When it Rains it Pours, We need to Pour out Prayers

Holy toots, today we got some crazy news. Where my family is there is bound to be drama. With my Dad's side it spurs from my father. With my Mom's side you have two choices: Aunt P or Aunt K's family.

Aunt K is the mom to my cousin M that got the girl preggers, just so you can have a reference point.

My cousin today came out with some startling news. News that if you knew him and didn't take into affect emotions, and thought about how he was supposed to have a court date that has a huge possibility of tossing him into jail (be praying!) you would say...NO WAY he is so LYING. But he cried. M doesn't cry. Ever.

Here is the tidbits of the story I got second hand.

M heard a noise from his sister's room and he decided that it was time to tell the truth: his dad had been molesting him since he was young. My mom got the call to pick him up. And he said to her something along the lines of, "I knew I was probably going to go to jail tomorrow, and I couldn't go to jail knowing that she wouldn't be safe from him. I can go to jail now, knowing she will be safe." And he cried. And cried. and cried.

When my Mom asked him why his mom didn't know, why she didn't do anything. M's response? "How did she not hear Aunt S?" She asked him, "You lived with me for a year, M...why didn't you tell me?" His response..."I couldn't deal with S's (my sister's) looks and judgement." And then he cried. He CRIED. How could my mom NOT believe him, I really think she is on the fence. He needs someone to believe in him. And I do, I believe.

M usually doesn't make sense and you can see right through his lies, or maybe that is just me.

When my mom was telling me this, I fell to my knees on the ground and cried. I haven't fallen to my knees like that since I got the first news that I was miscarrying soon. In the midst of my tears after talking to my mom, I sat on my butt and prayed, and prayed.

My cousin A said nothing happened. But if it happened to M...maybe it did, or maybe it will. About cousin A saying nothing happened...I asked mom...so did they do a swab or an exam to make sure? "No, she said nothing happened." SERIOUSLY? How many little kids are going to be brave enough to say yes, especially if they know they won't get to live with their parents.

But then again A understands what is going on a little bit, because in the past when M lived with my mom she asked her, "Aunt S, if something happens....can I come live with you?" Break my heart into a million pieces.

I just hope they believe M in spite of his lying past. I pray that my cousins will be safe, and be able to be out of that environment. I poured out my heart to God and said shame on me for praying so hard for a baby all the time and forgetting to pray for these two, when something within me since I was in high school has said I would fight for custody if I was older. My mom has always poo-pooed it off. And she kind of is this situation too.

If M doesn't get placed in jail, it is obvious he will not be able to return home. James and I would have to have a serious talk with each other and M, but I would love to extend our home open to him. M has a history of lying, stealing, and misbehaving. BUT with a positive male role model in a loving home M blossoms. I can't explain it, you'd have to see it to believe it.

It is one of those situations where you wish it didn't make sense. I wish I could say things didn't line up. But they do. His history of misbehaving, of fighting with my Uncle, of early sexual behavior, and choosing to go back home from my mom's.

Now I think the reason he chose to go home was for A. He is a good kid underneath it all, just has had a shitty hand dealt to him when it came to parents. Ones that couldn't overcome their past, which reminds me...we honestly know nothing about my Uncle's past. I have always wondered, but he would never talk about it. And now it makes you wonder if there is a reason why...a reason why he doesn't see his kids from past marriage.

So I am asking again for prayer, but not prayer for me (well maybe to be able to have the option to bring him into our home)...instead prayer for my cousins. Prayers that the cops would believe M if what he is saying is true. I say if lightly, because I believe him. I believe. And it makes me feel sick.

 Now I am thinking about having to find the money to buy a 17 year old clothes, food, and help him to become a man instead of a boy in a man's body. Where God guides God will provide. That is what I have to lean on at this point.

Anxiety Overload

Seriously...I am so anxious I feel sick and could cry.

Is no news good news?

No news on my Dad.
No news from KCC.
And still BFN on hpt.

Seriously. I can't take this. I feel nauseated. Because it means more time to dream of things going wrong. All the while praying for the best, praying for good things to be coming my way.

15 months a mark I thought I would never reach is only a few short days around the corner. I want my take home rainbow baby damn it!

I want my dad to be okay.

I want to hear from KCC.

I want, I want, I want. But will I receive? I am knocking and asking...God answer my prayers kindly please.

I am beyond frustrated and fed up. It doesn't seem fair that James and I have to struggle Lord. I am angry, and James is at the place again where we need to love you no matter how many miscarriages we have. And he is right. But I feel broken. Broken and unloved at times. I don't need to hear about how God loves me, I know he does. But I still feel this way sometimes.

Same with my Dad. Nothing has he done that condones me being anxious for him. Other than the fact that I am half of his chromosomes. He was far from an exemplary father. He was an ass. Yet, guess what? I still love him. Seriously. I haven't spoken to him warranted for 3 years now. Avoided him even. He chose not to come to my wedding. He cheated on my mother. He punched me in the jaw. He told me that men would only want me for sex, when I was in 7th grade mind you. I saw him throw a hammer at a TV. Break a cologne bottle because he was pissed. Toss a whole pan of Hamburger Helper into the trash because us kids "Didn't leave him enough." I saw him grab a screw driver, then go outside, and low and behold...there were popped tires on my moms car. When police were called? Their theory...popped with a screw driver. I had a friend over when he shot holes in his boat with a 9mm over the argument that he fished too much and we girl scouted too much. I remember cleaning up flour after mom and dad fought throwing it at each other. I remember him claiming that none of us, except for me, were his. I remember him throwing the phone at me and telling me to go ahead and call the cops on him, but I better be hiding when he got out. Telling him he was an ass, because I couldn't call due to the phone being broke. I remember standing up for myself. And hating men. But needing them at the same time. I remember hating my mom because she stayed. Because she wouldn't listen to us about Dad cheating. And my mom hating James because of all Dad had done to wound her. I remember him slamming her fingers in the dresser when we left to go to grandma's once, might have been the Hammer day. I remember dad telling me Mom shook me as a baby. Telling Stacey and Jo bad things about Mom so there would be problems at home, and so *maybe* they would choose him over her, and thus cut out his child support. I remember bad bad days in middle school and in high school because of him. I remember...so many hurtful painful memories because of the man I call my father, or rather my sperm donor.

I remember him crying and hugging me when Grandma Sawdy died. Occasional fun times together. But the mass of memories with him are bad. How do you get over that?

How is it that I got handed the shitty father card, and the infertility card? I know I got handed a good husband. A pretty good set of friends. And now a house. Good pets. Good siblings. And a demeanor that has for the majority of times allowed me to persevere among the deepest of pressures and stress. So really, they aren't the majority number wise. But they feel bigger.

And I feel small and weak.

And so so broken.