Conversation (Sort of)

Sitting on the couch I couldn’t help but see the piles of clean, unfolded laundry taking up space on the love-seat. This was a sign of all the help that I was not getting while on mandatory bed rest after miscarrying a twin. A baby remained and I rubbed my large belly trying to express the love that I felt for her and to make up for the love my husband would undoubtedly be unable to offer to our unborn child.

He was in the kitchen, preparing lunch for us. We had five small children, the oldest being seven years old.

“Go get the kids and have them wash up, lunch is almost ready,” he ordered.

I opened the front door, yanking hard as it was a door we rarely used, it creaked open and I hollered to the children all playing on the swing set, seemingly without a care in the world. Calling each name I followed that with, “Let’s wash up, lunch is ready.”

My husband screamed, “What in the hell are you doing?” as he took huge strides to be by my side. With no further ado he picked me up and threw me down the hall to my left. Skidding across the blue carpet I tried to huddle to protect my unborn child, all the while I had my hand out to stop me from crashing into the wall that I was oh so close to. My hand touched something sharp, the metal door hinge, and I felt the blood slip down from my palm. Rolling onto my back, I stayed in a fetal position to attempt to save the helpless human within.

“We live right next to the landlord, are you trying to get us evicted?” he bellowed.

“No, I was just…”

“Shut up, just shut the f— up!”

I saw his fist tense and raised my hands to block the impending blow.

Startled he said, “Oh my God, your hand is bleeding! Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”

I should have been wary of his change of attitude, but it was nothing new, the cycle of violence. “No, I will take care of it,” I could feel the tears of worry defying my attempts at composure as I rose to go to the bathroom to wash up from his fury.

My husband stood over me, feigning concern, as I washed up. “Let me help you,” he demanded.

“You,” I yelled in a rare show of defiance, “need to get the f— away from me.”

He wasn’t done with his niceties though, “Come on, baby. I’m sorry, I won’t do it again. I was just upset because we can’t get evicted for loud noises. Where would we go? Oh my God, I’m so sorry.”

My aching body tensed as he wrapped his arms around me. Feeling defeated I allowed him to take the wash cloth and clean up the traces of his anger. I knew it wasn’t over yet, we still had to have make-up sex, which would be after lunch, and I was cringing at allowing this monster near me.

Maybe I could have left, right then, maybe I should have, but I needed him. He had me convinced that I was too stupid and ugly to ever be wanted by anyone, and I was in need of someone to take care of the kids and me. My only other option was to convince the doctor to take me off bed rest, but I knew it was a long shot and my husband was good to the kids. So I continued to sacrifice safety.

About Laura

Writing is a passion for me, a healing process from past abuse, and a show of strength to other MEN and women that have endured or are enduring. Happiness is around the corner, reach for it, attain it, and embrace it, even if that means walking away.
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14 Responses to Conversation (Sort of)

  1. moonwriter says:

    Oh my gosh. That was intense!! Very well written and despite the disturbing content, I really want to read more now. I am so sorry for the loss of your baby (I know how that feels) and for the loss of your freedom and safety. I hope (and please forgive me if this sounds judgmental in any way) that this man is a distant memory and no longer your husband (and that your kids are okay!). I want to know more about you. Thank you for sharing your experience, I am sure it was painful to write about.

    • Thank you, yes, this took place almost fifteen years ago, he is a distant nightmare now. Three of the five children were mine, two of whom are now U.S. Marines, and the third a senior in high school. The one that I was pregnant with is a freshman in high school and has been nominated to homecoming court. Overtime you will hear more from me, and you will see that there really are happy endings in life. 🙂

  2. caseltine6 says:

    Oh wow. So well articulated. I can feel every emotion in your words. So painful. I can’t wait to read more.

    • Thank you for your kind words, it may seem sick, but I’m glad that others are feeling the emotions that I write about. I’ve always distanced myself from what I felt during that time, and this piece turns a corner for me. I’m sorry to share my past pains with others, but it is nice to feel as if I’m no longer alone.

      • caseltine6 says:

        Please don’t be sorry! It was very inspirational to me. I have been married to an emotionally abusive man for 15 years. My pain has never been physical (except for the migraines from the stress) and hearing my same emotions reflected in your story is a great thing. I used to always worry if or when he would escalate to physical but he has behaved much better since a recent separation. I am so glad you are free of that and really cant wait to read more.
        recently I read a quote that said “joy shared is doubled, but sorrow shared is divided.” I liked it a lot and think it fits here well.

  3. freckles says:

    Don’t be sorry to share your past pains with us. My stomach churned as the scene unfolded. To have miscarried a child is hard (I know, happened twice for me) but then to endure your husbands explosive moods, I am happy to know you came through it, baby still intact and now a freshman in high school. I look forward to reading more from you. Your style and descriptions flowed, great writing.

    • Thank you for your kind comments. I’m sorry for your losses as well. Writing this piece was very therapeutic for me, mostly because I avoid sharing my emotions when writing. To know that I have touched so many is a great testament to my continued healing. 🙂

  4. smyrnami says:

    Great writing, nice tempo. I know how difficult it can be to write about a painful history. I’ve only gotten through the draft part myself. Keep up the good work.

  5. Thank you for reading this, your feedback is priceless. I understand the writing process to be tough, but keep pushing yourself, it is worth every second of your time to heal from the past and move forward. 🙂

  6. Ann-Marie says:

    Beautiful writing & Thank you for sharing.
    I didnt want to write about “those” moments from my past.
    I thought that with ALL the terror of today’s world, my pain was insignifigant.
    Every ” (sort of) Coversation ” Matters

  7. Hana says:

    Hi Laura – this was such a difficult topic to read about but you write so well that I read every word, hoping and rooting for you and the kids. I don’t think it is an easy task to open up and share the hard things in life but I think you do it beautifully.

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