Mammaw’s Advice

I decided after much soul-searching to fill in the gap between the year I graduated High School in 1989 and that day in 1991 when I drove home from Marshall to find EH’s Cadillac in the driveway.  I was not really sure if I could put it on paper for the whole world read. However, in order to do this story truly authentic, I cannot leave out anything no matter how private, embarrassing or painful.

So here we go…I always felt going to college, a seemingly impossible task, was my only path to freedom.  I had a wonderful guidance counselor who worked tirelessly to help me obtain a full scholarship to a 4 year Christian college in Kentucky. I arrived the summer of 1989 for orientation with my suitcases donated by a women’s group full of hope fr the first time in my life. Finally, I was away from the chaos and in charge of my own life. I was determined to break the cycle of domestic violence, poverty and make something of myself. I think people would say was a pretty good kid in high school if they remember me at all. I never got in trouble ort sneak out and go to parties. Of course that was because I was terrified of getting caught by my step father but it was effective. I had been dating the same guy for the last 5 years. We met the summer before my Freshman year and I had no other boyfriends other than him. Looking back now that I am a mom of two sons, I can only imagine his mother was terrified he would marry me and inherit my crazy family. I remember one night in 11th grade my mom and step dad were in a particularly nasty fight during a terrible thunder-storm. She was screaming to get help but the phone was out. In my night-gown, in the storm, I ran to his house and started banging on his door. His poor parents opened the door at midnight to a soaking wet, shoe less girl crying and asking them to call the police. What a sight I must have been. They were always so kind and supportive but I am sure there were many conversations with them about how I was no good for him. I would have had the same conversations with my boys. That night the police were called and as usual in that small town, nothing happened. This was a cycle I can remember from the age of 8 until she left him when I was a senior in High School.

Back to 1989: The summer of hope! I was getting to know campus, my job and classes when I noticed I was nauseous a couple of mornings. Panic set in immediately and I flew through denial and anger all at once. This can not be happening to me! Sure I had become sexually active the last couple of years but the last time I had sex was weeks before….prom. Really? After a week of being sick, missing a couple of classes I went to medical to confirm what I knew, I was pregnant. How stupid could I be? Maybe I deserve everything that has happened and will happen. I started spiraling into a pattern of self loathing and hopelessness. This was a Christian college that did not allow pregnant students to live on campus. My boyfriend and I had just broken up a couple of weeks before but he did offer to do the right thing, whatever I felt that was. I prayed a lot, cried a lot and went for some campus counseling.

I decided to go home for the weekend and maybe open up to my mammaw Barb (my dad’s mother), she always had the answers. I arrived to my mom’s who had moved yet again and was shacking up with a young former Marine (how ironic right). I remember seeing his dress blues and cover in the closet. I also remember that there was no refrigerator and my little sister was eating out of a cooler. All of her clothes were in a garbage bag. My brothers were living with their dad and his new wife. That was not an ideal situation either but it was the best of the two options. I felt so helpless. Even at 18 I felt a sense of responsibility to get myself a secure future so I could get custody of them all. How I was going to do that now? I got in the car and drove to mammaw’s house.

As soon as she opened the door of the trailer, I fell into her arms sobbing. No matter what was happening in my life, she was my security blanket. That trailer, those warm and loving arms, the smell of cornbread made the world stop swirling around me and everything calmed. It was like being in the eye of a hurricane. She told me to sit down and she would make me some milk and bread (this is taking cornbread and crumbling it up in a glass of milk and you eat it with a spoon, amazing). I was so ashamed to tell her what I had gotten myself into. She had told me over the previous 5 years that the boyfriend I was with was not the man I was meant to marry. She seemed to be very sure about that somehow. As I told her everything and waited for her response she gently cupped my face, kissed my forehead and said, “eat your milk and bread and we can take a walk”. As we walked up the holler, the Kentucky hills wrapping us in beauty and peace we talked. We talked about her life and what she had wanted for herself. She told me about the decisions she made and why along with some fun stories about her growing up. We talked about my options and possible outcomes of each and how she felt all of them were hard and brave. We talked about god and his possible judgments. By the time we made it back, I had a clearer picture of what I wanted for my future and what I needed to do. We had a bowl of pinto beans, cornbread and fried potatoes and looked at old photos. She promised to keep my secret (and she did).

I drove back to my mom’s house to say goodbye to my sister and then back to school. Even though I was sure the decision was right for me at the time, that did not make it easy. Remember, it was my faith that had kept me from committing suicide in my teen years and it was the same faith that was being tested now. I found a friend that was willing to take me for the appointment. There were protesters outside that not only pulled at my shirt but also at my heart and soul. Do they understand what I have been through? Where I would end up if I didn’t walk in that door? Do they continue to stay in contact and support (emotionally and financially) with the ladies that they pressure into turning around? I steel myself and walk forward saying nothing, feeling everything. Sitting in the waiting room I remember looking around wondering if everyone was there for the same reason? Did they know why I was there? I heard my name called and followed the nurse into a small room where she counseled me on my options again and the process.

One day, it would be the right time. One day, things would be better but today is not the day. Was my childhood responsible for where I was now? Possibly, but I take full responsibility for what happens next. After the procedure I threw up several times on the way back to school. Even now, 29 years later I can feel the bile rise in my throat. I missed several classes, not because of physical pain, but mental, spiritual and emotional pain. About a week later, I got a knock at my door from the RA for our floor. She explained that the college had found out about my abortion and had scheduled a hearing for me to attend. Walking into that room was surreal. It was like a court hearing with the adults on one side of a huge mahogany legal table. They didn’t even ask me to sit. They told me they knew about my abortion and that I had been missing classes. They said my actions did not align with the College’s student standard and I was being suspended. I felt numb. I could not believe what was happening. After all I had been though, after what I had just done to keep my life on track I was back where I started. I tried to plead my case. I cried, no I sobbed in front of them and there faces showed no compassion or support. I packed up my things and drove back to my moms thinking it was exactly what I deserved.

I enrolled in Marshall University for the fall and walked through the semester like a zombie. I drank, partied, punished myself and frankly don’t remember much else. The holidays came and went and I registered again for spring classes. Every channel on the TV seemed full of negativity. We were in a recession and the Middle East was full of unrest with Saddam Hussein’s threat to use chemical weapons. The world seemed as chaotic as my life. My life seemed to be moving like a time-lapse video.

You know what happens next in my serendipitous life! I will start to learn that while I might not hold my own compass, I can choose how to navigate my own path!