Monday, September 7, 2009

TRUE STORY: You Don't Mess With Momma!




Reuben was only 4 months old when it happened. He was a good baby. He was a beautiful baby. Most of all he was MY baby. Remember that throughout this blog, it's very important.

When I was pregnant a whacked out singles minister of my church literally went behind my back and arranged for my son to be adopted because I wasn't married and was about to give birth. I was called into the church office where I was introduced to the female attorney who held in her hands a cashier's check made out to me for $50,000 (the signature was not legible, and I doubted at the time that the real benefactor was named on the check to begin with.) I was told that my son, who was due in just a few days, would be cared for, he would be loved, he would be provided for in ways I was unable to manage. The check would assure me a good and fresh new start; it was suggested that I move to another city and even perhaps to another state. My signature on a paper was required of course.

Now, a Christian woman isn't suppose to do what I had done. A Christian woman wasn't suppose to find herself in this situation; I was to be happy and joyful even that the church had found a home for my illegimate son and I was to be pleased that he would be raised genteelly and with a family that could afford to give him what he needed.

I don't know if I cussed first or just ripped up the agreement nearly taking off the hand that offered it. I'm not sure I swung or not, but I was certainly asked to keep this matter to myself and not make a scene OUTSIDE the office as I was clearly making INSIDE of it. I do remember walking out of the office with enough fear and anger in my heart to set fire to the entire mess of them, but even I knew that would be wrong - - justified perhaps, but wrong....at least illegal, right? Hell, the word "REUBEN" is literally translated "Behold MY Son" MY SON!!

Well, March 22, 1986 found me sitting bolt upright with a painful stab in my belly so severe I thought I would have just collapsed and died from it. However, God in His ways let me have a few more equally and then increasingly stronger punches one right after the other for no more than 4 hours before the joy of my life was finally assisted into the world and laid to sleep in my arms - - all 6 pounds 10 ounces of him. All 21 full long inches; blue eyed and bald - with a winking right eye. Doctor said it was nerves. Sometimes I remember the wink and think "No, no, it's not nerves Doctor, he's up to something." The wink is always followed by a smile. ALWAYS.

As it turns out the singles minister and the church was right about a few things: I couldn't afford this kid. I didn't have money to cover his needs. I didn't have what it took to raise a baby anymore than I had sense not get myself into that situation in the first place - - but I was there, and it was my situation, and Reuben was most certainly MY baby. I turned him over to God on his third day of life; asking God Almighty not only to protect him, but to never take him from me, never.

Reuben was about 4 months old when it happened. A man thinking his girlfriend Melissa still lived in the little house I lived in began banging on my door demanding entry saying he wanted his baby. He wanted his baby and he would kill to get him. I grabbed the phone but it was dead. The man was laughing at me through the window and was literally looking for something heavy to smash the glass with so he could gain entry. There wasn't a backdoor and only two windows. I was trying to see out one and protect the other by shouting out to him that I wasn't Melissa and my baby was not his baby.

All the while I was screaming, pacing, and frustratedly trying to figure out what I could do to protect my son, I did have the wherewithal to put Reuben in his bouncy seat and put him inside the closet with a light blanket covering him. It was August and even though it was 9:00 at night, it was hot. My electricity had been cut off earlier in the week and I was waiting on Friday to roll around to get it turned back on again - - it was dark, I was scared and my baby, God bless him, was sound asleep not aware of anything whatsoever happening right before his little eyes.

In near pitch darkness, with the light from the pole on the corner beaming in just a little, I was able to find duct tape and two strong kitchen knives. Using my right hand I taped one of the knives upward to my left wrist. It was harder to do the 2nd, but I did manage; all the while screaming that my baby was MY baby. God only knows how Reuben slept through my ranting, but he did.

I positioned myself on the back of the couch and in seconds the door was broken down with a fast and hard kick of the world's most freaked out would-be kidnapper "YOU WON'T GET MY BABY YOU SON OF A BITCH, I'LL KILL YOU FIRST, I SWEAR TO GOD!" Well, OK...I said more than that, worse than that, but it's public blog you know - - should keep it somewhat tame, right?

It didn't take the man long to see for himself that I wasn't Melissa - - whether or not he could see the gleaming lights from outside bouncing off the knives, or if he just saw them when I lowered them to gut him - - I don't know - - he ran. He ran and I cried and I wondered deeeeeeep deeeeep inside if I hadn't been too selfish not giving Reuben up. I wondered if he really would have been better off being raised in a wealthy renown home with fireplaces, plenty of food, morning newspapers and card games on Thursday nights....maybe a minute passed before my son cried for me. Maybe 4 seconds passed while I used one knife to free one hand and the other to do the same on the opposite side - - maybe I never had those thoughts again; all I know, and I mean this with everything I have - - HE IS MY BABY. Sometimes I wondered if when Reuben was in combat in the middle of Iraq - scared and/or thinking about his mission and trying not to get too emotional if he didn't somehow find the duct tape and the knives in the back of his head to be somehow comforting...because I would in a heartbeat pack my cutlery and head off to the Middle East if I thought someone was gunning for my son...at least I did in my heart, and he knew that.

My girls came into this world under such different circumstances and to be sure they have their own stories of how mom caused public scenes for and because of them - - all I can say is - - YOU DO NOT MESS with a momma's baby. EVER. LOL

1 comment:

Andy said...

I love this story. You are a fantastic writer, keep up the good work.