It's about time

There are parts and pieces of my life that are more than hard to acknowledge.  I am not sure that I have the right words but I feel the need to try.  Aug 22 2003.  This is a date that forever changed my life that made me a mom that completely and forever changed the course of my life.   I was in a not so great place.  It was after I had testified in Boston and I was falling apart.  I didn't care about anything anymore.  I didn't believe that I had done enough, to protect Angela.  I didn't make a big enough difference, I put my self through hell and for what,  I felt like what I did didn't make a difference.  I felt more than lost and so alone.  I wanted nothing ore than to be a part of something, I wanted people in my life I wanted to find happy and for just once I wanted nothing more than to just feel happy.  So talking to Charles that morning, I truly believed we were going to go shopping and get lunch, and if even for a small time, I just was going to be just a girl.  I was so excited getting ready, I was that giddy kind of happy without a care in the world. So many things that I should have known but didn't.  

He was late, he said he couldn't find my house.  I gave him a hug as soon as I saw him.  He smelled like smoke which I more than hate,  but I didn't seem to care really. I did care but totally ignored it. I was ready to go, but all of the sudden we are taking a tour of the house and we end up in my room.  I remember pointing out the mobile that I had above my door. It was round with many multi colored birds on it.  It was supposed to keep evil doers away. Looking back kind of ironic that I made sure and pointed that out.  There were so many red flags and I overlooked them all.  Why would he want to see my house, a tour and end up in my room ?  I didn't notice; my need to be a normal girl and just be was so strong.  I can remember saying over and over but we are supposed to go shopping.  Somewhere in my head the panic was setting in,  because I   kept saying it over and over. He wasn't listening to me. Over and over, but we are going shopping. I think my brain was more than afraid and I wanted to believe anything but this was happening. I remember his sunglasses fell off and he rolled on them and they broke and I felt guilty.  And it wasn't until the last year I realized, that he put that pillow on my face. Pillows don't just fall on your face. They are put there to make you be quiet.  They are put there to make the pleas and cries stop ,  The second I saw the pillow coming, the panic in every cell of my body froze .  I remember feeling it on my face and just like that I was gone. I was far far away. No memory, no feeling, no nothing. 

I don't know if I have the right words.  I know what happened to me,  because I have Vincent and Marika but in that moment there is no memory.  Once he put the pillow on my face I was long gone until he was finished. After the pillow the next thing I remember is him getting off of me, and putting his clothes on, I can hear the sound of his belt clanging.  Then he went to the rest room. I rolled over and the tears wouldn't stop.  So in my head I was just an idiot, I was once again a stupid girl making stupid decisions. I made excuses, the pillow fell on my face and he didn't listen to me, But it was so much more than that.   He didn't stop when I told him to stop  He didn't listen when I pushed him away and said we were supposed to go shopping. And just like that he was walking out the front door admiring his shiny BMW.  I just remember having a long shirt on, and I stood there watching him walk away, I was in a state of shock.  This was not the morning that I had planned on.  

Just like that in true Callahan Fashion I cleaned up made everything nice and neat and I cried and cried. This was just my life.  A girl who so desperately wanted to belong and be normal being hurt beyond measure.  Life went on.  Numb to the world.  Until I wasn't. 

2 weeks later the morning sickness started,  I was sick all day everyday. Thinking it was just the Flu, then the realization,  this wasn't the Flu at all. 

I took a test.  Two pink lines.  I laid on the floor and cried with my dog Rizzo.  From that second on everything as about my sweet babies.  Everything before that moment didn't matter and wasn't a part of my story.  Literally Charles was not a thought.   

There were comments from the ones I loved the most, that still hurt thinking about it.  The one from my mother about how they were going to look like little monkey's.  And the one from my brother that they were going to have N** lips.  That was the environment I was pregnant in.  Their words were like daggers, these were my babies that they were speaking about how dare they say those words.  How dare they talk about my children like that. 

I can remember telling Jason that I was pregnant and he was more than shocked and his first questions were was I doing drugs or drinking. No it wasn't. I never said what happened.  I can just remember thinking I have to heal and be well by the time that my babies were here.  They were all that mattered.  They were always the good thing that I was grateful for.  I am sure that if I would have told Jason he would have done things different.  He would have said something and made me feel less awful.  But I just couldn't.  These were my babies and they were going to be what I focused on.  And from that point on all that mattered was them.  

When I went to my first Dr appointment and was asked about the father, he was so far removed that I thought he was talking about my father.  I started talking about how he wasn't a nice guy and wasn't in my life, the dumbfounded look on the Dr's face.  It took me a few minutes to realize he wasn't talking about my father but the father of the children that I was carrying.  I didn't have words, and I can remember things being silent for a minute.  I could not answer those questions. He was so far removed from my mind,  Everything was about them. 

And I continued that way for a very long time.  They were all that mattered.  After they were born when I went for food stamps,  once again questions were asked about the father I couldn't answer their questions.  I didn't have the information that they wanted and the case worker threw a pen at me across the table.  I was devastated. I can remember crying and I went in the car to nurse Mariska.  I am not sure how not one-person asked questions, because of my reactions, but no one did. So I carried the secret.  I carried it hard.  I put all of my attention into my beautiful children,  they were mine and all that mattered. Every six months I had to renew food stamps and my stomach would be a mess because each time they would have questions and my answers remained the same.  I didn't know.  

I felt so much guilt and shame.  I was the one who made those terrible choices.  I was the one who wanted to be normal, wanted to go out with him.  So many feelings . I can remember listening to a song by sara Mclaughlin  Fallen over and over that I had so screwed up. 

I was angry at myself for wanting to belong, angry that I didn't see so many red flags. Angry that once again I believed that someone was good and kind. 

And life went on.  

I had my beautiful babies.  I was more than happy, they were all that mattered.  I never took better care of myself.  I had precious cargo growing stronger everyday.  I was so happy.  I loved every second of feeling them move, and hearing their little hearts.  I would sit in their room and rock in their chair thinking about all the things we would get to do together . There were so many wishes and dreams that I had for them. 

It wasn't until they were in Elementary school that I called what happened to me what it was and I wasn't even the one who said it.  I was in counseling with James,  we were talking about the kids and he asked something about their father.  I am sure that my heart stopped because what happened to me didn't matter.  They were the ones who mattered in all of this. So I started talking and I had always looked at it like he just didn't listen to me.  I was a slut and he didn't listen it was that simple.  I can remember sitting there in his office and hearing his words .....Did he rape you ?  And the world stopped for some time.  I shrugged my shoulders.  I know we talked more but all I could hear were his words ?  Did he rape  you?  In my head it was going to be easier to tell them that their mother was just a slut who deserved it than a rape victim who got pregnant. I held on to that, I thought it was the best for them. It was a process. One that took lots and lots of time to think about and try to figure out.  There is no rule book for something like this.  There are no right answers. There are no easy questions.  I was aware that as they grew up there were going to be questions for them and that was going to be a struggle and not something that a mom can ever really prepare for. 

As they grew there were times it was in my head, times I struggled.  I once saw him on my way to school. I stopped the car and got sick.  Once I got to school I called James and told him I just saw him.  I was terrified, that look on his face, he knew what he had done and he knew who I was.  It was hard driving that road for a long time.  Because as they got older the thoughts of him grew and I didn't know what to do.  When they were in middle school, during a trip to Colorado we had the conversation that he wasn't a good guy, and he didn't listen but that was the extent. Vincent cried,  I just held him reminding him how I loved him and that he mattered more than anything. I told Mariska the same thing later sitting at the dining room table and she cried.  Neither of them had any questions really. 

It wasn't until later talking about it last year with Mark, that the pillow didn't just fall on my face.  A pillow doesn't magically just cover a persons face.  I had tried their whole lives to make me the slut the bad guy the one who made all the wrong choices.  Mark put his hands in the air, and like dropped a pillow and it hit me hard.  For the first time I realized that he put that pillow over my face.  He did that on purpose,  he knew exactly what he was doing.  That is something that is so crazy.  There was no amount of words to calm my inner storm.  Those moments were life changing and literally took my breath away. 

Still my children are all that matter. They are truly all that matters.  As they have graduated and are moving on to new things,  there are pieces of what happened to heal.  There are things I struggle with that are my pieces to carry .  They are things that they will have to carry because of me and I will forever be sorry for that.  I struggle that Vincent identifies more as black,  there is a part of that that kills me that feels like a betrayal.  But I am your mom why doesn't that matter.  I have to remember that no matter the race of charles Vincent is Vincent regardless.  Someday I hope he can talk to me and we can have those needed conversations and he can understand.  I have to see things different.  I am working on it really hard.  

This is one of those things no one askes for, I can promise I would do it all again to have them to get to be their mom.  There are certain challenges that we all face Vincent Mariska and I.  We all will face them differently, some together some alone. I have learned conversations must be had and their is no right way for them to go, these are uncharted waters.  There is only one Mariska.  There is only one Vincent and how they process this is theirs to own.  But I hope they always know that I am here,  I am here to answer every question the best that I can.  It is my hope that they know I have so loved them from the very second I knew I was going to be their mom.  They were always all that mattered.  Now as they become young adults their are pieces of the story that I have to heal,  that I have to allow myself to be free from. This is our story and someday I have to believe that it will make a difference and we will all be free.

My beautiful, amazing children this is for you.  I love you more than you can ever imagine.  

I heart your heart.