Last week was my daughter's second birthday; all I could afford was a couple of $1 toys. Am I angry? No, I'm furious. As of the end of this month her "father" will owe almost $19,000 in child support. I can't understand why something is not being done about this; nor can I understand why it took the courts 17 months to establish child support.
Let me take a step back and start from the beginning. I fell in love with a man from Korea three and a half years ago. At the time I had no idea he was unemployed because he lived in a $600,000 home on a golf course, drove a BMW, Jeep Cherokee & a Ford truck and proudly hung his Masters Degree from CU on the wall. Every day he would dress in a suit and tie for his job at the capitol building; he had also been personally appointed by the Governor to serve on a volunteer committee for the developmentally disabled. His family has money; a lot of money.
In his late forty's, he wanted a family right away. I moved in shortly after I became pregnant. Things really began getting bad once I moved in and my pregnancy progressed. He began verbally abusing me as well as my other children. It began as small bits and pieces being chipped away from me daily.
I know there are many people who discount the effects of emotional abuse; I used to be one of them. It's the methodical process of brainwashing these kinds of men go through to make a woman feel worthless; like no one else would ever want me.
When you hear those things every day, and you don't have the support of the people who really do love you to counter the effects... well... you start to believe it. It's really hard to undo the effects of that kind of brainwashing. It's a process almost refined to a science. Isolate a woman and eliminate any possible threats to their control, then destroy any confidence she may have in herself.
I was a self-made business woman with a house and a comfortable financial situation when I met him. He saw me as a challenge to break down and destroy. I know this because he told me.
During my pregnancy things began to fall apart. I found out that his suit and tie were just for show. Once I left for work, he'd get in his sweats and play on the computer all day; mostly on sex sites looking for local women.
I found out later that his parents give him about $4000-$5000 a month. If he needs more, he gets it. I was isolated from my family. He tried to ban my 10-year-old son from my life. Not my daughter though, no... he found my 9 year old daughter "sexy".
The two times I reacted to him saying so, he explained to me that I was over reacting. I think this is the point where most people would simply label me as purely stupid, but the thing is, I was far into pregnancy and terrified of being homeless and alone with a new baby. I thought I had a handle on things. I thought that I was the one in control because I actually did see through him. I thought I knew what he was capable of. I was wrong.
One morning I woke up to the most frightening feeling. I couldn't breathe. I literally could not breathe. It jerked me from sleep and I realized that he was choking me. I freaked out. At first he laughed and said it was a joke. When he realized I was packing my clothes he explained to me that he was asleep when he was doing it and he didn't know he was choking me. Yes. I was stupid. I accepted his apologies, I never believed him, but I accepted his apologies.
Five days before I gave birth to my daughter, I was lying in bed with him. It was like 4:00 in the morning. He'd finished a documentary on the psychology of serial killers and occult leaders the previous night. He started explaining to me how he related to serial killers. He understood why they do what they do and the enjoyment they get from it. I was 9 months pregnant, laying next to the man who's child I was about to give birth to listening to him explain to me that he would kill my ex-husband first, then the two cops that arrested him when he was in college.
I was horrified. I was speechless. The solemnity in his voice was unreal. It was like he was laying there telling me about his day... like there was nothing wrong with the sentences he was forming. I was afraid to even breathe. Eventually I crept out of bed and cowered in the shower until the sun came up. He had gone back to sleep. I was afraid to leave. Not just because I would be homeless. I was afraid he would kill me.
My two best friends were there at the birth. That made him very angry, but he could not show it because we were in a very private but public setting. You know, we were in a private room, but there were nurses and doctors and my midwife in and out of the room all the time.
When my friends showed up, it just made it more difficult because they saw right through him. One is a very strong woman; and very wise one too. As it turned out, I had my friends on either side of me when I finally gave birth. My son woke up just in time to watch his little sister enter this world. The moment they took her to the table to clean her up and do all the things they do to newborn babies, he began hovering.
He would not let them perform the tests on her or give her the vaccination I'd signed for prior to giving birth. He kept telling the doctor and nurses that they were holding her wrong and they were being too rough. Not once did he come to me and ask how I was. My wise friend told me that she watched it happen; that the moment my daughter was born, I ceased to exist.
In the hospital his whole family insisted on standing over me while I breast fed. I mean, literally, they stood around me, looking down at me while I tried to feed her. When I asked for a little room, I was told I was being selfish.
His father would get right down and examine my nipple and talk to the family in Korean so I had no idea what they were saying. It got worse when we got home. When his family wasn't there hovering, he was. Every single feeding (including all nightly feedings), he would stand over me with his arms crossed scrutinizing me.
He started telling me I was doing it wrong. I have two children that were breastfed until they were over 1-year-old. I know how to breastfeed. My milk supply began deteriorating. My daughter began starving. Of course, the blame fell on me. I told him we needed to get some formula to supplement her feedings. When he returned from the store he explained to me that we would stop the attempts at breastfeeding because I was purposely starving our daughter. He was crazy and irrational. He told me that I'd lied to him, that I knew perfectly well that my breast milk had dried up. I cowered in fear, simply agreeing to everything he said. When he'd finally regained his composure, he was full of apologies. I never did stop trying to get my milk back in.
When she was about 5 days old she got very sick. She would not stop throwing up. Again, this was adamantly blamed on me. I caught him grabbing a bottle that had been sitting on the bed post for about 2 days. I asked him what he was doing and he told me that he was going to try and feed her. I explained in shock that he could not feed her that bottle because it was 2 days old. He explained to me it was the same bottle he'd given her yesterday. It was funny, because now that it was his mistake that made her sick, I was suddenly making too big of a deal out of it.
The whole thing was followed up with a thousand apologies, of course. During this conversation he made me an offer. While I sat there holding my 5-day-old infant, he offered me $40,000 to hand her over and walk away.
I just sat there, once again, speechless. I told him he could have offered me $40 million and the answer would still be the same. He proceeded to tell me that if I ever left him, that if I ever took his daughter away from his family that he would find us. He said that he would kill us both. He said that he would kill her first so that I could watch what I loved most in this world die; then he would kill me. There was nothing but danger in his eyes. Though he followed it up finally with a smile explaining it was a joke, his words were absolutely real. I believe to this day that if he had the chance, he would kill us both.
I had told him that you weren't supposed to take a baby out of the house until they were at least two weeks. I read that somewhere; it keeps the baby's immune system from outside germs. The real reason I'd told him this was because he really wanted to take her over to his parent's house.
His parent's were less than clean. I admit it- I used it as an excuse to not allow him to take her over there. Well, she was 12-days-old and I wanted to take my new baby out to show her off so I'd suggested I might take her to the store. BIG mistake. He saw right through me. I'd confirmed his suspicions that I'd only been using the two week thing as an excuse. It sent him into a frenzy. I knew there was a fight coming and both of my older children were there. I sent my son back into the bedroom with his sisters. He hit me with the mop handle in the head three times. We got into a screaming match; I'd decided I wasn't going to cower this time. My daughter came out from the bedroom and told me that the baby was crying. I walked away from him and went to get the baby. He followed me. He stood there, watching as I unbuckled her from the swing. He was consciously waiting for me. With her tiny body in my arms, he knew I was absolutely defenseless. When I turned around, he grabbed me by the throat with both hands and threw my up against the mirror on our dresser. He continued strangling me while I clung to her, praying I would not pass-out and drop her.
There he was. My little boy. He was standing there next to us screaming at this monster, "You leave my mom alone! You leave my sister alone!" My little boy had become this ten-foot tall man, facing down a monster. He was so fearless. He was so strong. He was
David facing
Goliath. Even though I was struggling to breathe, clinging to the tiny body of my newborn baby, believing wholly that I was about to die and I'd never felt such a surge of pride in my life.
My little boy was my hero. Funny thing is, he really turned out to be. He could not believe this little boy had the audacity to stand up to him. It caught him off guard. He turned his attention and focused his anger on my son. His hands loosened from my neck and I grabbed him with the only weapon I had available. I bit deep into the muscle of his thumb. It was the only injury he sustained. I bit down as hard as I dared. I thought about biting through, it's the only regret that I have; that I didn't bite his thumb all the way off.
He swung at my son with his left fist and grazed his head. He's wiry and swift, he ducked with good timing, but the blow did land, just not hard. He started punching me in the stomach. He punched our baby in the back. Later he blamed it on me because I should not have been holding her. When he realized I wasn't letting go he got right up in my face and demanded I let go. I couldn't exactly talk with his thumb clinched in my teeth, but I was asking him if he was going to calm down. He got what I was trying to say and promised me he would calm down, I just needed to let go of his thumb.
Unfortunately, I did. He had the upper hand again. I thought he'd been wracked with a touch of sanity and the fight was over. It wasn't. It was far from over.
He immediately grabbed me by the throat again and threw me on the bed. I was caught completely off guard. When I landed on the bed, my daughter bounced out of my arms. She fell to the right side of me on the bed, she was screaming. He straddled me, pressing down as hard as he could on my throat. We had a 1-year-old Bull Mastiff that had gotten very riled-up by the fight, understandably so.
He was bouncing on the bed next to us. He was trampling the baby. I couldn't fight back because every ounce of my energy was put into getting her back in my arms. With the dog so freaked out, I kept getting these images of him scooping her up with his teeth and taking her into the back yard to use her as a chew toy. I'm not sure what happened next because I blacked out for a minute. When I came to, he was tearing after my children and the baby was still next to me on the bed.
His words kept running through my mind. He would kill her just to spite me. I couldn't leave her there. I scooped her up and ran into the hall headed for my son's room. The truth be told... had he just focused his beating on me... I'd have probably stayed. It was watching him go after my children; that's when something clicked inside me. He swung at my boy again; again, he ended up with a graze on his head because he ducked. I went in and yelled at him to leave my children alone.
He turned his focus on me again. This time we were in the hallway. Again he strangled me as I held out 12-day-old daughter. I held her out and with the little breath I could get out I said, "Look at her. Just look at her." I was hoping that somehow, seeing her would bring some kind of sanity to him. He didn't even turn his head. He looked me square in the eyes as he tightened his grip on my throat and said, "Shut the f**k up, you f**king cow. Don't you understand that I'm going to f**king kill you?" I still hear it reverberating in my head. I will never forget those words.
I blacked out again. I believe he actually thought he had killed me. I don't think I was out for too long. I woke up still in the hall and I could hear my older daughter screaming in the back room. I can't allow myself to imagine what his intentions were, but she'd become his new target. I again picked up the crying baby and put myself between him and my kids. She was trying to run out the back door. I still have no clue why I told her to stay inside, but I did. I looked in the doorway and there was my son with the phone in his hands. I grabbed it from him and there was a voice on the line. It was the voice of my ex-husband. I screamed the only thing I could think, "Call 911." At that very moment it came to my attention that I was holding a phone. I hung up and I called 911. Can you believe that man stood in the doorway dumbfounded? He looked at me like I'd just peed in his Wheaties and asked," Did you call 911?" At that point I was screaming hysterically to the 911 operator to send the cops. He looked at me and said, "That's it, we're over!"
Duh.
He left in the BMW. The 911 operator told me to lock us in the room. I did. I cried hysterically. She calmed me down, explained to me that my kids needed me sane. I've never heard the 911 tape. I'm not sure if I ever want to, but now that things are said and done, I am curious to hear it. The cops and paramedics showed and while we were being checked out his brother called. The cop answered the phone and I could only hear one side of the conversation. I heard the cop say, "Sir, I can't help you with an eviction. That's something you're going to have to work out with the victim some other time. I need to know where your brother is."
All of that and he's asking about evicting me. The entire family is crazy. When we left the hospital, I had to go back and get some things. I got out of the car and his mom rushed up to me and asked me what happened. I lifted my arms to show the deep bruises covering my arms. There was more skin bruised than not. I told her that her son had beaten me up. I've got my own blood all over my clothes, I'm covered in bruises and she looked at me and said, "No, your fault, you get out." Are you beginning to understand why he became what he is?
Two days after the incident I'd gone in to get a restraining order and he'd already tried getting a one against me. Once again, his audacity left me speechless. In the end, his attorney had him drop his restraining order because he had no basis for it. I was granted a permanent restraining order against him.
My family and I spent 7 months homeless because the Victims Assistance assigned to my case lost my phone number. We lost everything. In the last two years I've been to court more than 25 times. His family hired an expensive lawyer for his criminal case. After a year and a half he was finally found guilty of one count of child abuse. The DA didn't want to let the case go in front of a jury because the court date was 8 days before Christmas and she said the season tends to sway jury's to be lenient.
The DA called me in November. She asked me if she could offer him just the child abuse and drop the domestic violence. At first it felt like a punch in the gut. I felt like she was asking me to pretend it didn't happen; like it was invalidating the fact that he abused me. My gut reaction was to tell her no- we're going to trial. I sat there at my desk crying because I felt like I was being nullified. I looked down and right there on the mouse pad I'd gotten the night before was a picture of my daughter. I told the DA to make the offer. It was a more solid deal and it allowed me to walk into family court and state that this man is an admitted child abuser. My sacrifice made my daughter safe and I now understand that nothing can ever invalidate what he did to me. Nothing.
The courts did nothing about child support until my daughter was 17-months-old. Like I said, he is $19,000 behind in his child support. They can't garnish his wages because he's completely supported and protected by his family. They failed to intercept his stimulus check and all they've done is revoke his driver's license. We are in a constant struggle. I can't even put dinner on the table (I can't even afford to buy a dinner table!)and he's still sitting in his cushy $600,000 house and he just bought a Porsche. Where is the justice? Why is my daughter falling through the cracks? I put my life on the line to protect my daughter, how can I protect her from a system that won't lift a finger for her?