I remember it well. I don't remember WHY he hit me, or what the arguement was about. I do remember packing up my little girl and walking to the nearest payphone. The problem was that I didn't really have anyone to call. I couldn't tell my parents, I was too ashamed. TMOC was too far away,and besides, if he knew, he would've killed Randi. Thumped him out, at the very least. None of my friends were in any position to help me. I had no money, Randi made sure of that.
We went back.
Things went down hill from there. I got a job, at Randi's insistence, and had to leave my 18 month old daughter with a sitter. Randi told me to get a job so that I would have my 'own' money. My sitter made more than me, and whatever was left, Randi took, supposedly to pay bills. I was working full time, and still doing everything at home. While I cooked, cleaned, and bathed K.C.,Randi relaxed after his "hard day". I, meanwhile, rode my bike to work, then spent 9 hours on my feet all day working a crappy factory job. It came to a crashing halt after a few weeks when I came home early one day and heard the sitter( my friend since we were 4 and 6 ), hitting and cursing at my baby.
Things were not great at home, but I told no one. I never had money, and had to ask if I wanted to go somewhere. I desperately wanted out, but I had no cash, no job skills, no place to hide. I can remember the police being called to our apartment on more than one occassion. I always put on a brave face,insisted that everything was fine, thanks for stopping by.
It was Christmas time before I suspected that I was pregnant again. I remember telling my best friends on New Years eve. Yup, I'm having a baby, and it's going to be a boy. I wanted this baby so badly, more than anything. not to make things right with Randi and I, but because he was MINE. That baby was loved, by me, from the moment the he was concieved. Randi, of course, was less than impressed.
The fighting was getting worse, and by this time, Randi was cheating on me, and not even bothering to hide it. It seemed as though I was constantly pissing him off. I actually babysat for the girl that he was screwing. I look back and can't believe it my self
I had a preminition about the baby. I dreamed that he was still born. The next day, February 4th, 1990, seemed the same as every other day. Randi and I were fighting, about....something. Same as always. The unbelievable part is what happened next. I should have left the apartment,or taken K.C. and locked ourselves in the bedroom. I didn't do either one of those things. Randi had hit me before,but I WAS PREGNANT. I never in a million years expected what happened next. Randi was sitting in a chair, screaming and freaking out. Instead of walking away, I went to him, stood in front of him, asked him' WHAT is your problem'? I can still see it when I close my eyes, in slow - mo. The kick, aimed right at my belly.
The next 24 hours or so are mostly a blur. There was a procedure, some complications,because I was nearly 7 months along. The doctor wanted me to stay in the hospital for a few days, maybe a week. I couldn't. How could I leave my baby alone with him? Nobody spoke directly to me, but instead every piece of imformation was gleamed from conversations about me. It was a boy. He was perfect - or would have been. We could go ahead and try to have another baby in 3 months.
I told no one, not a soul, about the abuse, even after all of this.
The doctors released me, against medical advice, within 24 hours. I was to be on bed rest for at least a week, no lifting for 6 weeks. My 1st day home, Randi informed that I was babysitting the very next day. Nobody gets a free ride. That was the end of my bed rest.
Randi refuses to acknowledge that there ever was a baby, to this very day. There was. His Mommy loved him . Alot. His name was Shane.