Chapter 3
He made dumplings from scratch with only his hands. I did not remember until today. In fact, I did not remember at all. My four year old daughter did the remembering for us.
She said, “My Dad made me dumplings and fed me by hand.”
It was only when she spoke those words that I had remembered he did the same thing to me when we first met; before I was ever pregnant with our daughter. I asked her how she remembered since she was so small when her father left for prison. She was only 19 months and one day old when she last saw her father. The last day she saw him was on extremely bad terms. It was the day she witnessed her father repeatedly stab her pregnant mother. I am not sure why I was surprised that she remembered, as she had remembered that horrible night too. She still does and she tells her brother about it more than I would like to hear.
He is only two years old now, and she always likes to remind us.
“My Dad tried to steal you from me. My Dad tried to cut my baby.”
The baby being her little brother who was in my womb the night of the stabbing.
Now, I have a little baby boy who has never seen or even heard the voice of his father from the womb, walking around my house, saying, “My Daddy cut me!”
He did not actually cut him. While there was a stab wound from the last blow to my stomach region, it missed my son in the womb. He was born a strong son via VBAC (Vaginal Birth After C-Section).
My daughter is starting to tell me of the good memories she had of her Dad. Alongside, the bad ones. I feel like this is all a part of the healing. My own father was abusive to my mother and I still loved him immensely. I can only imagine that my own daughter also loves her father, regardless of what he has done wrong. Abuse is funny in that way. It is not always abusive.
Whenever I have a chance to settle and find safe spaces, I use that time to educate myself on domestic violence. I have learned about the honeymoon phase. The preceived good times that come after an abusive partner feels guilty for hurting you. These are times that often come with home cooked meals, hand picked wild flowers, and pleasant public presence. The abuser appears to become a model husband and parent at home and helps out at your child’s soccer practice. What I know from experience, is that these things are wonderful and make you feel like the person has changed. It gives you hope and a belief that love can actually heal and grow.
Sadly, most of the time in the honeymoon phase, the abuser bottles up all their emotions; the anger, judgement, jealousy and rage. Eventually, the emotions erupt like a volcano, each more destructive than the last. The first time a slip happens, there is a little lava spilled. The second time it might set off an earthquake or a tsunami. Any more after that just continue to try and wipe out all life on the island. I felt like the only living thing left on an island. Ironically, he was born on an island, and I felt like I was living on one that I could never escape from.
I saw different counselors about him both before and after he stabbed me. One of them put the “good times” into perspective for me. She was a wise Muslim woman and she said that we women must always remember the worst behaviour that a man can exhibit. That we must act accordingly and practice extreme caution around a man who has already shown us what they are capable of. This is hard for women to do because we are naturally nurturing and gentle human beings. I do not wish him unwell. It even breaks my heart when I hear my daughter tell me that her Grandpa Ghost went to where her Daddy lives to hug him. Grandpa Ghost is how she refers to my late father. My father was much like her father. Both men were kind and gentle in their own ways when they wanted to be. However, both could also be extremely dangerous. Therefore, as women we must train ourselves to see the danger; more than we see the good, for our own survival. It is a sad state when living with this perspective and mindset as it can run the risk of creating a constant environment based around fear.
Fear can feel like it cripples us. I think it actually does. To constantly live in fear leads to all sorts of problems from adrenal fatigue to insomnia. We are stuck in a neverending loop of the ‘fight or flight’ response, and wake to the smallest sounds. I have to be completely honest, I still live in fear. I have not conquered it. I hope to one day. I intend to fight my own mental battles and to end my fear. I have to admit that the dumplings were the best that I had ever eaten in my life. Despite this truth; it is hard to eat dumplings with no teeth. So, I will pass on those delicious delicate dumplings.
