I had my son the day before my 20th birthday on October 14, 2008. That moment was so surreal for me. My baby was so beautiful and he was so peaceful (as long as no one bothered him lol). He was my glimpse of sunshine peeking through the clouds of a deadly storm. I had three weeks with him before my sentencing. I wanted to embrace those moments of joy so badly, I didn't sleep for three days. I'd stay awake and just stare at him sleeping. God... I didn't want to let him go.
When my son's father cheated, it wasn't with just one other girl. It was always two, three or maybe even more at a time. So before my baby was even a day old, one of the other kid's mother's and my former co worker had written under his picture on the hospital website that he was ugly and that he couldn't be his father's child. Another of his kid's mom kept calling and texting me, harassing, per usual. My situation in itself was so miserable only a jealous hate and evil could delight in that. Forget that my son's father shamed me endlessly. Forget that I was incarcerated my
entire pregnancy and now about to leave my newborn baby for prison. These women hated me and harassed me to no end all because they wanted a man they saw as "mine" regardless of how horribly he treated me. It had taken me until that day to realize that the girls calling and harassing would never end. In misery there are no boundaries, which is why I offered none of them the attention they were seeking. They were the very last of my concerns. None of them, not my son's father... no body mattered to me anymore. The only feeling I allowed myself was to fall in love with my son and absorb every minute I could with him.
I won't say the way my son's father treated me didn't hurt me. It did. Crushed my heart. But I HAD to go numb or I wouldn't have made it through my pregnancy. It stung, I cried but I had to find solace somewhere for the sake of my sanity and my son. I didn't expect him to act differently or be a better man. But I DID expect some type of respect. Besides the fact that he had MY car, I shouldn't have had to walk anywhere, shouldn't have had to ASK for money or rides and I shouldn't have had to deal with other women harassing me the entire time.
I didn't
take the case because I thought it was going to change anything between him and me. I didn't take it because I loved him or to prove anything either. They had
offered me the opportunity to make statements against other people too
in return for a deal but I couldn't do it. I had taken the case because I thought that that was
what I was supposed to do. I saw it as more of an obligation than a favor. I was disgusted by his complete disregard for me and I was hurt, yes. But turning my son's father in, or anyone else for that matter, had
never, not once even crossed my mind. I never thought about it, not
even once. And to this day, I don't know why.
I granted power of attorney over my son to my sister. My son's father was pissed I didn't leave my son with his mother (until he was released from jail for a probation violation) but he was too irresponsible, too selfish and too desperate for a dollar. He'd drop his kids off to any and everybody so he could run the streets. I at least wanted the peace of mind that my baby would be safe while I was away.
The first Tuesday that November, I was sentenced to two years in prison. My baby was three weeks old. I'll never forget trying to hug him and say goodbye handcuffed in that courtroom. Seeing his face gave me this overwhelming sense of peace but crushed my heart at the same time. That tore me apart. To this day, I've never felt a greater pain than I did the nights I cried for my baby... never. I cried for him every single night... every one. My sister would send me pictures of his chubby little face that I'd stare at endlessly and I'd call home just to listen to him breath, cry, whatever, it didn't matter I just wanted to hear him; to know he was there. My dreams of him were so real, I'd swear I could smell his hair. I hated being awake. I wanted to hold him so bad.
A couple of weeks after being in prison, I went to shower and realized the milk from my breasts had dried out. I cried silently in the shower but inside I was screaming, yelling, losing more of myself. The smell of my milk reminded me of my baby. In a way, it still made me feel close to him. That was all I had. I felt so empty and hurt. Physically, it pained me to be awake but I'd still pretend I was okay. My soul was broken and empty. I had to find God.
Friday, November 22, 2013
Wednesday, November 13, 2013
Pregnant & On the Way To Prison
In February of 2008, I was feeling ill and went to the emergency room. They performed an ultra sound and there it was; a little baby the size of a jelly bean. Mixed emotions began to overwhelm me, excited about the life growing inside me but disappointed in myself for not being more responsible. My baby's father was in jail (yet again) and I was on my way there.
I called my sister. She and I didn't speak much but before all the mess, she had been my best friend. I cried and cried to her. "I don't want to have his baby," I told her. He was abusive, in and out of jail and had six other children that I knew of. He'd have his preferences of which kids he'd deal with based on his relationships with their mothers. I heard him tell his mom once, "I told ya'll if I don't fuck with them, you don't either!" Then it'd just be birthday and holiday appearances for them if he didn't. I felt SO bad for those babies and here I was bringing another one into the same situation and I myself was facing prison time.
I went to trial in April charged with Delivery and Manufacturing of a Controlled Substance but I wasn't a drug dealer and I knew it was clear the drugs weren't mine so I figured a jury would have no reason to convict me.
My lawyer was horrible. After jury selection and during breaks, he would talk to the prosecutor about their colleagues and what they planned to have for lunch that day, right in the courtroom, right in front of me. I felt so alone in that court room... defenseless.
In the middle of the trial, the prosecuting attorney moved to add the lesser charge of possession, which the judge allowed. I was oblivious to the fact that she could even do such a thing and knew right then that I would be going to prison. I was so pissed at my lawyer and felt so helpless. Sure enough, I was found guilty by jury of Possession of a Controlled Substance. The judge postponed my sentencing because of my pregnancy. I was to turn myself in the next day, remain in jail for the majority of my pregnancy, be released in October for the entire month to be able to deliver my child and then return to court in November for sentencing.
I broke down in the court house. They had to ask my son's father to take me outside because I was weeping so loudly it was disturbing the other courts. I cried to my son's father, wanting for him to go inside and say, "They were my drugs, take me" but instead he was just quiet. He dropped me off at home and left. I'm not sure where he went. I was so numb that day, I'm not even sure if I really cared.
I was taken to jail the next morning. I had told myself not to stress because I didn't want to hurt the baby. But while using the bathroom one day, I saw blood in my underwear. I asked for the nurse and was told there was nothing the nurse could do because she wasn't qualified to deal with pregnancies and that I'd have to go see my OBGYN. They took me to my appointments in the jail jumpsuit, shackled at my wrists and ankles with two officers to escort me. I waited in the lobby, people staring but I was so scared for my baby, I didn't care. I ended up learning I had cists that had burst which caused the bleeding but thankfully they had resolved on their own. My midwife explained to me that despite my situation, it was very important to try to not stress myself or the baby. I promised her and myself that I wouldn't.
The jail became overcrowded and a month later I was sent to finish the remainder of my time in a probation facility, similar to a halfway housing center. There, I was able to wear my own clothing and get passes to go to any appointments I had.
I would call my son's father to pick me up for my appointments and he'd tell me he couldn't and that he was busy. That was a hot summer, lots of flooding and 95* weather. I'd wal, big and pregnant, taking the bus to my appointments and more than once, I'd see him with another girl while the bus passed by.
I'd call him for money for bus fare and food and most of the time, he'd tell me he didn't have it. His friends and their girlfriends would bring it instead. One time, when he did bring money to the facility, I remember watching him leave with another girl, my co worker that had shared the paper around my work place. But I didn't have time to worry about him cheating or what he was doing in the streets. I didn't have time or the emotional capacity for my feelings to be hurt or to hate him. I was getting closer and closer to my due date and thus closer and closer to going to prison. I had to figure out what that would mean for my son.
I called my sister. She and I didn't speak much but before all the mess, she had been my best friend. I cried and cried to her. "I don't want to have his baby," I told her. He was abusive, in and out of jail and had six other children that I knew of. He'd have his preferences of which kids he'd deal with based on his relationships with their mothers. I heard him tell his mom once, "I told ya'll if I don't fuck with them, you don't either!" Then it'd just be birthday and holiday appearances for them if he didn't. I felt SO bad for those babies and here I was bringing another one into the same situation and I myself was facing prison time.
I went to trial in April charged with Delivery and Manufacturing of a Controlled Substance but I wasn't a drug dealer and I knew it was clear the drugs weren't mine so I figured a jury would have no reason to convict me.
My lawyer was horrible. After jury selection and during breaks, he would talk to the prosecutor about their colleagues and what they planned to have for lunch that day, right in the courtroom, right in front of me. I felt so alone in that court room... defenseless.
In the middle of the trial, the prosecuting attorney moved to add the lesser charge of possession, which the judge allowed. I was oblivious to the fact that she could even do such a thing and knew right then that I would be going to prison. I was so pissed at my lawyer and felt so helpless. Sure enough, I was found guilty by jury of Possession of a Controlled Substance. The judge postponed my sentencing because of my pregnancy. I was to turn myself in the next day, remain in jail for the majority of my pregnancy, be released in October for the entire month to be able to deliver my child and then return to court in November for sentencing.
I broke down in the court house. They had to ask my son's father to take me outside because I was weeping so loudly it was disturbing the other courts. I cried to my son's father, wanting for him to go inside and say, "They were my drugs, take me" but instead he was just quiet. He dropped me off at home and left. I'm not sure where he went. I was so numb that day, I'm not even sure if I really cared.
I was taken to jail the next morning. I had told myself not to stress because I didn't want to hurt the baby. But while using the bathroom one day, I saw blood in my underwear. I asked for the nurse and was told there was nothing the nurse could do because she wasn't qualified to deal with pregnancies and that I'd have to go see my OBGYN. They took me to my appointments in the jail jumpsuit, shackled at my wrists and ankles with two officers to escort me. I waited in the lobby, people staring but I was so scared for my baby, I didn't care. I ended up learning I had cists that had burst which caused the bleeding but thankfully they had resolved on their own. My midwife explained to me that despite my situation, it was very important to try to not stress myself or the baby. I promised her and myself that I wouldn't.
The jail became overcrowded and a month later I was sent to finish the remainder of my time in a probation facility, similar to a halfway housing center. There, I was able to wear my own clothing and get passes to go to any appointments I had.
I would call my son's father to pick me up for my appointments and he'd tell me he couldn't and that he was busy. That was a hot summer, lots of flooding and 95* weather. I'd wal, big and pregnant, taking the bus to my appointments and more than once, I'd see him with another girl while the bus passed by.
I'd call him for money for bus fare and food and most of the time, he'd tell me he didn't have it. His friends and their girlfriends would bring it instead. One time, when he did bring money to the facility, I remember watching him leave with another girl, my co worker that had shared the paper around my work place. But I didn't have time to worry about him cheating or what he was doing in the streets. I didn't have time or the emotional capacity for my feelings to be hurt or to hate him. I was getting closer and closer to my due date and thus closer and closer to going to prison. I had to figure out what that would mean for my son.
Monday, November 4, 2013
Shit Hit The Fan
September of 2007... shit hit the fan.
I was reading the newspaper, opened it up and saw my own face in the Kalamazoo's Most Wanted column. My heart dropped to my stomach. It was a Monday. I'll never forget. Ironically, I had just seen the detective from my case the Friday before at the courthouse and he stopped me to ask how I was doing. He knew where I lived, he had been to my house and my job. He could've easily picked me up if he wanted to.
I immediately thought of my family. What would they say? They had no idea what was going on. I barely spoke to them. Feelings of shame and fear overwhelmed me. That detective wanted me to know this wasn't a game and that they weren't playing around with me. I got the message loud and clear. I had an anxiety attack and broke down in my car. I could barely catch my breath.
I turned myself in the next morning and was released on a personal recognizance bond. I almost immediately lost my job. I worked in healthcare as a CNA. My son's father had been cheating with a co worker of mine and she took the paper around my work place. For whatever reason, it humored her. My supervisor expressed the concern that my coworkers and even family members of clients had seen the paper so they had to let me go.
I had a court appointed attorney who, of course, didn't seem very interested in my case or me. I'd tell my son's father I needed a lawyer and he'd say, "They're just going to give you probation. This happened last time. You straight. Look... if they try to send you to jail, I'mma step up and take it. But you gon be good."
"Last time" was when the girl he was with before me had taken a case for him. She received probation on a deferment program and retained a clean record upon completion of her probation. That's what he thought was going to happen to me too. But this wasn't that. Even I could see that. I had federal agents at my doorstep, or whoever's doorstep I happened to be at when they wanted to speak to me. They had a full investigation out on him AND every man he grew up with. Other lawyers and officers I didn't even know would pull me aside and let me know that this was serious and I was in way over my head. That didn't seem to phase my son's father. "Same shit" he'd say. Yeah, alright.
The officers, lawyers and even the DEA would get so frustrated with me and they'd all say, "You think he gives a shit about you?! He's going to let you go down for him and you think he's going to be there for you?!! He's saving his own ass, you better save yours." They all said it... but I never listened. Ironically, when I think of it now, those are the words that stand out the most.
They did offer me probation, though. But only in return for a statement. Though I had a state case, I still met with federal agents to discuss a "deal."
"Make a statement against your son's father in return for deferment." I said no... "Well, do you know 'such and such'? Get close, wear a wire, find out some information and testify in return for deferment." I declined again. They pulled the offer for probation deferment for non cooperation. I plead not guilty to the delivery and manufacturing charge and my case went to trial.......
I was reading the newspaper, opened it up and saw my own face in the Kalamazoo's Most Wanted column. My heart dropped to my stomach. It was a Monday. I'll never forget. Ironically, I had just seen the detective from my case the Friday before at the courthouse and he stopped me to ask how I was doing. He knew where I lived, he had been to my house and my job. He could've easily picked me up if he wanted to.
I immediately thought of my family. What would they say? They had no idea what was going on. I barely spoke to them. Feelings of shame and fear overwhelmed me. That detective wanted me to know this wasn't a game and that they weren't playing around with me. I got the message loud and clear. I had an anxiety attack and broke down in my car. I could barely catch my breath.
I turned myself in the next morning and was released on a personal recognizance bond. I almost immediately lost my job. I worked in healthcare as a CNA. My son's father had been cheating with a co worker of mine and she took the paper around my work place. For whatever reason, it humored her. My supervisor expressed the concern that my coworkers and even family members of clients had seen the paper so they had to let me go.
I had a court appointed attorney who, of course, didn't seem very interested in my case or me. I'd tell my son's father I needed a lawyer and he'd say, "They're just going to give you probation. This happened last time. You straight. Look... if they try to send you to jail, I'mma step up and take it. But you gon be good."
"Last time" was when the girl he was with before me had taken a case for him. She received probation on a deferment program and retained a clean record upon completion of her probation. That's what he thought was going to happen to me too. But this wasn't that. Even I could see that. I had federal agents at my doorstep, or whoever's doorstep I happened to be at when they wanted to speak to me. They had a full investigation out on him AND every man he grew up with. Other lawyers and officers I didn't even know would pull me aside and let me know that this was serious and I was in way over my head. That didn't seem to phase my son's father. "Same shit" he'd say. Yeah, alright.
The officers, lawyers and even the DEA would get so frustrated with me and they'd all say, "You think he gives a shit about you?! He's going to let you go down for him and you think he's going to be there for you?!! He's saving his own ass, you better save yours." They all said it... but I never listened. Ironically, when I think of it now, those are the words that stand out the most.
They did offer me probation, though. But only in return for a statement. Though I had a state case, I still met with federal agents to discuss a "deal."
"Make a statement against your son's father in return for deferment." I said no... "Well, do you know 'such and such'? Get close, wear a wire, find out some information and testify in return for deferment." I declined again. They pulled the offer for probation deferment for non cooperation. I plead not guilty to the delivery and manufacturing charge and my case went to trial.......
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