PROVEIT2METESST
About: Haven
(This is factual stuff about my son, Haven.)
The months after Haven was born were really not a great experience.
After twice unexpectedly losing the ability to communicate with my eldest - and at the time of loss, my only child - while they were in a completely unhappy and unhealthy situation thousands of miles away at the hands of their irrational, uneducated, abusive, and selfishly-motivated father (who'd they'd never met and who I only knew when I was 16 years old - see this site's subpage In re the disappearance of), I didn't get one cupcake the entire time. I'm not even kidding. Click this area for more deets.
When my son Haven was born, I didn’t have a place to live. His paternal grandparents insisted that Haven and I, along with their son, Max, come to stay in their home, an oddly-shaped structure quite near Lake Washington in Seattle.
No one in my family and none of my old friends, no one I'd ever known knew that I'd been pregnant or that I had a new child,
not even my 18 year-old Child #1.
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Haven's dad, Max, and I weren't a couple during or after my pregnancy.
In Max's parent's home,
I devoted my energy and thought to Haven. I took care of him day and night, and often stubbornly refused offers of help. When he wasn't sleeping or trying to eat, he often cried, loudly, his face pitifully twisted in pain. During and after every feeding, he spit up large amounts of what he'd taken in. I later learned his painful stomach issues disappeared as soon as he was able to switch to whole milk and baby foods.
I sang to Haven often throughout the day, many songs I made up just for him. I did my best to empathize with him and his experience as a newly alive creature, and tried to keep him as comfortable in his helpless infant body as possible.
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Living with Max in his parent's home quickly magnified the deceitful, hostile, and violent parts of Max's personality that I had previously witnessed.
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While I stayed at Max's parents house, I was Haven's caretaker nearly 24/7. Without exaggeration, I can say that I did not leave their home during the first 30 days I was there. I never once complained and was very happy to be with my son in a home where we were told we were welcome.
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I tolerated physically violent attacks from Max during my entire tenancy in his parent's home. Making more than my initial report of Max's over-aggressive behavior, which I did begrudgingly after insistent prodding during a direct confrontation by Max's stepdad, seemed like it would jeopardize my charity-bestowed, temporary place to live. And so, aside from the aforementioned, I didn't tell anyone about how I was being treated, and I didn't know how to stop it. Even if I had taken on a completely submissive and compliant persona, I'm certain Max would have found a cause that necessitated his random violence or eventually found a way to cause emotional and/or physical damage through excessive abuse of my compliance.
I wanted to be with my son; I knew that no one in that house, or anywhere on this planet, would make the efforts I did to establish and maintain Haven's comfort, safety, and happiness every day. If I didn't have a stable place to live, I wouldn't be able to provide the care for Haven that he deserved. I knew that Haven's needs weren't prioritized by anyone but me - a person who'd had minimal motivation to live until Haven was born.
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I didn't leave the actual property for about 30 days, though
Leschi Park was so near-situated that one could readily
believe that area of park was the house's' lawn and to walk
through that part of it, you were trespassing on someone's
private property. I didn't walk the few hundred feet to Lake
Washington, where there were a few pricier restaurants
and a grip of busy, local businesses, a marina, and a
public access pier.
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When Haven was 3.5 months old, "the parents" told me I had a week to leave the home.
The week prior, I had been approved to lease an apartment and had all but $500 needed to move in. I had exhausted each and every other method of getting the move in money required before taking residence. Max and his parents were my very last resort.
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Haven's father and his parents both separately declined assisting me financially with the move. The apartment was a mile from their Leschi home, situated perfectly for easy shared parenting. I was never given a clear reason why I was told to leave, but I assume it was because Haven's father had stopped exercising any discretion in his treatment of me and had even been violently harming or physically implying threatening to harm me while I held and cared for Haven.
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When Max made repeated indications to his parents that he wanted me out of the house, they made me leave. Recall that upon our arrival around 10 weeks prior their voluntary assurances that they would never do such a thing if I had no place to go. I believe Max wanted me gone because I began to deny him sex and related activities, despite his direct demands for it. After some recent information I came upon, I also believe his drug dealer-girlfriend-Michelin Tire Man stunt double BFF *big fat friendly* BFF *best friend forever* has been a constant sumo wrestler on his shoulder, nagging him with what he should do about my presence in his life (be rid of it/me). She has a very heavy influence on his behavior - even the way he speaks and texts. Sometimes, it's almost like he looks up to her or idolizes her somehow - he thinks she's so cool. Really, though. He might even think those words in his head, but in a more Gretchen-y way (the name of it is Gretchen aka Wonwwr).
He told me back then, and continues to stand by his conviction that if I don't put out for him, he won't "help" me, which means he is going to do everything he can to destroy me and the stable living and monetary situation I have singularly trying to rebuild for my children and I for far too many years now.
I left, but had nowhere to live. Haven's grandparents began to act nonsensical and even belligerent in our communications, as if I were a threat, as if I were doing something wrong, though I wasn't doing anything aside from contacting them or Max about seeing my newborn son, as they were no longer keen on the presence of my sleeping body in their residence. They began to restrict my previously unrestricted time with Haven, until I wasn't able to see him at all.
Weeks later, I was upset enough to feel justified in
asking Haven's dad to give me money for a hotel. He
picked me up later that day and told me that he was
paying someone to provide out of the home child
care for our infant son instead of allowing me to care
for Haven during the day. I had been pleading to
act as his child care provider (for free) for nearly a
month. After the nightmarish month of overwhelmingly painful mourning at the loss of my newborn son, I couldn't contain my overwhelming, frustrated anger about the unexpected
information and Max's unreasonable refusal to discuss the situation any further with me.
True to his character, Max tried to get out of the uncomfortable situation by avoiding the discussion and attempting to ditch me - an act he easily maintained during my entire pregnancy, which left me on the street until 2 days before I went into labor, while he lived with his on-off girlfriend and small-time drug dealer usually within 5 miles of me, as he ingested as many illegal substances as he desired for free and had sex with the mentally ill, obese person that he, once again, was spending his life with (Max lived with this person for most of his adult life, and at the time of my pregnancy with Haven, had never leased an apartment or even a room on his own before.)
SPD stopped the fight when they arrested Max. They
had seen him take my purse from me and throw it,
then try to physically force me from the vehicle. He
was released from jail on the condition he have no
contact with me. The no-contact order more solidly
kept me from my son. The father broke the order
many times, but refused me any amount of time with
Haven unless I agreed to pay him for my time with
my son with adult relations.
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