Day 2 of Gut Spilling

This is her birthday. And yes, I was raised by a mother that believes you must have your nails done and hair coiffed before entering the hospital.

I was also lucky enough to require a scheduled C-Section which allowed me to put a call into my hairdresser and manicurist the day before I went in. I kind of skipped the whole labor and delivery thing. I just plain evicted her!





















This is one of the most recent photos I have of her.











The love I have for that little girl up there is more then I can ever hope to explain. That baby girl is the reason I am so happy and fulfilled today. When I found out she existed, I made a promise to her and myself that if she ever came looking for me, she wouldn't find a burn-out, broken, and depressed shell of a person. I vowed she would find a vibrant, healthy, happy woman.


I am well on the way to making that a reality. There are shadows of memories that trip me up sometimes, but I happily admit there are no longer DEMONS lurking in those shadows. I have conquered much but not on my own. That little girl's life led me the one I know as Lord and God.


People often ask if I'm worried about loving more babies after her. Anyone who's a mother reading this knows how silly that is! There is no way I could ever stop loving Maggie, AND there's no way the love I feel for her would hinder my ability to love my future sons or daughteres. That's the key! Maggie is my child, true, but she is NOT my daughter.


I am not the woman Maggie turns to when she needs her tears wiped. I am not the woman that loses sleep at night wondering if Maggie is going to be happy and healthy. I am not the woman Maggie will go wedding dress shopping with. I am not the woman who will rock Maggie's children to sleep.


I am the woman that gave Maggie life. I am the woman that provided nuture and love to Maggie long before she was aware of it. I am the woman that prays for Maggie behind the scenes and begs God to continue to pour blessings on her. I am the woman that has a connection to Maggie by blood.


Although, Maggie's mother and I do share some qualities. Both of lives were forever changed the moment we found out she existed. Her mother and I have an unspeakable and indescribable bond. We both love the same little girl more than any other little girl on this planet. We would both lay our lives down for the same little brunette baby. We both never want to see her cry, and both struggle with the understanding that she will.


I am deeply thankful for the experiences I have had in my life. I hit my knees every night thanking God for the hurdles I have been able to overcome with His help. I couldn't imagine my life today without those things in my past.


This song has had many meanings for me. At one time it was the one I played for Maggie. I placed the lyrics in her bassinet and sent them home with her parents. Currently, it best describes a prayer I say at night.

The Reason

I'm not a perfect person

There's many things I wish I didn't do

But I continue learning

I never meant to do those things to you

And so I have to say before I go

That I just want you to know

I've found a reason for me to change who I used to be

A reason to start over new and the reason is

You

I'm sorry that I hurt you

It's something I must live with everyday

And all the pain I put you through

I wish that I could take it all away

and be the one who catches all your tears

Thats why i need you to hear

I've found a reason for me to change who I used to be

A reason to start over new and the reason is

You

I'm not a perfect person

I never meant to do those things to you

And so I have to say before I go

That I just want you to know

I've found a reason for me to change who I used to be

A reason to start over new and the reason is

You

I've found a reason to show

A side of me you didn't know

A reason for all that I do

And the reason is

You

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



I'm FAIRLY certain this is the last of the posts in this series. I'm not usually this nostalgic! It's actually been a loooong time since I've written like this about these things. (No, I'm not repressing, I pay my therapist big bucks to prevent that!! Hahaha.)


I like to think of these posts as word vomit, random thoughts and feelings organized and expressed using the English language.


This blog will soon be back to it's regularly scheduled Sassie Cassie-ness! Please stay tuned...

Another Gut Spillage

*sigh* I was hoping this emotional post wasn't going to come bubbling to the surface for a few more days, but here it is.

December 13, 2006 is an anniversary. A very important milestone in my life. If hadn't endured that day, I wouldn't be the woman I am today. In a strange concoction of life, sin and evil on the rocks with a twist of irony for flavor, I am sitting here today healthier and more at ease than I have ever been in my life.

I guess things just came to a boil tonight while I was talking with a few girls I've known for a while. I finally shared everything with them. The rape, Maggie, Joe, all the shit from the past year. Suddenly Lynne was sobbing and admitting that her sister had just been checked into a mental institution after being gang raped on Saturday. What do you say to that?!?!?!?!?!? Lynne kept telling me, "I understand how you feel"

I guess in some sick, sad way I was relieved. Finally, I had met someone that could relate to the hell I have been going through the past 3 years. (Wow. Hard to belive how long it's been!) I feel like I've been living under this dark cloud. I have always just chalked it up to depression. Depression I can handle.....shame? Well that's a different story.

I don't have many memories from my past due to the fact that I've repressed most of them after my parent's horrendous divorce. But there is one day in particular that I will ALWAYS be able to remember with the same amount of pain and anguish I felt the day it happened.

December 14, 2003.

That was the day I learned, through an AIM conversation, that I had been witnessed having sex with another guy....not Joe.

I remember how I felt when I slowly began to put the pieces together. I don't remember that. It suddenly felt like all the blood in my body had moved to my head and was now trying to escape out my ears. I would never have sex with someone else! I remember my feet feeling like they were floating off the ground. What the hell is going on?!?!?!?!? I remember looking at Joe's face and feeling like I was the worst person in the world. What happened last night? What am I not remembering?!?!?!? I remember him telling me that he was going to take me back to my dorm so he could sort through things alone. i was raped. I remember wanting to die.

A short couple months later, news of the growing Maggie came along. I tried to go back to school. I wanted to make it work. I wanted to prove to everyone that I had it all together....I could do this! I can't tell you how much time elapsed. Slowly but surely I was sliding into a dark depression. A depression that could only be detected by myself. On the outside I looked fine, on the inside I was black.

One day I woke from my stupor long enough to realize that I hadn't eaten in a week. It dawned on me that of all the people I knew, I myself posed the biggest threat to my daughter. I alone was going to be responsible for whether or not she lived. If I had kept going where I was going, I surely would have lost her. I had a developed a strange love-hate relationship. I loved her more then anything because she was my daughter....a part of me. I hated her with a blinding white passion because I couldn't hate her enough to kill her.

Sobbing, I called my mom and begged her to come get me. I told her she had to save me from this....she had to help me save my daughter.

I wish I could tell you, that after I left that enviroment, everything was peachy keen. It was far from it. As days turned into months and I began to look like I was smuggling a VW Bug under my shirt, I began to resent all the people around me. I hated Maggie for how she had ruined my life. I hated everyone my own age who got to live life normally....happily. I hated Joe for his ability to just walk away and forget it all. I hated God for hating me so much. And the hatred I felt for myself grew with every passing hour. Because I had made such reckless decisions, my daughter would never know her mother. I added her life to the long list of others that I had managed to ruin.

September 8, 2004 marked the day I became a mother. I have yet to see anything as beautiful as my daughter. I would burst into tears every time I looked into her face. The last night in the hospital, I begged the nurses to leave her in the room with me. All night I lay there with her in my arms, watching her sleep. This tiny little angel had been sent down from heaven and I loved her with my whole heart. I physically ached from the pain that I knew I was going to have to bear in the next twelve hours.

I'm glad to say that since September 11, 2004, I have never again felt as much pain as I felt that day. I watched the love of my life, my heart and soul, being carried away to a new life. A life that didn't include me. I felt like my heart had been ripped out of my chest.

I remember the weight of her tiny body as I dressed her in pink from head to toe. Maggie, please don't hate me. I remember feeling her soft hair against my cheek. I love you more then you'll ever possibly know. I remember hearing the snap of her car seat straps and thinking they sounded like gunfire. I can't do this! I remember collapsing into my mother's arms as she was being carried away. Dear Lord, please don't make me do this. I remember screaming, "Oh my god! My baby! What have I done?" over and over again until my throat was raw. Please just let me die because I can't live without her. I remember crying until I passed out. Please just let this be a horrible dream...

For days I slept on the couch because I couldn't bear the thought of sleeping in my room alone. I couldn't imagine what it would be like waking up in my bed and not feeling her move around. I hated myself. I hated life. I hated everyone around me.

To this day, at random moments, my heart skips a beat and I want to double over in pain. I'll hear or say the name Maggie and for a moment I'll feel like I'm going to faint. After I came home from the hospital, I developed an eating disorder trying to control the pain that was overwhelming my days. Some days I swear I can still hear the sound of her gentle breathing, although the memory is slowly fading. I still get phantom kicks in my stomach. Sometimes I still wish I could have her back.

I've been through hell and I've made it back. What choice did I have? If I fell apart, two lives would have been lost.

A friend once said it best, "I live my life one day at a time, as depressed as I feel, I live it." That's all you can do. Failure is not an option. You press on, you deal with the consequences. I have conquered an eating disorder. I have found Christ. My sins have been forgiven. I have forgiven my rapist. I have forgiven myself. I have a relationship with Maggie's parents. I am four semesters from being handed my bachelor's degree. I have an amazing boyfriend. I have close friends. I have repaired relationships. I am so close to be being engaged I can SMELL the diamond!! ;-) Things couldn't be better.

The thing I've learned, life is too precious to walk away from. There are a lot of things ahead for me in the future. Marriage, motherhood, PhD, saving children. I have so many things too look forward to but...sometimes it helps when I look back.

The One in Which I Spill My Guts

I've been blogging for a long, long time (January 2003). It started as an escape--a place I retreated to in order to get my thoughts organized. Since that time, blogging evolved and began serving many other purposes. It became the manner in which I stayed in touch with people I loved but couldn't be near. Then blogging acted as a place to share thoughts with those very close to me in a way I was not able to in face to face situations.

Then it all went 'kablooey'! I blogged about a struggle I was having. I was beginning to depend on alcohol more and more and I began to document my battles. Some of them I won and I wrote about them. Other times I was defeated and I wrote about those times as well. Suddenly I found myself sitting across from the Resident Director of my dorm.

I was informed that I was not allowed to document my struggles. Why? Well when I entered Tiny Christian University I signed a document that bound me to a certain lifestyle for as long as I was a student. Basically no sex, drugs or alcohol. So after being told the staff "is very supportive of students stuck in sin battles," I was slapped with ONE CALENDAR year of 'Moral Probation' and sentenced to weekly meetings with a sappy, out of touch, sheltered student mentor. And once every month I have to meet with Residence Life staff to 'discuss my progress'.

I was informed that since I was a leader in the eyes of our campus community, it wasn't in everyone's best interest to see me struggling. I was told directly, "People know you! You can't be struggling with something like that!"

(Yes, I'm serious.) So what has this mess accomplished. Not a whole helluva lot. I still struggle with alcohol, I just hide it better. I finally quit writing about it and when I did that, I stopped acknowledging my drinking altogether. The meetings accomplished nothing except pushing me farther into my secret life and bringing out my depression and wreaking havoc in my own PROFESSIONAL therapy.

What did I learn? I need to write. I need to process. I need to deoompress. So here I am, hopefully somewhat hidden. We shall see.