Story of My Life: New Parents

The first death I ever vaguely remember, was my aunt's, who had taken me and my cousin in and raised us since we were babies. I don't remember how I felt about her passing. I can only imagine if I understood what was happening that I would have been very sad. I do remember that she looked like an angel.

My uncle could not take care of two young children by himself and the family wanted to make sure we were taken care of. So it was decided that my uncle's youngest son and new wife, who could not have children because she was unable to conceive, would be the ones to take us in. We moved out into the country with them very shortly after my aunt's passing.

We lived in a meager trailer home for a few years with our new parents. We were adopted by them and were baptized when we were 5 years old. I don't remember a whole lot when I was this age. I think our family life was okay. My new parents started building a new two story house on their property and we moved into it.

My new mom was very strict and proper. We always had nice things, were taken care of and were expected to be good children. I remember having a very girly pink room and nice clothes and toys. My dad worked while my mom was a stay-at-home mom.

Then, when I was 8, my mom and dad weren't getting along. I found out later in life that my mom was cheating on my dad. This made sense to me because one time I remember my brother and I were outside in the cold waiting for the school bus. We waited for a very long time and the bus was not coming. We were so cold. We went to tell my mom that the bus wasn't coming and she told us to wait outside for it anyway. I don't remember if anyone was at the house with her, because I was really little. But it makes me wonder to this day. My mom and dad ended their marriage and got a divorce.

Then the custody battle began. We started out living with my dad for a little while. Then, when I was 10, the courts decided (not sure why) that my brother and I could choose who we wanted to live with. This was not necessarily a good decision. We were just little kids and were put right in the middle of a nasty battle. Both my mom and dad said bad things about each other and promised us things to try and sway us to live with them. In retrospect, I don't think either one of them were fit parents. My brother decided to stay with my dad and I went to live with my mom in Detroit.

I don't remember the circumstances, but we went to court another two times. The second time we went to court, my brother wanted to come live with me and my mom in Detroit. So custody was given to my mom for both of us. When we lived with my mom, things were pretty much the same as when we first lived with her. She took very good care of us, providing for us, and was still very strict. My brother usually got into a lot of trouble, where I rarely did.

Things took a turn for the worst when my mom met her new boyfriend. He was an older man who had a mean streak. I don't believe to this day that he actually liked kids. And he was even more strict than my mom. This was a very bad thing for my brother and affected me significantly as well. We hated this man.

My mom did not help the situation at all. She seemed to encourage his behavior and even began to get meaner than before. She used to hit my brother a lot. And with any item in reaching distance. When we got into trouble, for stupid things I might add, we would have to go outside in our backyard and find a switch (a branch that had fallen off our big tree) and bring it into the house to give to my mom's boyfriend. He would then take us downstairs to the basement and make us pull our pants down while he beat us with the switch. And, the next time we got into trouble we went through the ritual again and he would add to the number of times he hit us from before. He made us count out loud how many times he hit us with the switch. I was a terrified little girl and my brother became a very angry person from it.

I remember me and my brother at age 13 sitting on our front porch wishing the bastard would die and we talked about running away. We were scared little kids that didn't know how to get out of the situation.

We called and talked to my dad and told him we wanted to come back and live with him. We went to court again and custody was granted to my dad.