My Testimony - Part 2

I warn you, you might want to grab a tissue if your a sensitive person. This part of my testimony will be a little harder for me to write, and probably a little harder for you to read.

Mom and I are out of church. We still pray and talk to God, and we still read our Bible. It is really hard for a young child to read and understand the Bible without a teacher of some sort. I know it came to a point when I stopped reading my Bible. Mom has pretty much always read her Bible, she still does.

I don't want to go too "in-depth" into my childhood because for the most part it was boring. I do have to go into some pretty painful things for you to truly get the whole picture. This is definitely the hardest part for me because I have to admit the things I've done wrong. It makes me sick, but here goes.

I mentioned in part 1 that my dad was an alcoholic and that he came to get me every other weekend and in the summer. A lot of those weekends he would be sitting in a bar drinking and my step mom would send me in to get him. There were many weekends that I was at my dad's that I didn't really spend any time with him because he was spending time with the bottle. My dad would drive home drunk and pass out in the driveway, the second he turned off the ignition. I knew that eventually alcohol would kill him, but I prayed so hard that it wouldn't.

My dad didn't go to church. My step mom did though. I remember right after I was saved, I asked my dad if he was saved. All he told me is that he was too mean to go to hell. He laughed and so did I and that was pretty much the end of it. I didn't even push the conversation. I would regret that years later.

I remember when I was real young, my dad came to get me for the weekend and my mom wouldn't let me go. I remember crying and screaming and begging to go to daddy's house, but she kept saying no. Dad called the police but they wouldn't make mom let me go with dad. I will never forget that day as long as I live. I was talking to my daddy through a window screen in the bedroom, begging and begging and mom made someone come in there and make me stop. This memory haunts me.

My mom and dad didn't part on good terms so they used me as a way to hurt each other. Mom would constantly talk about dad, then when I told dad he would start talking about mom. I was told things about my dad that no child should ever have to hear. The things dad told me about mom were things that I seen with my own eyes. Regardless, it was very traumatic for me to have to hear all of those things about the two people I loved most in the world. They thought they were hurting each other, but I was the one getting hurt.

I believe my mom had good intentions and really loved me, I think she was just very insecure and was afraid that I might love daddy more than her. I know she didn't want me to like my step mom, and eventually she planted so much in my head about my dad and my step mom, that my step mom and I hated each other. It didn't help that one day my step mom beat my sister with a high heel shoe and I had to carry her to her bedroom. I threatened to kill my step mom that night, and I was young too.

I remember one weekend, daddy came to get me for the weekend and my step mom told him that he didn't ask her permission to get me. They fought and the next thing I knew my dad was telling me that I had to leave. My own dad was making me leave because his wife didn't want me there. To this day that still makes me cry.

My sister, who lived with dad, ended up having to move out because it got so bad. It is hard to think that my dad chose a woman over his kids, but I guess he did. She moved in with my Godparents who lived across the street. One night she got a gun and had it pointed across the street, waiting for my step mom to come home. I really believe she would have shot her if she could. That is how bad things were then.

As I grew older, I learned to tolerate my step mom. We knew we didn't like each other, but I loved my dad and I wasn't going to let her come between us. My step mom had my younger sister when I was seven years old, and when she got big enough, she started beating her. We told dad, but he just escaped it by drinking.

You throw a few more stories like that in, a lot of drinking, a lot of fighting, and that was pretty much my childhood. I did have some good times with my dad, don't get me wrong. We had several good weekends and vacations that I actually spent some time with him.

While some of all that was going on, at DC's house (my step dad), he played the part of a good dad for a while. One day his dog attacked me and I had to get stitches in my ear and my in my head. He was mad because he had to keep the dog tied up. Him and mom started having problems, and according to mom, he got mad when I called mom to come and get me at dad's because me and my step mom had gotten in a fight. Mom says that DC wanted me to spend the whole summer with dad so that him and mom could be alone.

One day when I got off the school bus, the dog that had attacked me came running toward me and I fought to get back on the bus. Mom ended up getting the dog and I went in the other door of the house, DC held the door shut and wouldn't let me in. Then after I screamed (because I was terrified of the dog), he let me in and then called me a baby. Right after that mom and DC split up.

Mom and DC dated years and years after they split up. I always thought it was funny that they got a long better divorced than they did married. I got over DC calling me a baby and letting the dog out and we became good friends.

Forward many many years. I am now a teenager and stupidity has taken over. I was a good kid until my teenage years...I had my first sexual experience at age 13. That is every mother's nightmare. To be honest, I truly believe that I was looking for love and acceptance. I knew my mom and dad loved me, but at times it seemed like it was dependent on what I did or didn't do. My parents don't even realize the emotional scars I have that were caused by them. I am not blaming them by no means, I am responsible for every single one of my actions. I just know that I was searching for something that they weren't providing.

When I was in 9th grade, I started dating a Deacon's son and started going to Hardin Baptist Church with him and his family. I was enjoying church and realized that I needed to change and tried hard to be a better Christian for a little while. He was a senior and I got to go to prom with him, which was pretty cool. This boy broke my heart by dumping me and asking out one of my best friends.

Years went by and I am now 17. I met Stanley about a year before he asked me out. Finally he asked me out and I said yes. He was 28, which I lied to mom and told her he was 21. She later found out and was mad at me but she liked Stanley and so she let us continue to date. That was in July of 1991. I fell in love with Stanley almost instantly. I knew in my heart that he was the "one". Shortly after I found out I was pregnant but then I had a miscarriage. Four months later I ended up pregnant again with Austen.

Stanley and I got married on April 10, 1992. I turned 18 on May 14. In September of 92' Austen was born. Things started going downhill from there. I was young and so naive. I got a job working afternoons and ended up committing adultery with a co-worker. I never thought in a million years that I would cheat on Stanley, I loved him so much.

My life was a living hell after that. Stanley was so hurt that all he could do was torch er me with what I had done. I was so miserable that I took a whole bottle of Ibuprofen, hoping I wouldn't wake up the next day. It didn't kill me, but I didn't have a headache for a month. I then got pregnant with Tanner, and then when Tanner was two months old I found out I was pregnant with Coty.

We lived in a small trailer. We had three small kids. We couldn't afford to buy anything we needed seemed like. We were both miserable. Stanley thought we would make it, I was ready to give up. I got another job and ended up committing adultery again. This time it didn't bother me so bad. I wasn't happy and I was looking for a way out. We weren't living the kind of life that made anybody proud. We did a lot of stupid things.

I filed for a divorce and then I found out I was pregnant again. The man who got me pregnant was now seeing my sister (she didn't know though), and made it clear that he would not be a father to the baby. I told Stanley that I was pregnant by another man and that I needed to leave (we were still living in the same house). Stanley asked me to stay. I thought he was crazy to still want me there, but he did. Abortion was brought up and tossed around, but I couldn't do that. God had different plans than I did, he was going to use this to better me, I just didn't know it at the time.

A few months later I was at mom's dealing with the drama she had forced upon herself. She had gotten custody of my brother's kids, and he didn't know it and was coming to get them. I believed what my mother had told me and so I was trying to keep the peace while keeping my brother from taking the kids. I got beat up in the process. I went to the ER and they said the baby's heartbeat was fine and sent me home. The next day my doctor scheduled an ultrasound and we found out that things were not ok. We also found out that the baby was a girl. Stanley and I had wanted a girl so bad.

It is really hard to be pregnant with another man's baby while living with your ex-husband/boyfriend. It is especially hard to be pregnant with a black man's baby while living in a very racist county. Stanley and I started getting closer while I was pregnant. He knew she wasn't his baby, but it was like he didn't care. We thought I was going to lose her. I was on bed rest for the rest of my pregnancy. We just grew closer and closer. I know now that God was using this situation to change us.

I eventually went into labor. My first natural birth. The boys were all born by C-section. I remember when they told me that they could see a head full of black hair. I told Stanley that I was sorry. See, I was hoping that she would be his, even though I knew in my heart she wasn't. Once I knew she had black hair, I knew that she wasn't his.

I still remember the look on Stanley's face when she was born. He was so happy, his eyes were lit up and he had "happy" tears in his eyes. I kept apologizing to him, but he insisted that I had nothing to apologize for. I realized at that moment that Stanley really did love me. I knew I loved him, but once we got married things changed so much that I didn't feel that love from him anymore. I felt it now.

I'm not saying that things were perfect between Stanley and I after Brianna was born. But things were better, a lot better. We started really loving each other. He absolutely loved Brianna, and she was such a daddy's girl. She loved him so much. He would pull in the driveway after getting off of work, and she would run to him with her arms open wide. She knew who her daddy was and they were inseparable.

I am sickened by the person I became in those years. I have always had a good heart, everyone always thought I was so sweet and nice. I know a lot of those people changed their minds, and that's ok. To have done all of those things after I was saved ... it kills me inside. I hurt so many people, but most of all I hurt God.

The next part (and hopefully the end) will be about the years leading up to where I am now and how God got my attention. This part will be the hardest for me to write because of the loss I suffered. It is the most amazing part though. Until then, God bless you!