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Don't divorce your kidsJan 01 '01 Write an essay on this topic.My mother was fourteen when she got pregnant. She told her parents that she was going to have a baby and then she went on to school and when she returned home, she found her parents had simply moved. It was a small town and they couldn't endure the 'shame'. She then went to my father and he proposed to her. There didn't seem to be any other option. My mother discovered quickly that married life wasn't for her. The idea of cooking and cleaning for another person, wasn't up her alley, so about a year after I was born, she simply left me with my father and his family, and she ran away. She was only gone a few weeks, when she discovered she was missing me. She simply came back and 'stole' me. A fifteen year old girl with a baby has very little options. She took 'baby-sitting' jobs whenever she could. When I was a child, I had no idea how difficult this must have been for her, but as an adult, I'm amazed we survived. For the first seven years of my life, all I can remember is constant moving from job to job and going to several different schools. Nothing was a certainty. When I was seven my sister joined our family. My mother wasn't married at the time and the baby was the product of a short affair with a married man. I adored my sister. It seemed to be just us 'three girls'. The few men that did manage to come into our lives, were just the infrequent flings my mother would have. We would see them come to visit for a few days, then we'd never see them again. It was during this time that I began 'dreaming' about my father. Who was he? Where did he go? Why did he allow my mother to just take me away and never try to find me? In my imaginary world, I pretended that my mother had stolen me from Roy Rogers and Dale Evens and someday I would find my way back home to them. The first time I ran away I was seven years old. I spent part of the night in a treehouse and when I finally got home, a policeman was there at our apartment and scared the 'tar' out of me! As I grew older, mother took other jobs, and I was left at home caring for my younger sister. I can remember missing my mother, because she would work all night, then on weekends she would go 'play'. Being so young, I didn't understand why she wanted to be gone so much, but when I realized she was only twenty-three, then it made sense to me. My mother married again when I was fourteen. It was a horrible marriage. He was an alcoholic, and very abusive. (I ran away then, too). The only GOOD thing I can remember about that marriage, is when she divorced him. There were still men in my mother's life, but again, they were fleeting. After graduating from high school, my mother and I took a trip. I was thrilled when we came to the town where I was born. I looked in a phone book and nearly fell over when I saw my maiden name listed there. My mother was shocked too, I had found an Uncle. I called and he was more excited than I was. We stopped by and visited for several hours, then got on our way to finish our trip. My Uncle had asked if I would come back later and live with them for awhile. Most of the family had moved back to the East, but he wanted an opportunity to get to know his 'long lost' neice. Three months later, I moved in. In the meantime, my Uncle had called my father and told him that I had returned. Since the divorce, my father had remarried and had four more children. His other children did not know I exisited, although his wife did. Now he had some explaining to do. I stayed with my Uncle for six months. I worked as well, making sure that I wasn't a burden for him and his family. During that time period I met several Aunts and Uncles, as well as grandparents who came all the way from Arkansas to meet me. But my father never came. Then one day he called. This was the first time I had talked to my father in eighteen years. He explained to me that when my mother took me from him, he got a letter from 'her' mother, explaining that I wasn't his child and for him to not try to find me. I asked my mother if this was true, and she said 'no'. He sent a check, asking me to come be with them, but I tore it up and refused to come, after all, he was a liar and I told him so. Later I went back home, got a job and lived on my own. I was married at nineteen, and although my marriage has suffered a few rough spots, we've managed to hold it together for 34 years. My husband comes from a well adjusted family, so, I know he's had some hurdles to overcome being married to me. When I was forty years old, my father and step-mother came out to California to see his family. My husband and I drove down to meet him. He still insisted what he had told me years ago was true, and that I wasn't his child. That only separated us even more. It was a very 'strained' meeting. When I got home, I told my mother how obnoxious he was to keep repeating that old ruse, but mom lowered her head and shamefully explained that it WAS true. I was devistated! I immediantly called my father back and appologized for my behavior. He accepted it. But there's more to this twisted story. Years ago my mother had a quick fling in the end of January, the 'boyfriend' left her. She then met my father in February and that's when she 'thought' she was pregnant. Her parents moved, so she told my father that the baby was his. They were married in March. When she saw the doctor and told him that she was four months pregnant, he told her that she was only two months pregnant. I was born at the end of September. If I had been the first man's baby, I would have been nearly full-term, but instead I barely weighed four pounds and 17 inches long. More than likely, I AM my father's child anyway. Now everyone wants a blood test. But you know something, I'm not going to do it. Even though my father 'thought' I was another man's child, I was his LEGAL child. He was the only father I knew. The only one I prayed for to come rescue me. When my mother walked away, I was a year old, and he watched me go without lifting a finger. He divorced me too. So here I am, fifty-three years old. I have a strong, loving family, with a husband who adores his sons and grandchildren. I can see how valuable a man is, in raising children, it gives them a sense of completeness. You don't have to be 'blood' to be family. All you have to do, is care. If divorce happens, then try to remember the children... Don't divorce them too. Or what may happen is one day, that child will be an adult and divorce you.  |
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