do when your tummy hurts so badly? Don�t bother blocking her blows; it only enrages her more. You�re starting to catch on that when you do something �wrong�, that is when this happens. Just don�t do anything, or at least don�t get caught, and you will be ok, right? That should make her happy enough to at least let you be. You�ve given up on love. When you got that gum stuck in your hair, you were so careful. You were sure she didn�t see you sneak those scissors onto the front porch to cut it out. But you made the mistake of being quiet for too long and she knew you were up to no good. She caught you with scissors cutting your hair the second that door flew open. And as quick as that door swung open, her fist was swinging into your eye. What will everyone think when they see your eye black and blue and swollen shut? No worries; She�s already told everyone that your clumsiness caused your eye to meet the corner of the coffee table. She is so imaginative. She should be, with all that practice. Lately you find yourself staring out that tiny bathroom window above the toilet, hoping beyond hope that your grandparents heard your prayers and are on their way to get you. They heard them before. They heard them and made the trek into the frozen mountains and rescued you. Of course, that safe haven never lasted long because Mother knew where to find you. But the times you were saved, no matter how short-lived, were incredible. When you were with them, you knew you had 3 square meals each day, not to mention all the snacks you could get your chubby little hands on. You had a warm bed to sleep in, right between your grandparents. Funny how 2 bodies can seem like a cushioned wall that blocks out all evil. At night you dream actual dreams, not those bizarre nightmares. Remember how your grandpa would float you on his belly in the pool for hours? You could swim by yourself by the time you were 2. Remember all the friends you were able to have when you were in your sanctuary? Not just the little ones your age, but your aunt�s and uncles� friends treated you like a friend. They made a fuss over you and took you along everywhere. Remember all those hugs and kisses and praises you would get? Pets! You were actually able to have those cute, cuddly creatures to play with, too. Remember the fear that enveloped your entire being when you would see that black van pull up to the house? You knew it was time to go back to that sadistic dungeon, yet you would hide behind your grandpa and plead with him not to make you go. You knew he had no choice. You�d get dragged out the door, tears in your eyes, tears in their eyes. You remember them promising that it won�t be long before you got to come back, and you knew they weren�t lying. They never lied to you. But any time in that God forsaken pit was too much time.
To Be Continued�
My Life brought to you by �Down With the Sickness� by Disturbed
No mommy don't hit me/ Why did you have to hit me like that?/Don't do it! You're hurting me/ Why did you have to be such a bitch?/ Why don't you�/ Why don't you fuck off and die?/ Why can't you just fuck off and die?/ Why can't you just leave here and die?/ Never stick your hand in my face again bitch/ Fuck you/ I don't need this shit/ You stupid, sadistic, abusive fucking whore/ How would you like to see how it feels mommy?