Life's Laundry

The Bouncer, Part 12

When my FIL asked me to model the items for him, I told him no and to get out. That's probably the first time in my life that I remember standing up for myself against someone of authority and saying what I wanted.  There were words exchanged and labels issued but I just said no.

I remained in the bedroom for the rest of the evening until The Bouncer came home and it took him a little while to get me to talk about what had happened.  His parents had left for their weekend away.

I extend a heartfelt appreciation to those who have expressed concern over whether writing all this out or traveling back to these emotional situations is too difficult for me.  I also have to take into consideration that one of my daughters is reading what I am writing.  So I want to take the opportunity to clarify a few things.

I spent over 18 years in therapy to get "ok" with my life, the choices that I've made, the hand that I was dealt.  I am ok with my self.  I learned valuable lessons from the choices, both good and bad, that I made.  While these editions seem to focus on what I did or experienced (or in some cases to come - lost) with The Bouncer - I ultimately choose forgiveness towards him and I do not regret being with The Bouncer. I do not even regret anymore that I stayed with him for those 13 years.  What I do focus on (outside of these stories) is the wonderful awareness that our time together gave me two of the people that I value most in my life.  When those girls were conceived, they were conceived with the expectation that all was right with our relationships and that we loved each other.  Sure, one was unplanned but certainly not unwanted. They still were conceived in love.

Some of the things I have shared have not crossed my mind for many years and it's only been in the looking back and remembering that I have had those memories come to the surface.  I know that I loved The Bouncer beyond words when I married him.  I loved him beyond comprehension as well for I was not mature enough to know what would come ahead of me and how to listen to my own inner voice and value that voice.

The years that I spent with the Bouncer had great days, great sex, much love and much testing of that love.  We each grew up - one of us more than the other.  All throughout the good times and especially the bad, I kept saying that I could just give a little more and make up for the difference in the gap. That plan of action only works when you are not the only one giving.  It didn't take long before the love was not be enough to be what our marriage would weather.

I have already spoken to my daughter about reading this blog. With knowledge comes responsibility and one of those responsibilities is to not let someone else's experience with life tarnish what love and relationship you have with someone. I do not need my children or anyone else for that matter to fight a battle that is long been over.  I know that The Bouncer loves his children - but I have often questioned how he thinks that the ways that he chooses to show it are supposed to communicate that love.  I also know that underneath all of the hate and the abuse that eventually found it's way into our marriage - there is some small shred of human decency left in him. It seems to be buried deeper at times but when I let go of him - the entrapment no longer had any power over me.

So - I'll take a few days off from the next part.  Mostly because I have a full schedule and these events need my full attention. When I feel the words come back up within me, I will continue to write.  I'm not disturbed by reliving these events although I can still feel some of the emotions that I felt during these times in my life.  I certainly am not writing the series to elicit sympathy or present myself in the victim mentality - although some of the stuff that occurred wasn't nice for or to me.  I chose to stay.  I chose to not fight back at first.  I chose to allow some such behaviors that were awful.  Perhaps if I had been raised by a more emotionally healthy mother and father that could have been different but my life is what it is and contains such as it does and I when I look back on my history - I CHOOSE to be grateful for the experiences because the collection of all of those experiences are what makes me who I am today.

It's the who I am today that I am comfortable with.  It's who I love.  It's who I continue to reflect upon in the attitude of enlightenment and improvement. The journey continues....and so will the series.

The Bouncer, Part 11

I had never shopped before with "someone else's dollar" and it was not only exciting but I felt powerful in a way that I had not felt before. The newness to this experience and the purpose for the trip both had me intoxicated with emotions that I had never experienced.  I reasoned in my mind that the FIL was probably embarrassed and apologetic for being so ugly to me when he called me a wench that this probably was his way to make things nice again.  I learned from this situation that there is never a free lunch - someone always pays.  In this case, my FIL paid monetarily and I paid emotionally.

He gave me cash.  I had never held two or three hundred in my hands before and I was giddy with excitement.  With thoughts running through my head and trying to figure out exactly what I would get for myself, I set out to the private lingerie boutique that had been suggested to me by my FIL.    The saleswoman at this private boutique was most helpful.  She was attentive, suggestive to purchases and very professional.   She helped me select a black baby-doll with red lace woven through the edging of the cups.  I remember her showing me how the lace untied and would allow the cup to open for exposure/access to the breast. That was cool, I thought. The front of the panels were fishnet and where free flowing that so that it would accommodate my growing baby bump.  I picked up a pair of black fishnet stockings, a black garter and the FM Pumps that had been suggested to go with any stockings and garter.They were black patent leather and while I hoped that they would trip my husband's trigger, they were just shoes to me.  They weren't practical and because money was so tight, I couldn't understand why someone would spend $50 on a pair of shoes that were only to be worn when I was flat on my back.  I had a lot to learn, didn't I?

When it came time to check out and I dipped into my purse for the money, the saleswoman informed me that the bill had already been taken care of and when I just stood there looking at her, she said, "You can use the cash he gave you for other things for yourself." Do you know that standing there in my being stunned beyond belief - I never thought to ask myself how in the world did she know about my shopping trip, the cash he gave me or anything about me? 

I decided to spend the cash for practical things that I needed like new panties and some bras.  The prgnancy was helping me out in the chest size and the bras that I had  just were not accomodating my growing breast.

The thoughts and fantasies that were speeding through my brain while driving home from that shopping trip had me giddy with expectations. Thinking about sex all day is enough to make anyone ready and willing but when you factor in second trimester pregnancy hormones - that makes for an 'over the edge' mix of nothing but pure lust and sexual greed. I intended to have my share of what I wanted. I was going to surprise my honey with the outfit because as far as I understood, he was not aware that I had been treated to this little shopping excursion.  The thoughts of my FIL never entered my mind.  The B&B were supposed to be out of town for the weekend and my husband and I would have the entire house to ourselves.  That meant there wouldn't be any restrictions or limitations on how, when, where, or how often. The realization that I might be able to finally "get enough" made me short of breath (among other things) as I turned into the driveway.

I gathered my packages from the backseat and headed for the house. Once inside, I walked straight through the house to the tiny back bedroom where The Bouncer and I had been sleeping for the past few weeks. I paid careful attention as I sorted everything out on the bed.  I remember the feelings of excitement and anticipation that I felt as I ceremoniously organized those lacy items on the bed.  I couldn't wait to prepare myself for The Bouncer's arrival.  I was formulating all the plans when I heard a voice at the door.

"Did you find something that you liked?" I heard the unexpected voice of my FIL as I whipped around to face him.

"You scared the crap out of me!  How long have you been standing there?" I asked.  I know he could hear the surprise and possible fear in my voice.  Where the hell had he come from?  I hadn't seen his car in the driveway when I got home.

"Long enough to enjoy watching you.  What did you get?" he asked.

I'm cloudy on what happened next and in what sequence but I think that I pushed all the things against the pillows at the head of the bed to move them away from him. I may have said something to the effect of "just some stuff." I felt slimy all of a sudden but since I wasn't skilled or had ever been permitted to take head to that little voice - I didn't pay attention to the uh-oh feeling and just stood there.  He stepped forward and reached for the shoe box that held the black patent leather stiletto pumps.  I watched in horror (this I do remember) as he carefully lifted teh cover and picked each of them up as if he were examining a million dollar artifact or piece of jewelry and turned them over and around and ran his hand across the arch of the shoe.  Then he looked and me and said as plain as day, "Will you model it for me?"

The Bouncer, Part 10

The new year started and I started back to school.  Those first few weeks were wonderful.  I was a happily married young woman who stayed on top of all her school work and felt like she was on top of the world.  I was doing GREAT in school and hoped that the morning sickness would soon be getting better. We might have made love as often as we wanted and where we wanted but I really do not remember much about those first few weeks of being married. That's sad because that was probably our happiest times and I can't even recall it.  

I was so sure that this was all going to work and my parents had been so mistaken to warn me off marrying The Bouncer. I was determined to show them that they had been wrong and that I had made a good choice for the father of my child(ren) and my husband. Sometime before the end of January, for reasons that I wasn't sure of at the time, we lost our lease to the apartment and The Bouncer announced that we were going to be moving in with his parents for a few weeks until we could get another place.  I was so much in love and wanted to believe that he was my knight in shining armor that I never questioned anything.  Those choices would bring many different unpleasant consequences and set a precedence that was not nurturing to me personally or emotionally.

I remember standing in our apartment while being instructed to pack as quick as I could.  I felt betrayed but wasn't willing to admit it because in my mind, loving someone meant trusting them and trusting meant not questioning.  This was so sick now that I look back but I bought the whole thing hook, line, and sinker.  Even though, I kept thinking that this wasn't turning out like it was supposed to be. Not only did I not learn to listen to that small voice but I learned to silence her.  What a shame. We packed the boxes into his father's pick up truck and I watched as he closed the door to what was supposed to be the place we were going to make into our home and where we would bring our newborn home to.

Living with his parents proved to be more challenging than informing my parents that I was pregnant and we were getting married.  Being young and pregnant and in the middle of a house that is emotionally defunct does not make for a good mix.  I wanted to be happy, I wanted to feel wonderful being pregnant and awaiting the birth of a baby that I so wanted.  I can recall going back and forth to school talking to my baby that was growing inside me...I played all kinds of music for him, I sang to him, I talked about how much I loved his daddy (despite what others were saying) and I grew closer and closer to him every. single. day.  This was my "escape" away from the hellhole that I was living in.  I had never been exposed to hollering or such openly displayed anger or verbal abuse as this house seemed to thrive upon.  My mother's way of dealing with something was to cry for days and be the victim and my father's way of dealing with his anger was to walk away and sulk in silence for a few days.  I really can't remember a time in my life where I heard my parents in a shouting match.  That doesn't mean they didn't do it - it just means that we weren't exposed to it.  We also weren't exposed to healthy examples of ways to work things out with someone that we loved.  I lived in a constant state of arousal (not the sexual kind) but the fight or flight kind living in that house.  It had such negative energy and I kept hoping to just keep my head low and not cause a disturbance.

I don't remember the circumstances surrounding the incidence but I do remember it being sometime after the first of the year when my FIL openly called me a "wench" in front of several other people in the room.  He made references to my round breast and the fullness of my growing belly.  He said the I reminded him of a wench "who was good for nothing but fucking her master." I remember my head swimming and wondering if I had heard him right.  No one spoke.  He went right on and kept speaking as if his most recent words were similar to that of telling someone to grab a beer from the fridge and make themselves at home. I recall the room with its dark wood paneling, orange bicentennial furniture and massive wall unit where the TV and other grossly ugly knickknacks lived.  I was immediately reduced to tears and my husband, who I believed would protect and love me, stood right there and didn't say a word.  Not one word.  I couldn't understand why he wouldn't defend me.  More so, I couldn't understand why a man would say that about the wife of his son.  I was going to have his grandchild and he was supposed to be nice to me.  That sounds so naive to look at that sentence now. I was so unprepared for the life and dynamics of that disturbed family. Families just don't treat others like that.  I cried for the rest of the evening and refused to come out of that tiny back bedroom in that tiny horrible house.  They all laughed at me and called me "too sensitive" and wanted to laugh it all off to me being hormonal and pregnant.  A few days later when I asked The Bouncer about why he let his father talk to me like that, he laughed and dismissed it as a joke. He wanted to know why I was holding on to that and still pouting about it. I felt the hole in my heart grow bigger. 

The thing about that hole is that when the sides of that hole began to collapse, it took with it the remnants of clinging bricks and supports whose mortar had already been dissolved.  So, it wasn't just the construction demolition of that single incident but it was the failure of structures that had already been weakened by secrets and realizations that would set out to destroy my spirit. That hole was just the beginning of 22 years of demolition. They say that the first cut is the deepest and whoever they is...they are right.

Because I wasn't ready or willing to face the reality staring me square in the face, I had to seek refuge and solace somewhere.  I found it in my growing baby. I loved going to the OB visits.  I was the center of attention there and looking back, realize that I was so totally clueless as to what was happening. I was so being groomed to be the most cooperative patient that this OB ever had.  I was a self pay, without any insurance, yet every visit would bring another test to make sure the baby was ok.  It was only after the birth that I realized how very poor of a choice I had made based on a simple recommendation and no investigation or base of knowledge when choosing someone to help me become a mother for the first time.

Every day I grew closer and closer to my unborn baby.  I experienced all those feelings of emotions that women experience - wanting a son to present to my husband thinking that it would solidify feelings of commitment and adoration for giving him what he so wanted.  I was constantly reminded that I wasn't really welcome in that home with his parents and let me tell you - living in an 800 sq. ft home with only one toilet and 4 adults - with one being a pregnant women - and a 5 year old little boy (another long story) isn't fun.  I was still naive enough to think that everything would work out.

I tried to laugh and move beyond how miserable I was in that home.  I kept asking when we were going to be able to move out into our own place.  The Bouncer kept telling me that he "was saving" money so we could get something really nice for us and our baby. I'm almost embarrassed to admit that I had no idea what kind of income he had from his job or what he was doing with his money.  Learning the truth many years later would prove destructive to my soul and risk what mental solidity that I ever possessed.

I chose to focus on school and how wonderful I felt being pregnant now that the morning sickness had gone.  The second trimester brought a sex drive for me that could not be satiated.  I practically begged for physical affection and sometimes he would respond and oftimes he wouldn't.  I learned quickly that the way to his erection was through lingerie.  That was the only way that he would pay attention to me. So, doing what any good wife would do who wants to please her husband, I found a way to make him happy. I found a way to get what I wanted.  Try being broke with no personal spending money of your own and trying to figure out how to purchase lingerie that you know nothing about and using it in a way that you don't have a clue doing. I was prime and ripe for the picking.

Sometime after Easter that spring, my belly was really beautiful and sort of getting in the way.  I was still going to school and trying to stay clear of The FIL.  I was desperate for physical affection and I don't know how he sensed what was going on - but he asked me one day if he could treat me to "a shopping trip" for some "things to please my husband and keep the spark in our marriage."  I realize today that I led such a sheltered life and I didn't see what was coming.  I feel so foolish when I think back to how manipulative that Bastard was in the way that he treated me with such disrespect.  He continues to this day to be one of the sickest fucked up people that ever walked the face of the earth.

Yes, I took him up on his offer....because I didn't know what he had in mind.

The Bouncer, Part 9

I opened the lid to the beautiful bridal package to find a very elegant pair of white shiny silk stockings and a white lacy garter belt attached to a pink/white corset covered with lace.  I had never touched anything like that in my life.  It was beautiful sure, but I had not ever learned to appreciate finer lingerie like that. The lace was exquisite but I certainly didn't know how to get those damn garters hooked on those stockings.  I was trying to figure out how in the world I was going to make this work without disappointing him. He told me that I could go in the bathroom and get dressed and then come out when I was ready where he would be waiting for me.  I must have stayed in that bathroom 15 minutes trying to figure those damn garter hooks out and how to hook the 50 hooks on the corset with not much luck. He was getting worried impatient because he finally asked if I was ok.  I spoke through the door and felt myself start to cry.  He finally asked me what was wrong and I confessed that I couldn't make it all work.

He opened the door, gently took my hand that held those beautiful bridal garments and pulled me forward towards the bed. 

I began to cry because I was so embarrassed that I couldn't do what I thought he wanted. This was our wedding night and while he wasn't waiting to deflower me and help himself to my virginity, I did want this night to be what fairy tales were made of. He dressed me in those pieces almost with his eyes closed.  His hands were so gentle and arousing and I recall how erotic his tender actions and touches made me feel.  Part of me felt uneasy though and I brushed it off to not ever having worn something like that. I figured I might as well get used to new things and trying to do what would make him happy - and he certainly  was happy when I was wearing those gifts.  He had never made love to me like he did that night.  Looking back, I realize it was a raw, animalistic kind of ravaging. The way he ran his hands across the silk and the lace and twisted the elastic of the garter beween his fingers and the way that he dig his teeth into my neck were erotic and arousing all at the same time that they were a bit alarming.  I dismissed it as him just being so excited that I was finally his wife.  I wanted it to be about how much desire he had for me and how much he wanted me.  I didn't want it to be about that little voice deep within me that said, "hey...what is it that your gutt is telling you?" I eventually begged him to stop because I couldn't take any more.  I rdecided that I had discovered his passion and how much he enjoyed lacy things. I would use that to try and make him happy.

Sleep came easy and I awoke the next morning to the touch of his hands tracing the lace along the edge of the part of my breast that was spilling out.  We might have made love again but what I remember most about that morning was waking up to him and then the breakfast..... OMG, it was the most delicious room service breakfast.  I was still wearing the stockings along with the garter and corset and I remember him sitting there watching me feast on scrambled eggs, whole wheat toast and fresh berries and cantaloupe.  I remember those tiny jars of one serving, black labeled Dickinson's preserves and how good they tasted on that warm lightly toasted bread.  He kept saying that he couldn't keep his eyes off of me and that he'd like to have me for breakfast and I was thinking to myself that I was just going to have to get used to wearing "that kind of stuff" if it made him happy because that was my new role - to make him happy. 

The days turned to weeks and we celebrated our first Christmas together.  Both our families were seeming to calm down a bit and I was beginning to form a baby bump.  I felt my baby move at about 15 or 16 weeks.  I remember we were at his friend's house where our baby was most likely conceived and I felt a flutter.  I wasn't sure that was what it was and then I felt it again.  I knew it and it made my soul sing.  It was from that day on that I became emotionally tied to that baby inside of me and spoke to it and sang to it and loved it more deeply every single day. I finally had something to love, made in love that would love me in return.  I was going to be the mother that my mother had never been to me.

The new year started and I started back to school.  Those first few weeks were wonderful.  I was a happily married young woman who stayed on top of all her school work and felt like she was on top of the world.  We probably made love as often as we wanted and where we wanted. I was so sure that this was all going to work and my parents had been so mistaken to warn me off marrying The Bouncer. Sometime before the end of January, for reasons that I wasn't sure of at the time, we lost our lease to the apartment and The Bouncer announced that we were going to be moving in with his parents for a few weeks until we could get another place.  I was so much in love and wanted to believe that he was my knight in shining armor that I never questioned anything.  Those choices would bring many different unpleasant consequences and set a precedence that was not nurturing to me personally or emotionally.

I remember standing in our apartment while being instructed to pack as quick as I could.  This wasn't turning out like it was supposed to be. We packed the boxes into his father's pick up truck and I watched as he closed the door to what was supposed to be the place we were going to make into our home and where we would bring our newborn home to.

The Bouncer, Part 8

I can close my eyes right now and feel her touching my hand and saying to me, "Don't ever forget the love that you feel for him this very minute.  There will be days when you will have to dig deep to bring it to the surface and you'll need to bring it forward to survive tough days ahead.  Don't ever forget what you feel this very day." 

And then she dropped my hand, dabbed both our tears, kissed me on the cheek and closed the door as she left the room.

The ceremony went off without a hitch.  I had to stifle a laugh out loud when The Bouncer leaned forward to kiss me and the Pastor whispered, "Put some tongue in it." This, obviously, was not your typical  Pastor but it helped to lighten the air and make for some memorable laughs.

The reception was very nice - that's about all I can say for it.  I recall the faces of some of the people there who are no longer with me and that brings forth feelings of longing. Because we were in a Lutheran church, alcohol wasn't frowned upon so we had an open bar/cooler out of the back porch of the parsonage about 50 feet away from the reception hall.  If there was anyone who didn't have a good time - it was no fault of mine and The Bouncer.  The day was a joyful one for me and I was filled to the brim with love and expectation for my future as Mrs. Bouncer.  I was going to live happily ever after.

His friends did one big number on our car.  He drove a gray something with a sun roof and they put Vaseline all over the door handles, birdseed on everything that would stick and put cherries under the hood.  I think they wrote some absurdity on the windows about getting some tonight and I remember thinking how childish they were. I watched all of the decorative efforts from the window inside the church were I was changing into a beautiful blue dress that I had found and fallen in love with.

There must have been 15 pounds of birdseed inside that car and when we tried to go through the car wash at the Sugar Refinery (the one where there was an explosion this past February across the street from where the B&B live) the seed plugged the rain vents and all that water started pouring inside the car all over my lap and brand new honeymoon dress.  We couldn't stop laughing at how funny it was and decided to stop at his parent's house across the street and leave them a surprise.  I just stood in silence as my new husband pulled back the sheets to his parent's bed and sprinkled birdseed between the flat and fitted sheets.  I don't know what I was thinking then but it all seems so childish and immature now. When we dumped the remaining seed out of our clothes, we did so standing in the middle of their kitchen floor and while I was in the bathroom making more room for my growing uterus, he formed the letters, "We love you" with the seed on the kitchen floor.  We would later learn this his grandmother (mother's mother) was the one to sleep in their bed that night and started fussing at his mother for having "rust" on the sheets where she was going to sleep.  We laughed about that for years but they didn't think it was so funny.

Because we were short on funds, we opted to go across the state line to Hilton Head Island for our  honeymoon. I don't remember if we stayed one night or two but I do remember that very first night and how new and enlightening it was for me.  I knew how much The Bouncer was a "lingerie man" but until our honeymoon and the events of years later, I didn't understand to what degree or obsession.  When we walked into our room and were kind of just relaxing - I fell asleep.  He assured me when I awoke 2 hours later that he wasn't insulted cause he knew that I needed some rest and since I was now awake, he wanted to share his "gift" with me.  I was so excited because I loved gifts and was curious as to what he had been hinting about most of the afternoon.  He presented me with a large rectangle box about 4 inches deep and 10 inches by 14 inches long.  The paper was a pink paisley and it was tied with a silk pink ribbon and two silver fake plastic wedding rings (the kind that top a package).  I wasn't sure what to think and I probably apologized for not having him one because he said to me that "I was going to be his gift and he was going to unwrap me."

I opened the lid to the box to find a very elegant pair of white silk stockings and a white lacy garter belt attached to a pink/white corset.  I had never touched anything like that in my life.  It was beautiful sure, but I had not ever learned to appreciate finer lingerie like that. The lace was exquisite but I certainly didn't know how to get those damn garters hooked on those stockings.  I was trying to figure out how in the world I was going to make this work without disappointing him because he told me that I could go in the bathroom and get dressed and then come out when I was ready cause he would be waiting for me.  I must have stayed in that bathroom 15 minutes trying to figure those damn garter hooks out and how to hook the 50 hooks on the corset with not much luck. He was getting worried impatient because he finally asked if I was ok.  I spoke through the door and felt myself start to cry.  He finally asked me what was wrong and I confessed that I couldn't make it all work.

He opened the door, gently took my hand that held those beautiful bridal garments and pulled me forward towards the bed. 

The Bouncer, Part 7

I remember when finals were over and I stood there in the empty dorm room that the room mate and I had shared.  I was attentive and mindful to the rush of emotions of the previous few years playing out in my head and how I had actually arrived at this moment. I knew my life would change; it already had.  I was planning to come right back in January for the next quarter.  I would just be commuting to campus from our apartment in Savannah. 

I remember silently asking God to protect me in whatever was coming.  I just didn't know how important that prayer would become or how often I would pray those words.

I gently closed the door of that dorm room and left for the final time.

His parents had a rather large family that flew and drove in for the wedding from different parts of the country - mostly Naples, Florida, Boston, and Louisiana.  I instantly loved his uncle from Louisiana.  I can still remember so vividly him calling me over to the side, wrapping his big strong arms around me and telling me, "Don't you let this group roll over your or intimidate you.  You stand up to them.  They're a bunch of fucking nuts but their love and family loyalty runs deep and now you are a part of that.  Learn to stand up for yourself, honey. And if you need anything, you call your Uncle E." That was the only acknowledgment or welcome that I ever received into that family and I clung to it like a toddler's security blanket.  Uncle E died last year and when I learned of his death, I sat in the floor sobbing for the loss of so much of a man that I dearly loved and who, in my quiet time of need, had reached out to me and propped me up.  I believe that he is the only one of that family who understood the capacity of an emotionally healthy kind of love. The next few years would peel back layers of discovery something similar to a bitter onion where that family is concerned and through it all, I continued to value Uncle E.

The wedding rehearsal was a collection of memories for the record book.  The pastor was sleeping with my roommate and she had every expectation that once he divorced his estranged wife, that they would be married just like me and The Bouncer - except with out the pregnancy - cause she never wanted kids.  He was trying to keep everything light and humorous because of the cloud of stress in the air. It is interesting in bringing all these memories back up to the surface that I haven't been able to recall one thing that involved my late sister or younger sister.  I know they were there because they are in the pictures but I don't recall any situations or stories that involved them. Hmm.

The rehearsal dinner was lovely - no kidding.  The Bouncer's mother and father, who I used to refer to as B&B (bitch and bastard), really outdid themselves.  Their entire out of town family clan was included and I was having a great time.  There must have been over 50 people there if you count the 10 from our family and the wedding party. The food was fabulous and the evening seemed to lighten up with the open bar (not me) and our father's were actually talking and being cordial.

I can't remember where I slept that night.  I just remember being in the parsonage the next day fixing my makeup in front of the mirror in the back bathroom.  I remember looking in that mirror and seeing my reflection and wondering if I was making the right choice.  The previous week, The Bouncer had been let go from his UPS Management position. It wasn't until 10 years later that I learned it was for falsifying a document for an overnight shipment at the airport.  He wasn't without a J-O-B because his father was able to get him a position where he worked almost immediately.  In hindsight, I should have been asking better questions and really paying attention to the answers but I was so caught up in the notion of everything before me that I was unable to see the forest for the trees.

My mornings would be reserved for acute vomiting and then by lunchtime, I'd feel like a million bucks.  I was going to be Mrs. Bouncer in a few days and I was under the delusion that my life was going to be filled with The Bouncer drinking my bath water (as he like to tell everyone that was how much he loved me) and making great grades in school while playing house and growing a baby and preparing to be a mommy.

Standing in that bathroom, I recall the wife of my mother's brother standing there looking at me and tears streaming down her face.  I hadn't the foggiest idea why she was so emotional.  She had the perfect life (or so it seemed) with a young daughter and son, a husband who made lots of money and a beautiful home exceptionally decorated to the hilt..... years later I was able to realize just how empty her spirit was when she shared with me that she had been so emotional because my life held so much promise of young love and hers was so empty.  She was grieving for what she wanted but what she no longer held.  I can close my eyes right now and feel her touching my hand and saying to me, "Don't ever forget the love that you feel for him this very minute.  There will be days when you will have to dig deep to bring it to the surface and you'll need to bring it forward to survive tough days ahead.  Don't ever forget what you feel this very day." 

And then she dropped my hand, dabbed both our tears, kissed me on the cheek and closed the door as she left the room.

The Bouncer, Part 6

Revisiting these emotions and memories has been scary for me.  Thinking back to how much I loved the Bouncer and then realizing that I already know the ending to the story has brought me to tears many a times.  Having these words flow out of me into the screen for anyone (even though the audience is not that large) to read has caused me pause.  Remembering and reliving these events makes one raw all over again like a scar that has healed on the surface and then gets busted open. Even though it has healed - its still a tender scar once opened.

After the meeting in my paren'ts kitchen where we announced that we were going to get married, the next few days were tenacious.  My mother played the part of the grieving, wounded mother of the bride and my father went about his life in his silent, seething anger.  I didn't understand then how hurt they were - not only because of the pregnancy, but because they already fully understood the implications of the reality before me as well as the losses and concessions that were going to come upon me. I also know now that they feared what The Bouncer was really like underneath his profession of undying love for me and our baby.  It's only now as a parentt of two older daughters that I have a more clear understanding of how parents view their children's future and how much hope and expectation is wrapped up in those dreams.  The hopes that they held for my education and my future died that day in the kitchen.  My parent's behavior is understandable but was undeniably damaging to me.  I wished for so long that they had found a way to express their anger without withholding their love from me and having their actions be punitive.  The main focus was to make sure that I experienced consequences because I seemed to have invited them upon myself by getting involved and becoming pregnant.  They made assumptions about me without ever asking for clarification. They never made sure that I understood that their love for me never changed.  Perhaps their love for me had changed?  I felt so alone and against them. They couldn't identify that this was what was happening and its only in hindsight and life experiences (and 10 years of therapy) that I've been able to recognize what happened that day. It was wrong but I know what happened and why.  Those next few weeks were lessons in tolerance and living out the words that I can still hear coming my grandmother's mouth, "You made your bed, now lay in it."

I have caught myself getting trapped in the fear that my older daughters don't have an understanding about my feelings for them.  I have tried not to repeat the choices and mistakes that my parents made with me.  I have tried to love them differently based on years of therapy and choices.  Do I parent my kids right?  Am I a failure as their mother?  Do they think that I just gave up?  Do they fully comprehend that I would go to the ends of the earth and back for them? I'm sure they might agree between themselves that there have been times when I have failed miserably - I worry alot that I have failed them miserably - but I'm doing just what my mother and father did - the best I can at the time with what I have to work with.

The next fews weeks were filled with activity and adjustments. We set a wedding date for the end of November because that coordinated with the end of the quarter at school and I could finish out my duties and responsibilities as Resident Assistant.  Once the word got out that I was pregnant and we got into planning a wedding and me continuing on with my schoolwork, the stress seemed to lighten.  I was still dealing with pockets of problems here and there. For weeks, I had been burdened with unrelenting morning sickness.  It wasn't uncommon for me to roll over upon waking and vomit into a bucket that I kept by the bed. My poor roommate got so used to it that she could eat her pnut butter and jelly sandwich for breakfast each morning without being phased that I was on the other side of the room being sick. I'd ride down the road holding a cup that I often used.  That was one of the unpleasantries of early pregnancy.

I was given a budget of only $500 for the entire wedding.  My mother's friends and first cousins offered to do the food for the reception and it was clear to me that I had no say in the decisions.  My soon to be mother in law made a huge stink about the invitations (which my parents didn't want to pay for) and when told that we weren't going to have invitations, proceeded to go and order what she wanted and send them out to all her friends.  She didn't include my parent's names on the invitation.  That was the first of her retaliations. The positive thing about her renegade behavior is that we received dozens upon dozens of wonderful wedding gifts from those people who received invitations.  There was one shower.  It was from my mother's first cousins (there were about 50 of them).  I remember being instructed to not talk about the pregnancy and so I didn't. That was the recurring theme of those weeks. I borrowed a wedding dress from one of my grandmother's neighbors - and it was beautiful.  We chose a local florist.  I was able to choose what I wanted I think because when we went to pick them out, the florist said, "We let the bride choose, not the family.  This is her wedding, not everyone elses."  She had no idea how liberating that was to me. She also had no idea of the circumstances surrounding the wedding.

I remember when finals were over and I stood in the empty dorm room that the room mate and I had shared.  I was attentive and mindful to the rush of emotions of the previous few years playing out in my head and how I had actually arrived at this moment. I knew my life would change; it already had.  I was planning to come right back in January for the next quarter.  I would just be commuting to campus from our apartment in Savannah.  I remember silently asking God to protect me in whatever was coming.  I just didn't know how important that prayer would become or how often I would pray those words.

I gently closed the door of that dorm room and left for the final time.

The Bouncer, Part 5

I opened the exterior door to the dorm and out of habit, looked inside the hall. There, in front of my dorm room door, about 30 feet down the hall, sat the bouncer with his head back against the wall.  His hands were clasped together and his knees drawn up to his chest. He was just sitting there.  When I saw him before he saw me, I knew right then that I loved him and we would get married. That's what I wanted.  I just needed the space and freedom to choose that.  And now I had.

I heard the door close behind me and so did he.

It seems my entire life has been a series of doors that close and prepare the way for the ones that open.  It's only in maturity and life experience that we learn that those openings and closings are part of the circle of life.  When we are young and have our whole lives before us, we can't really understand how it all fits together, can we?  How in the world would I ever have been able to learn that lesson from someone trying to tell me while growing up?  I've been spending a significant amount of time these past 2 weeks thinking about the various phases of my life and those doors.  The hinges have had their share of workouts, that for certain.  There hasn't been one time in my life - not once - where there wasn't another door waiting ahead of me to open.....or at least for me to explore and try the knob.  Some I have passed by with regret, some without.  Others I have tried and opted to keep closed and others have I flung wide open to feel the fresh air and taste the scenery.

When I saw The Bouncer sitting there in that hallway, I knew the choice I was going to make.  I didn't fully understand how it would all fall together but the one thing that I did know is that I wanted whatever was inside of me from that moment on.  I was connected to it - regardless if I was with The Bouncer or not.  I wanted to have that baby.

He looked up and the expression of relief on his face betrayed any emotion that he was hiding.  He jumped up and came towards me with arms outstretched.  There was no awkwardness or embarrassment - only true affection and joy to be in each other's hugs.  I unlocked the door to my room and we sat right there on the foot of that single bed.  After we went through the formalities of him wanting to know why I wouldn't answer the phone and him not being able to wait because it was just too important - we got down to me sharing the events of the past 24 hours.  He held me tight while I recounted the bad dream at the clinic pro-life blackmail center.  I shared how I sat in the parking lot for hours and how I had the answers right in me the whole time, I just needed to give them space to come to the surface so I could see them.

We decided to move the wedding up.  We knew that telling both of our parents would be troublesome at best.  His father and my father had lots of water under the bridge and held little respect for each other.  They worked together long ago and had lots of friction between them.  I remember us joking about this being a "Hatfield & McCoy situation but we knew what we felt and were moving forward.  We guessed that we could plan a wedding within 8 weeks and realized that the dreams of a large, elaborate wedding would probably be lost to the necessity to be married sooner. I knew that there were going to be casualties of dreams and expectations and I figured that I'd take it one step at a time.

A few days later on Friday evening, we both sat holding hands at the kitchen table of my parents.  I remember The Bouncer saying to my parents that we wanted to get married and I remember my father saying, "Why?  Are you pregnant?" and The Bouncer looked my father straight in the eye and said, "Yes, she is."

I don't remember the exact words that were exchanged but it wasn't pretty.  I felt betrayed and rejected by my parents.  Having two decades behind me of parenting, I know that their embarrassment took over because my mother was an expert at discussing other young women's indiscretions and mistakes and now it was going to be her turn to be the topic of those discussions.  That didn't set well with her.  I'm certain there were some accusations about being irresponsible and thinking with a dick and not a brain but I knew that we had been careful and I didn't even try to defend myself.  It was useless.  The bouncer plainly and calmly said, "We'd like to get married and have everyone participate and be happy about it or if not, we'll just do it ourselves."

My mother just sat there crying - the poor, pitiful victim that she was.  She demanded that I explain why I was doing this to her...why I was ruining not only my life but hers as well.  Oh, the drama.  When The bouncer said it didn't have anything to do with that and that we had already planned to get married - we were just moving the wedding date up....

That pissed my parents off and my dad got up and the door slammed on his way out.

The Bouncer and I stood up and he said, "It's a lot to digest.  I know.  I want you to know that I love your daughter and we will make this work. I hope you'll support us."

Then we both got up, walked through the door that we gently closed behind us and got in the car and drove away.

The Bouncer, Part 4

I walked as fast as I could to the car, got in, locked the door, put the gear in reverse and left that horrible place of terror and blackmail disguised as a pregnancy counseling and support center.  I stopped a few blocks away in the supermarket parking lot and chose a space near the outer edge. I had already had my fill of being in the middle of the action.  I wanted the very edge of what was happening. I sat there for what seemed like an eternity. I didn't cry but tears did fall on my chest. I watched cars and trucks come and go.  I felt the time ticking away and thought of the classes that I had skipped that day and what I must have missed by not being there. I thought of the fact that no one had any clue to where I was at that very moment and there were only 3 or 4 people in the world that knew I was pregnant and that I could just disappear and it would just be a bump in the timelife of life.  I had a conversation with myself about how I could have been so dumb and not recognized what kind of place it was in advance and prevented myself from ever having had to experience that kind of nuttiness.  But if I were so skilled at prevention, might I not have ever been in the situation like I was?

What was I going to do?

I loved the bouncer as far as my capacity to understand love went. I did believe that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him. I just didn't want to start it out like this.  I recounted the events of the past 12 hours and how dramatically my life had changed by one fact.  I was not the same person as I was 24 hours ago.  Confusion surrounded me and I sought clarity so desperately within the walls of my brain. I continued to sit there exploring options within my head - even without the information that I so strongly desired to be part of that equation.

The afternoon turned late and I found myself still sitting in the parking lot. Alone. I realized that hours had passed and that I still hadn't eaten.  I drove two blocks to the Checkers and ordered a burger and iced tea.  I took two bites and felt sick so I left the remaining in the wrapper and drank the tea while I ran the events of the day through my head one last time.  I decided that I would sleep on the glaring fact that I was pregnant and revisit this whole mess in the morning.  I felt exhausted and I thought sleep would probably come easy.

It was 7:55 when I walked into the dorm room.  I remember the time because my roommate (the girlfriend) was pacing back and forth. When she heard the key in the door, she came over and was wrapping her arms around me proclaiming her joy that I had returned because in another five minutes, she was going to call campus police.

"Why are you so worried?" I asked.  I felt numb and really didn't want to engage with another person.

"The Bouncer called.  He told me that you are pregnant and what happened at the apartment.  He's been calling here every 15 minutes since lunch time.  He's worried sick about you and that you're going to do something stupid.  I'm just glad that you are here and ok," she finished off her tangled outburst.

"I want to go to bed and talk about this tomorrow," was all I said.  She sensed the finality of my words and didn't press.  I stripped off my clothes and put on my nightshirt.  I realized that my breast were more sore now than they've ever been and it was yet another reminder of the events and reality of the day. I felt my abdomen and pelvic region as if to reconcile the reality that there was something in there.  As my head hit the pillow of that single bed with soft sheets, I heard my roommate pick up the phone and dial. The tones echoed around that small dorm room like a swirling tornado cradled in deafening silence.  That's what I felt caught up in - the winds of a tornado with nothing to hold tight to. It was like I was watching the entire world and it's belongings and entrapments and dreams fly by me faster than I could mentally or physically grasp them.  At some point soon thereafter, I fell into a very deep, exhausted, sleep.

When I awoke the next morning, the hangover loomed all over the room in an oppressive air.  You've probably experienced that bad dream hangover where you hope that the sleep has erased everything bad that happened the previous day but the moment you open your eyes, you realize that it's all still there and no amount of sleep is going to erase those events or change the reality of that very moment. I didn't dare want to move for fear of it all crashing down on me again.  There was a note on my desk mirror that read, 'Everything's going to be ok.  PLEASE call the bouncer.  He loves you and he's going crazy not being with you. Please call him."

Something had changed within me.  I realized it right then. I wanted what ever was inside me.  It wasn't because I was afraid of what God would do - that's not how I ever saw God.  I didn't understand why - I just knew that whatever my choices were, it was going to involve having a baby. I knew what.  I now was charged with the task of figuring out how.  I sensed that it wasn't going to be a solo job but that was as far as I had figured things out. I felt a mental clarity of confidence.  Perhaps it was denial but knowing now what I know about  myself - I know that I was clear after that night's sleep.  I didn't feel the desperation that I had felt just hours before.  The answers had found their way to me while I slept. My whole life has been like that...be still and the sorting will come upon me.  I told myself that this day, I would go to class, get caught up on what I missed and then in the afternoon I would think more about what I might want to do.

The ringing of that touch tone phone startled me into a jolt. My heart was racing as I glanced at the clock. It was only 8:10 am.  I didn't answer and it switched to the answering machine.  I knew the voice that I was going to hear and it was no surprise when I heard those familiar words of the bouncer, "Please pick up the phone.  Please pick up.  I know you are there. I love you.  I know you said three days but I can't do it.  Please call me."

I had a 9 o'clock class on that day and I needed to get moving.  I showered, dressed and left the dorm for the hike across campus.  I felt alive and dead all at the same time.  The experience was surreal and certainly something that words really can't articulate adequately.  The reality was like a heavy weight upon me but not one of a burden. The burden was yesterday.  Today I was just faced with the reality and choices. Choices and the nausea.

Classes were a blur pretty much and when I returned to the dorm I slept again for several hours.  The roommate had come and gone. There were 10 or so messages on the machine.  I knew who they would be from and hit the erase button without listening to them.  Reflecting on that after all these years makes me realize that I was not very concerned about the Bouncer's feelings at that point.  I've asked myself what kind of person that made me and I don't know the answer.  Perhaps I was scared young woman who got caught up in the twist and turns of her life and wanting to sort it herself instead of having someone else make a choice for her. Or perhaps I didn't have the maturity or understanding of what it means to really love someone and put their feelings right there with yours in such a life altering decision.  I just needed to sort and once I did, I could open up to the rest of the world - including The Bouncer.  He had a stake in this too - this was his baby and I felt so sure that his words were matching his feelings. I couldn't deny him that and I loved him too much to discard him to the side forever.

I realized I was hungry and still nauseated.  Eating would make me feel better.  It did. The knowledge that I was pregnant made me choose more healthy food too.  While walking back across campus from the cafeteria, I thought about the Bouncer and how awful this must be for him being away from me and having me ignore him.  I decided I would call him when I got back to the dorm room . It would be before his shift at UPS began. I wanted him to know that I was ok.

I opened the exterior door to the dorm and out of habit, looked inside the hall. There, in front of my dorm room door, about 30 feet down the hall, sat the bouncer with his head back against the wall.  His hands were clasped together and his knees drawn up to his chest. He was just sitting there.  When I saw him before he saw me, I knew right then that I loved him and we would get married. That's what I wanted.  I just needed the space and freedom to choose that.  And now I had.

I heard the door close behind me and so did he.

The Bouncer, Part 3

"Please don't contact me for 3 days," I said.

The hurt on his face was obvious. "Why?" he pleaded.

"Because I have a lot to think about and I can't do it if you're emotionally in the middle of my thoughts.  You have a lot to think about too and you can't do it if I'm in the middle of the questions that you need answers to."  I saw the further sting of hurt on his face. "I'll call you in a few days," I said as I closed the door. 

I doubt if he ever heard the door close.

In our lifetimes, we accumulate experiences and we come to realize that there were times when people and their feelings have been the casualty of our personal thoughts and behaviors.  This was one of those times.  I know that I hurt him by saying what I did and doing what I did. I knew that I needed time to sort my thoughts, emotions, and ultimately decisions for the matter at hand.  I felt obligated to investigate my options and I wanted a clear head over a raw heart.

Two hours later, I opened the phone book and made an appt with the pregnancy counseling center.  You know - the one where they advertise to help you explore your options when you are scared and pregnant?  I found them under abortion in the yellow pages. I was so young and so naive that I really believed they were going to help me explore my options across the board.  They told me to come right then, that they had had someone cancel.  I blindly went.  They required me to take a pregnancy test.  No problem - I knew I was pregnant.  Then I remember sitting in what looked like a Doctor's personal office with pictures of babies plastered all over the walls. There were plastic models of pelvises and babies growing and infant toys on shelves. I recalled seeing strollers and bassinets and changing tables in the other room.  Having never been in a setting like this before, I didn't know what to expect. Adoption posters lined the walls and thank you letters from new parents who had adopted babies.  I remember feeling a bit of uneasiness but couldn't detect what was at the root and shrugged it off to being so confused about just discovering that my birth control efforts had failed and I was 20 years old, unmarried, and pregnant.

A few minutes later, there was a soft knock on the door and a woman walked in and closed the door.  Imagine my surprise when she turned to me and presented me with what I now know to be about a 8 or 9 month pregnant belly.

"Hello," she said in her soft voice.  I can still visualize her brown and gold maternity dress cascading softly over her full round belly.  Her breast were full and round and sat gently right above her abdomen.  The dress was sleeveless and gathered right above her bump and then fell thinly across her huge ripe belly.  She detected my surprise and touched her belly and said, "I guess we are kinda in the same boat. huh?"

I watched her waddle a few steps across the room and I wondered if the baby was going to fall out any time now.  I also remember thinking how stunningly beautiful she looked in that condition.  Her skin glowed and she had the most beautiful simple smile. She asked me a few questions about the father of the baby and I told her that we were already planning to get married but that I was having a real problem accepting the reality of this situation since I had been so very careful with birth control.  She asked about what kind of birth control we had been using. "The Sponge and condoms," I answered back.

"Do you think maybe this was meant to be?" she asked and I felt the hair on my arms stand at full attention. I just sat there scared and unaware of what was happening.

I remember her asking me if I wish I weren't pregnant.

"Of course I wish I weren't pregnant!" I said to her.  "If I wanted to be pregnant and was happy about it, why in the world would I be here exploring my options and seeking guidance and counseling about what to do?" I felt my radar kind of spring up.  After all, I did find their number under the abortion heading in the yellow pages.  Was she trying to test me to see how interested I was in talking about Abortion?  I could feel my confusion multiplying by the second and spreading over me like a bad virus.

"What options are you looking for?" she spoke softly where I could barely hear her.

"I want to be able to consider all my options and I'm not even sure what all of those are," I continued.  "I know that I can keep the baby and get married or not.  I know that I can stay pregnant and give it up for adoption -although I do not believe that is something that I'm going to want to do..." and I lingered a few seconds and she said, "And what other options do you think you have?"

"I could terminate the pregnancy," I said.

"Yes, you could....." she said looking straight at me, "but are you sure you want to do that given that you have a brand new life growing inside you at this very moment?"

Whoa Nelly! I sat there kind of stunned.  And what happened after that still plays like a slow moving motion picture in my head. 

She reached over and took my hand and placed it on her belly.  She pressed inward which caused her baby to react and initiate limb movement. "I love just sitting and feeling my baby move.  I think about what he will be like and how wonderful it will be to hold him and love him and nurture him. I think about what a Gift From God he is and how I could never defy God..."  I could feel her baby moving under my hand and that was fascinating but what I really felt was my radar growing louder and a sense of panicked reality taking over. 

Then she hit me with the punch line, "Why would you want to kill something that you know is already alive and even though you didn't plan it, it was created with a love that you already admit to sharing with its father?  Why would you insult God like that?"

I yanked my hand back with the sudden awareness of what kind of place I was actually in.  The reality hit me like a slap in the face and I felt immediately embarrassed that I had been so gullible to not even suspect their motives.  I stood up.

"Where are you going?" she questioned me as I picked up my purse and started for the door.  I could sense her urgency.

"We have people who will pay for your prenatal care and support you through the pregnancy....just don't kill your baby.  Please, you'll live with the regret and shame all your life and it will haunt you every single time you look at other children or hold your own....the Bible says that children are a gift from God......" I tried to tune her voice out but I can still hear her and see her standing there in the doorway trying to block my departure from the trap that had been set before me.

I couldn't believe that I was hearing these words.  I felt like I was having slime thrust all over my body.  Jeeze!  How much could one person stand to experience in one day?  Just hours earlier, I had learned that I was pregnant and I was in search of someone to give me clear, unbiased support in the form of informationso that I could sort it all out and then make a decision based on facts and procedures...I didn't want some pregnant woman quoting scripture to me and guilting me by using her unborn baby to emotionally trap me into something that I didn't understand.

I know that she heard that door slam.