Emma's Story~ Day 5

I wish I could say that things got better due to the pregnancy, but they didn’t.

He was in denial even when the baby started kicking. He would say I was imagining it all. Despite being pregnant; the beatings, the berating and throwing things continued. One day he came home from work and I was exhausted from cleaning the house and doing laundry that day. He told me to remove his shoes and socks just like I had done since day one of living with him. I remember saying “Ay (his name) I’m so tired and exhausted.” I didn’t yell it, I simply stated it. I saw the look in his eyes when I said that and I knew I had a beating coming. I looked towards the bedroom door and realized it was too far to escape to and the front door was closer.

Without thinking, I ran to the front door and flung it open! I was about to run down the stairs when I felt a push from behind and I went stumbling down the two flights of stairs and I landed on my belly. I can still recall that pain I felt! When he realized what had happened and saw the neighbors coming out to see what happened, he ran down the stairs towards me and carried me inside telling the neighbors I must have slipped and fell.

Once inside I was crying from so much pain and all he did was lay me down in the bed and closed the bedroom door. I later learned he took his bath, ate dinner and then left to go and do ministry work with the Pastor all the while his pregnant wife laid in bed writhing in pain!

It was about 11 pm when he arrived home that night. I was still in very much pain and at that point I was bleeding by then. I knew I was losing my baby and I was terrified! I recall him getting into bed and I asked him to take me to the hospital. He said he was tired and had work in the morning. I laid back down in bed and tried to sleep, but I was in too much pain. It was about 2 am when I finally got up to use the restroom and I was bleeding heavily so I went to wake him up. Somehow I finally convinced him to drive me to Fresno Medical Center in Madera. We arrived at the hospital, I got off and he drove off! He just left me there and drove off! I walked into the emergency room and I’m pretty sure I passed out because next thing I knew I was on a hospital bed with my feet in stirrups and doctors and nurses surrounding me.

I was about to have a D&C done on me. When I fell down the stairs and landed on my belly, I had smashed my baby to death. The doctor had to go in and scrape my uterus clean of any fetal tissue to avoid an infection. I remember asking the doctor to put the fetal tissue in a jar for me to keep and he did. Since I was bleeding so heavily, I had lost a lot of blood and so I needed a blood transfusion. I stayed one day in the hospital and then I was released.

The next day, I called him to let him know that I was being sent home and he said he would pick me up after work. After work, that meant I would have to wait almost 5 hours for him to pick me up. I wasn't going to wait that long, so I called the Pastor’s wife and she picked me up and took me home. I called my mom when I arrived home and I told her that I had a miscarriage and lost the baby. She came right over to tend to me and help me. The living room became my new bedroom. I was put on bedrest for 6 months because I was in a very delicate state healthwise. I remember him coming home from work that day, looking at me on the mattress in the living room and then going to the bedroom. He later came out, took a bath and left to meet up with the Pastor to do more ministry work without saying a word to me.

He came back home about 15 mins later and he was pissed! Apparently, the Pastor had told him to go back home and tend to me since I had just lost the baby; Pastor had heard about it from his wife. No one knew the truth concerning my miscarriage until many years later after I divorced him; and now those of you who knew me back then and are reading my story today.

Not a day goes by that I don’t think about my first baby who would be 26 years of age now had he lived. For six months, I was laid up in bed. He had his twin brother and sister come live with us so that they could tend to me. For six months, he did not speak a word to me. I could just hear him yelling in Mixteco (a Spanish- Indian dialect) to the twins all the time. I remember feeling sorry for them because they would be yelled at and things flung at them. He never did beat them though. He would go to work, come home then leave to do more ministry work with the Pastor. When sisters from the church or my family wanted to come and see me, he had to be present and he was never happy about that because then he had to stay home with me and pretend to be the perfect doting, heartbroken and loving husband.

Always #rescuedforhiskingdom