Hello again! In part one of my Super Mom story, I had been betrayed in my marriage, and was spending time and living with the man I thought was my best friend.
This man encouraged me to harness my creativity as we shared similar creative interests, and wherever he went, I was sure to be seen on his arm. He was proud and boastful, and I soon became the envy of his friends’ girlfriends.
Anything I wanted was given to me, and I was on cloud nine. We worked weddings together; I as the photographer and he as the videographer. We spent hours on Photoshop perfecting our craft. It was bliss.
But believe me, nothing lasts forever.
As time went on, I felt like I was dying inside. I wasn’t happy in my marriage (yes, I was still married to the man I had been so sure was the love of my life) and because of this, I couldn’t commit to my new-found best friend.
I felt pressed to end my marriage, but I didn’t see myself living happily ever after as my best friend’s wife.
This caused a lot of friction.
I will never forget the day when my best friend came in drunk. I was laying on the bed. He approached me, and I told him that I didn’t feel like being intimate. He proceeded to insist, had his way, and left me totally destroyed inside.
I never would have imagined that my best friend - a man I had confided everything in - would do what he did to me that night. But most impactful of all, it left me pregnant.
As my belly grew, I began to see more and more of the destructive choices of my son’s father. He wanted me to abort my son, but I wouldn’t hear of it. He started treating me like an intruder, demanding I move out (we had lived together for five years at this point). When I wouldn’t move, he started to threaten me and became hostile.
For the first six months of my pregnancy, I suffered severe hyperemesis - or extreme morning sickness. I had to be hooked up to an IV, and suffer through suppositories so that I could eat. My doctors insisted that I abort my little prince, because he was literally absorbing all of my nutrients.
I was losing weight, and he was growing nicely. But I refused to give up on his life, so I could have mine. I believed that the God I served would spare us both.
At four months pregnant, I had to have my appendix removed via laser surgery. The doctors explained to me that there would be a 50/50 chance that my son would live. He survived, and I ultimately gave birth to a beautiful baby boy.
The abuse at home continued to become more extreme though. My daughters were 13 and 14, and my son was three months old. At this point, I contacted a domestic violence organization, which helped me to safely exit my living situation.
I spent 11 months in a domestic violence shelter and 7 months in a homeless shelter before finally saving enough money to move from New York City to Delaware.