The Walking Wounded: The Results of Bad Relationships – Wounded Children
"Dear sperm donor, thank you for the lovely birthday wishes. Oh that's right you probably forgot again." - My youngest daughter (Yesterday, was her 24th birthday and the ‘sperm donor’ has NEVER wished her a happy birthday – NEVER! He is also on her Facebook friends list because she found him.)
This breaks my heart. I have done my best to tell her she is worthy, beautiful, talented, and valuable and she doesn't need to be validated by the 'sperm donor'. But what does a mother do when her child's heart is broken? When she sees her child as the walking wounded? I feel so helpless – so useless.
The 'sperm donor' and I grew up together. We were best friends. We got along very well. I moved away to California, had gotten married at 17 and divorced by 18 with a son as a product of that marriage. I returned to Kansas City, had a quick fling with a 'loser' which produced my second child (my oldest daughter). I was pregnant with my second daughter when my youngest daughter's 'sperm donor' contacted me. He told me he had searched for me for years.
Here I was six months pregnant with another man's baby, and this guy wanted me anyway. I wasn't in love with any man. I just wanted to get through this pregnancy, graduate from the college I was attending, and move away. However, I didn't believe I deserved better than what I already had. So, I allowed another DBR (deadbeat beyond repair) into my life.
He did everything for me. He took me to my OB/GYN appointments. He cooked for me. He cleaned for me. He ran errands for my mom, and watched my younger siblings when needed. He was my best friend; but I was not in love with him.
When I went into labor, he was there. He was there when my oldest daughter was born. He wanted me to put him on the birth certificate; but I refused because I did not want him to be on the birth certificate. I was not in love with him. For some reason, I could not hurt his feelings. So, I told him I had put him on the birth certificate.
He finally went into the military; and he asked me to marry him. I agreed but I did not love him. On our second day of marriage, he had to return to Chicago to complete his military school to become a Hospital Corpsman. His cousin picked us up from my apartment. When his cousin got out of the car and hugged me, my 'new' husband punched me in the face, and told me to never do that again. I was stunned but did not believe I deserved better.
When we were stationed in Oakland, CA he began beating me every day. I stayed for 8 years; and the only reason I left was it had come to a violent head. My baby (my 24 year old) was upstairs in her crib while her father and I were fighting like two men in a trashy bar. When I heard her cries, I knew I had to leave. She was only 8 months old. He told me that if I left him he would have nothing to do with my children. For my son, he was the only father he had known. For my oldest daughter, he was the only father she had known until she met her biological father at 9 years old.
So, for you ladies who have not had children, I beg you to not make the same mistakes. The hurt. The pain. The agony of the absent father is heartbreaking. No matter how hard I worked. No matter how much encouragement I provided to my children, nothing replaced that void in their hearts. So, all I do is cry and I cry often. Those DBR BM are horrible human beings. I procreated with non-humans - with soulless shells; and I did it three times. How unlucky can one woman be?
I take complete responsibility for my actions. I had to share because minority BW women need to understand nothing is always as it seems. No matter how hard I worked, how much I sacrificed to provide a stable home for my children that included a father and a mother, it just wasn't enough. I did not have role models. I was literally on my own to figure life out since I was 6 years old.
By the way, their reasons for having nothing to do with my children? I would not return to them. Yes, that is the truth. Because I refused to return to them, they punished my children. How much more must I sacrifice to bring stability and happiness to my children's lives? I loved my son's father. My oldest daughter was a product of a one-night-stand. My youngest was planned; but not because I was in love. If only I could have a 'do-over'.
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Christelyn Denise Karazin is a health, lifestyle, business and education writer for such high-profile publications as Womans Day, Better Homes & Gardens, Ebony/Jet.com, Pregnancy Magazine, Reuters News Service and many more.
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