Hannah! Where are you?...Mom. I’m right here.

To say I am an overprotective mom would make those closest to me laugh and laugh.  I am beyond an overprotective mom.  I am a sack of frayed nerves, chewed up lips, and a few tears mom.  I remember the day they handed Hannah to me.  I’m sure all moms can relate to that moment.  She was so beautiful, so perfect, so SMALL, SO FRAGILE…oh my!  Okay calm down Jodie.  You’ve got this. You are going to be a great mom.  You know exactly what not to do. Chuckles to self..okay seriously. This tiny little girl is going to depend on you for everything.  What. Have. You. Done? Deep breath.  Thank goodness for the remaining medication in my system from the general anesthetic.  LOL.  James takes her from me.  I watch him staring at her and proudly showing her to all our family. I love this man so much… I can here everyone laughing and see their smiles, “Way to go mom! You did so good.” I smiled as best I could through the drug haze. Delivery wasn’t so easy for me…that is a whole different blog post. 

I drifted off into a semi-sleep state, and as they always do when I sleep, the nightmares start the memories are vivid…I was scared. It was dark.  I wanted to be at home, but I knew I couldn’t be.  Pretend to be asleep.  Pretend to be asleep.  It didn’t work. It never did.  My abuser was there and there was no stopping the inevitable. There was no way to protect myself and there was no one there to protect me.  Dear God it’s me, Jodie, I want to say I love you and thank you for Jesus.  Please let me go home and go to sleep for real. Please make this stop.  Please help me tell my mom. Please help me be a good girl.  Amen.  Then I go to where I am happy…I go to the place where I have a happy home where my mom and dad aren’t drunk and high.  I go to a place where there is not a party every night with strange people in my house.  I go to a place where I have cute clothes like the other little girls, and my parents are in the audience as I perform at my piano recital. There are cookies baking and its quiet…very quiet.  No shouting and yelling.  No loud music. Its perfection. It’s the life I know today as a mom and wife.

I wake up! I feel my belly. Hannah is not there. Where am I? “James!” I croak out anxiously.  “I’m right here honey”, he says in that deep calm voice that settles me to my core.  “Are you hurting?” he says with concern in his voice.  Always so concerned about me. We’ve been married for a while now and I still don’t fully understand that sincerity.  I like it and I depend on it daily, but I still don’t believe it. Many people have pretended to love me in the past, but most of those situations were very conditional and only lasted through whatever situation it was that benefited them.  I remember confiding in one of my mom’s closest friends one night.  I felt so good to have someone to talk to.  I remember thanking God for sending me someone to talk to, something I had never had.  That feeling was quickly replaced with dread and fear as my mother confronted me about all the lies I told this person.  I was adequately reminded to keep my mouth shut about her and my dad.  The fear was instilled and I became quiet for a very long time. But James is different.  He keeps all my secrets.  He doesn’t care if I have nothing to give him or everything.  He keeps loving me…even when I really don’t deserve it.  “Baby…if you are hurting push that button ok.” He touches my arm.  “Where is the baby?” I ask.  “She is right here.  You want to hold her?” I do. I want to look at her now that I am more awake and less nauseated.  Thank goodness. He hands her to me and she is wide awake.  I look into her huge blues eyes.  She makes her little mouth into the shape of an “o” and yawns; sticking her little wet tongue out.  “I should feed her again, huh?”  I looked up at James (as if he knows anymore than me). “Sure” he says so confident. He read a lot of books before we had her. LOL.  She latches on and her cheeks suck in and out.  Oh my.  I am amazed.  I look at her mesmerized, in love with her, nervous that I am not adequate to be the mom she needs.  Despite all of the horrible things I’ve just written. I momentarily miss my mom. I wish I had someone to be here, not “someone”…I wish I had a mom here to look at me proudly and assure me I am doing this right. So I pray and God comforts me.  He reminds me I have James, and that is more than enough.

Those first moments of having Hannah were the most beautiful of my life.  They were also the most difficult emotionally.  I had tried to years to deal with the emotional aftermath of my abuse, but I don’t really understand how or if one recovers from such things completely.  I know that God can heal anything both physically and spiritually.  I know that daily I would go to him in prayer not even sure what I was asking for most days, and he somehow gave me exactly what I needed to bring me to this moment where I type these words. But, I had only dealt with my abuse as a child…not a mom.  I have to admit becoming a mom to this beautiful little girl made me even angrier with my mother.  It made me wonder why she didn’t love me the way I instantly loved Hannah.  I wondered why no one had to desire to protect the little blonde haired blue eyed girl that so obviously suffered right before them.  There were so many people who could have stepped in. So many people who did protect their children, but left us to be victimized. ANGER is what I felt.  Deep dark anger.  The period after Hannah was born was a constant struggle.  It was a struggle to see through the anger to the beauty of what my life was in the present moments.  I focused so hard on James and our baby and this wonderful life we had built. 

Being this one time victim had made me a very “overprotective” mother in deed.  I would never let anything happen to this baby girl.  Her life would be filled with wonderful healthy happy thoughts and memories… no darkness. I knew without a doubt that it was my responsibility…no my purpose in life to protect her.  Hannah is 9 now.  Protecting an infant from the world is one thing, but protecting a growing pre-teen is a whole new ball game.  “Hannah!” Oh my God…where is she? Someone took her! I feel a light tough at my hand, but I can’t focus…I have lost her.  There are people everyone in this tiny town on the boardwalk of Myrtle Beach.  Do I run out the door? Some man grabbed her and hit the door. I know it! I see her crying and I panic. I didn’t protect her! I have failed. Oh God please..“James…where is Hannah. I lost…” panic clear in my voice. “Mom!” I hear a little voice…It’s my little voice.  I look down to Hannah’s laughing eyes.  She picks up my hand which is clasped to hers.  “Mom you are so silly. I am right here!”  My face turns pink.  I let out a nervous giggle.  James is looking at me like I am a maniac.  I swallow the nervous nausea at the base of my neck.  I squeeze her little hand and say, “Sorry kiddo I have a lot of bags in my hand, a-a-and my phone. I thought I was holding my phone in my hand.” She looks back up and smiles, “It’s okay mom. I’m not going to walk away from you. I’m right here, promise.”  I smile back and thank God he gave me such a precious baby who doesn’t mind I’m a little on the nervous side when it comes to her.  When we get out of the car at any store she immediately grabs my hand.  Each time she does this…I know and she knows that she holds my hand for my sake…not hers. 

 

Hannah Spring Piano Recital 2009

Myrtle Beach Vacation 2010