Thank you for your letter dated April ??, 2013 which was in response to a letter I sent to you nearly an entire month after a letter I sent to you. Why you felt the need to point out the fact that I happened to neglect to date that letter that I sent, I find very curious. Please make your client clearly aware of the following facts:
1) I find that Sara’s refusal to allow Austin to have Skype-to-Skype brief visits with me, his father, utterly absurd and yet, totally consistent with her controlling, narcissistic, alienation tactics. Whatever “recent events” you might be referring to, there is NOTHING I have done that should prevent me from being able to electronically video conference with my son! — Rest assured, I WILL be motioning the court to address this!
2) Since Austin’s mother is doing her best to try and eliminate me from our son’s life, I am doing the best I can from long distance. The truth is, my disabilities caused by my heart transplant, are prohibiting me from moving back to Minnesota where I have no physical aid to help me in my day to day activities. As such, I have been highly motivated to let Austin Berg to know who is REAL Daddy is and who the “Berg” side of his family comes from. I have been making several videos and pictures that I want to share with him during our family get togethers, which, I intend to share with him. I have even recruited the help of Austin’s cousin, Zander (whom he has never met), to help me read through a Bible story book made for kids. My intent is to upload the videos to a special YouTube account that Austin should be able to view anytime he wants. — My request is that, Austin will have free access to that website, which he will be able to view on his own, pending his mother’s approval.
3) I have NOT abandoned my parental rights! Nor have there been issued any kind of restraining orders against me. Therefore, do not be surprised if I happen to show up for doctor’s appointments, parent-teacher conferences, or church events. I have already contacted Austin’s principal, letting her know that I am determined to become more involved in my son’s life, which I do and will.
4) I had already informed Sara that my Social Security Disability benefits were being reviewed. I found out in March 2013 that my request for continuation were being denied and +
In any event, I find Sara’s continued attempts at alienating Austin from his true father extremely disturbing. I know that Austin is forbidden for referring to me as his “dad” or “daddy” (he has only ONCE referred to me as such). Additionally, Sara has done NOTHING to PROACTIVELY ENCOURAGE Austin to have a good, and healthy relationship with his father. She has ONLY done the bare minimum that the court has required of her. – Even though Sara might continue to hold the false belief that I was unfaithful to her in our marriage, something that I actually believe about her and yet have been able to forgive her for, and, as such, since she claims to be an Evangelical Christian, I do not believe her marriage to Garrick Wexler is legitimate, either (legally but not biblically).
In any event, even though Sara had no biblical basis for divorcing me, we are now legally divorced.
In fact, the absolute opposite is true.
Even though Perspectives is no longer a program available for Austin and I to participate in since they no longer offer
(and, that is NOT only because I was terminated because of my troublesome disease of alcoholism that I’ve been suffering from)
<p>Tonight’s weekly call to Austin. Austin told me how much he really, really liked the video game “Ice Age: Dawn of the Dinosaurs.” It sounds like he has been playing it a lot. He says it’s got levels that he has to get through.
I woke up 45 minutes later than I wanted to today. Even though it’s Saturday, we still have treatment. But, I was just SOOOO tired from not having had decent sleep from the previous two nights, I just crashed lastnight and did not feel like getting up at all! So, at 8:46am, I looked at the clock, jumped out of bed, and was out the door walking to the hospital in the frigid air wearing myflip flops and no coat. I didn’t get to the hospital until 9:15 and thought for sure I would be the last one there. I wasn’t. Two other guys showed up after me.
Oddly enough, I have really REALLY enjoying this experience at this treatment program I’m in at Mercy Hospital in Janesville, WI. The addictions counselors are really cool, and the exercises they’re having us do and discuss are very enlightening; providing us with ways to examine ourselves, the ways we communicate with others, how we see ourselves in the future, understanding the nature of addiction and how to achieve and maintain sobriety.
Today, we did this interesting exercise in which we had to write a letter to our future selves. The idea was to write it now, seal it up, and then only open it up for some designated date sometime in the future, (i.e. one year from now, five years, ten, etc.). I decided to take a different approach, though. Instead of sealing it up, I decided I wanted to write it out, and then tape it to my mirror, to be read every morning.
Since we only had about 10 – 15 minutes to write, I just started writing out things as they came to mind which I plan on re-ordering and expanding on later.
On September 22, 2013, I, Steven Berg:
1) WILL not have taken a single sip of alcohol since the time of this writing.
2) WILL no longer be dependent upon ANYONE else for my basic, fundamental living needs such as, housing, transportation, food, clothing, etc.
4) WILL have regular, consistent and in person contact with my son, Austin.
5) WILL have as my primary circle of close friends, people with whom I share the same religious beliefs and moral values (i.e. active involvement in a Bible-believing church)
6) WILL be reconciled (as much as is possible) with my family and close friends who have somehow been hurt by my addiction to alcohol.
7) WILL have a clear and defined path for completing my MBA.
8) WILL be financially responsible by living according to a pre-determined, reasonable budget.
Exactly five years ago yesterday, at about this exact same time, I took my then pregnant and then wife, Sara to Fairview Southdale Hospital in Edina. She had been complaining of contractions for a few hours and knew it was time to go. After several grueling hours (well, only about 6 or 7), we were the proud parents of a beautiful new baby boy, Austin William. For the very first time, he had witnessed the odd sensation of dryness, the sound of his own screams, and the wondrous glow of flourescent lighting.
It’s sad to say, but this would be the first and (so far) the last time that Austin and his beloved and devoted daddy would be together on his birthday. Neither of us suspected that 10 months later, his mother would unilaterally decide to tear us apart.
July 22, 2006 Austin and I have only been able to be together every other Sunday for two measly hours at third-party family community center where our visits are supervised. I broke my foot/heel a few weeks ago and have been hobbling around on crutches ever since. I have also been staying with my parents in Rockford, IL for most of the summer here. They very gracisoulsy frove me up to Minnesota last Sunday in order for me to be able to spend time with Austin. I was able to bring him a couple really cool new toys, (a Thomas electric train track and a Cars electronic learning toy). He loved them both and it kept us occuppied for the entire time. I know that the arrangement we have is pathetic and I am working as hard as I can to get things changed, but it’s just going to take some time, effort, and money. (In addition to having to take Sara back to court, I’ll probably also be suing Hennepin County for mishandling our custody evaluation — I’ve got the evidence to prove it, too, which I’ll be posting in separate posts on this and other blogs). In the meantime, if anyone would like to send my baby boy birthday wishes either through an electronic card or whatever, he can be reached via his mother’s email address at: Sarae624@gmail.com or snail mail at: 13608 Fernando Avenue, Apple Valley, MN 55124. (It doesn’t matter whether you know him or not! I just know he would love it!). For those reading this, take care and God bless!!
To this day, I still don’t know who the gracious donor was who gave his or heart to replace my broken one that 10th day of November 2008.In May of that year, I had just been through a devastating custody battle and divorce. I lost nearly everything I had ever worked for, including my beloved one only little boy, Austin. Except for this year (2011), he and I had never been together for Father’s Day even ANY of his birthday’s. (The only reason I saw him on Father’s Day this year, is because it just HAPPENED to fall on one of our SCHEDULED visits.) He is going to be 5 on July 22nd through the machinations of my ex-wife, I am still only able to see him once every 2 weeks for 2 hours at a time through SUPERVISED visits.Right after the divorce, I suddenly lost my job as a consultant working for Target Corporation in downtown Minneapolis — a job that I absolutely loved, but because of all the stress and demands of the divorce, I had to miss a lot of work and just wasn’t able to perform to the best of my abilities. As an IT Consultant, I had never had any trouble finding employment. So, I assumed it wouldn’t take very long to find a new job. I owed over $40,000 to my attorneys and was still being forced to pay my ex-wife over $1500 in monthly child support payments.I spent the rest of the summer frantically looking for work, but to no avail. Physically, I started feeling weaker and weaker, for reasons I couldn’t understand. Because I had previously been under my wife’s health insurance, through the divorce and my sudden unemployment, I was not insured, which was the reason I didn’t seek out medical help.Nevertheless, my condition only continued to worsen. I was only getting $200/week in unemployment benefits (over $300 was being garnished and sent directly to my ex-wife for child support. I became almost totally unable to take more than 10 steps at a time without having to rest. I couldn’t climb more than a few steps at a time, and often needed the help of my roommates. I often skipped meals because it required way too much energy to cook for myself.Since I knew that I had highly marketable skills, I never imagined it would be that difficult to land a job. But, the amount of time lost due to hospitalization and recovery, resulted in my being loss of a desirable commodity than before the divorce. I have been vigorously fighting against this ugly, and deliberately distorted stigma, which has been unfairly branded upon my previously immaculate reputation, ever since that divorce.On August 14, 2008, after 3 totally sleepless, painful nights I yelled for my roommate to call 911. The crushing sensation whenever I lay down prevented me from getting any sleep at all, and I would just spend the nights crying in pain. I used to be somewhat wealthy and successful, owned a few rental properties, and making a very good living along with my wife. Now, I felt like I had become such a wisp of a man who couldn’t even take care of himself anymore. I was only 29.When the paramedics came, and as I was being gurneyed out to the ambulance, I remember thinking how potentially embarrassing this was since it might only turn out to be something stupid such as panic attacks. I was taken to Hennepin County Medical Center, where, after only an hour or so, I was informed that I was in an advanced stage of Congestive Heart Failure and had double-pneumonia. Needless to say, I was shocked and scared. My family drove up to Minneapolis from Rockford, IL (where I was born and raised). Since I wasn’t able to care for myself, I moved there along with them. It was shortly after that, at a local hospital that wasn’t qualified or equipped to handle transplants (very few actually are), that my family was pulled aside into a consultation room and told that I was definitely going to die and that they should prepare themselves for it. I had no idea that it had become so serious and was too drugged to know that I was jaundiced and that several other of my organs and systems were failing, too. (This hospital usually sends such critical patients like me to the University of Wisconsin. But, because I was still uninsured, they wouldn’t accept me.)Out of desperation and determination, my sister, Sue, wasn’t willing to give up. She many several calls, emails, wrote letters, etc. appealing to ANYONE and EVERYONE for help. Miraculously, one hospital responded to her plea and within hours, I found myself being strapped into a helicopter bound for Christ Advocate Hospital on the south side of Chicago. After about 10 days there, I was later transported to Northwestern Memorial Hospital in downtown Chicago, which had a more established heart failure practice.During that time, my entire family came together and helped me out. My sister was (and still is), my medical power of attorney, my father was able to get me enrolled in Illinois Medicaid and Social Security Disability, my mom spent many, many nights with me in the hospital during my ordeal and would often bring me my favorite white chocolate mocha from the Au bon Pain restaurant downstairs, and my aunt and uncle allowed me to live with them for several months during my recovery.After I had finally been cleared to be put on the organ donor recipient list, (UNOS), I was expecting to have to wait several weeks or even months before a new heart became available. Within only 3 days on the list, on November 9th, I received a call in my room at around 10pm. They found me a new “Cadillac of a heart!” It was up to me to make the decision whether to accept it or not. I had read a whole lot of information about how much pain and discomfort I would be in right after the surgery. It was just too soon! I was suddenly extremely nervous and scared to death. Needless to say, I consented. I called my family (who were 90 miles away), and told them. They were at the hospital within a couple hours.As I was being wheeled into the operating room, my mom held my hand, and, the thought that that might be the last time I’d ever see her, was overwhelming.Within minutes, the anesthesia took effect, and 27 hours later, I started coming to. I looked down at myself, only to see this:
There were breathing tubes down my throat, oxygen being fed into my nose, 3 tubes coming out of holes that had been inserted into my stomach, catheters so that I could go to the bathroom, pumps wrapped around my legs, and a battery of IV’s dripping into my bloodstream. The next few weeks, I spent recovering in the hospital. I had to relearn how to walk by wheeling my own IV pole around the hospital halls. And, despite a very good prognosis, I would still get depressed and lonely.I really, really hated being such a burden on people, but, frankly, I just had no choice. Several times, all alone in my hospital bed, unable to get to sleep because of the high dosage of immuno-suppressants I was on, (which cause insomnia), I often thought about just giving up. But, that thought ALWAYS triggered thoughts about my little son, Austin. I have WAAAY too many heroes to thank, but, my number one hero (next to God, of course), is Austin. He doesn’t even know it yet, but, because of my commitment to somehow be the best dad I can be to that little guy, he kept me alive.I have been bound and determined to get my life back together. As soon as I was able to, I moved back to Minnesota in order to be close to my son. Currently, I can only see him for an hour every other Saturday. I had to file Chapter 7 bankruptcy which was discharged this past January. My only remaining large asset, my house, is going into foreclosure and I will be forced to vacate on or before October 20, 2010.When I purchased my house exactly 10 years ago, I fell in love with it and took great care of it. Once I got married, I kept it as a rental. But, when I got sick, I wasn’t able to look after it anymore and my tenants didn’t take care of. It’s now falling apart and in various stages of disrepair. My backyard lawn is destroyed, (as is the sprinkler system), my deck is virtually rotted away, I’ve had my patio furniture stolen, two windows are broken out, holes have been punched into my walls, the ceiling in one of the bathrooms is totally water damaged, etc.(Latest update: That house that I once loved, is now foreclosed on and no longer in my possession. I had been renting from some friends for a while, but I am now back in Illinois for the summer living with my parents.)I am now aggressively looking for long-term employment, and have fortunately had several options open to me. I’ve been submitted to several places as a short term consultant,but, because of my medical expenses, I need to find a permanent position rather than a job that will just end at a certain time along with any income that was associated with it.I have so many different prescriptions that I can’t forget to take 4 times a day, and, every few months, I have to make arrangements to travel to Chicago for a heart biopsy to make sure the heart isn’t being rejected. (I have already had two episodes of rejection.)Despite MY situation, I am more concerned for my parents who are entering their senior years. They both have sacrificed so, so much on my behalf, both during my divorce and through my illness. Amongst all the people that I owe my life to, my mom and dad have gone to such extremes. They are also going through some really tough financial times as well because of my ordeal. Their health is also ailing and it grieves me that I’m not able to help them out like I used to.My only wish is that I could be relieved of all the burdens that are holding me back from my son, the only name bearer of our family line.Steven Berg612-234-7830
I had a really awesome time with Austin today. I arrived at Perspectives only a couple minutes late, 2:47. They didn’t count me as late at all. I took their breath-a-lyzer thing and it went through just fine.
It was a couple minutes after 3:00 before I saw Austin eagerly, unabashedly opening the door himself and feeling totally comfortable with me. He is usually pretty shy, quiet, and reserved before saying anything, but today was very different! I didn’t have to coax him to talk at all by asking any questions. Instead, he spontaneously offered to tell me on his own, “I’m hungry and thirsty.” I remember feeling both thrilled and concerned at the same time! Thrilled, because this was the first time that my son felt comfortable and trustworthy enough to share something totally unsolicited with me so soon into our time together. My concern, however, was due to the fact that we were going to spending the next two hours together, and I didn’t bring anything with me for him to eat! I wasn’t sure what to do. I told the little guy that I could get him some water, which I did right away. When I walked back to the room, one of the staff people, Kimberly, was there asking Austin whether he was hungry or not. He nodded yes, and she was eventually able to scrounge up some breadsticks, crackers, and a Granola bar. The first thing he grabbed were the little breadsticks, which surprised us because he usually goes for sweeter things. Well, he ended up eating only half of one breadstick before handing me the rest of it, and then reaching for the chocolate chip Granola bar, which he was able to devour with no problem at all! Once he was finally done with it, (all activities were put on hold until he finished eating his Granola bar!). But, once he was finished, his hands were covered in melted chocolate. I insisted that we go to the bathroom to wash his hands. On the way, I had to tell him, “Don’t touch anything!!” He tried to open the bathroom door himself, but I did it for him instead. He went right up to the sink, reached over to get some soap, turned on the faucet, and just held his little hands under the running water. I had to encourage him to rub his hands together in order to get all of the chocolate off. Once the hands were clean, it was back to our room.
I had brought along with me a DVD called Cars, but we didn’t really pay much attention to it because we were both so intrigued with this little automated fishing game. He was actually much better at it than I was! He is really very competitive, too. I’m sure he probably gets that from his mother. He kept trying to cheat even though he didn’t have to. We played several games and I was keeping score. I used the opportunity to teach him here and there how to add by using my fingers. When I had to add a 3 and a 4, for instance, I held up four fingers on one hand, and three on the other and then I moved my hands together and told him, “Now all you have to do is count the fingers,” which he dutifully did, tapping each one of my fingertips with his own while counting out loud. When he got to seven, I smiled real big and then he smiled real big! (Obviously this only worked when both numbers were less than five!) There were a couple cute catch phrases I used that he liked repeating. The little fishies in this fake revolving pond would open their mouths and you had to try and get your little hook in its mouth before it closes again. Since Austin grabbed the only little pole that worked, I had to make a makeshift one out of string I found. It worked all right but not as easily as his did. I would frequently say, “Come on, you little bugger!”, trying to coax the fake fish to bite down hard enough for me to be able to pull it out of the revolving pond. (Yes, I did just say that, a revolving pond!)
I had a new person supervising this time. Her name was Janice. She was a fairly attractive blonde lady who was also very nice and was a little bit more involved with us than our last one.
A few minutes after 4:00, Jeffrey Postuma came into our room in order to steal our TV and DVD player! Jeffrey is the director of Parenting Time programs at Perspectives. He’s a really nice guy who has been so helpful with me. Austin and I played a couple more fishing games and then we decided we wanted to go outside. He had arrived in almost full skiing gear, complete with a winter coat, a hat, and gloves. It was in the mid-50’s outside. Nevertheless, we got him all geared up, grabbed a couple bats and balls out of the cabinet, and headed outside. We instantly started playing baseball. He tried several times to hit the ball with his very wide and lightweight bat. Every time he swung and missed, I would encourage him and say, “OHHH! What a good job! You almost got it!” One time, he actually DID hit the ball, and I jumped for joy and clapped for him!
Soon after this, he started squirming a bit as if he had to go to the bathroom. I instantly asked him if he needed to go potty, and he said yes. I rushed him over to the front door, and told him to go straight up the stairs where I knew there was a bathroom. I raced up the stairs ahead of him, (Janice was right by Austin’s side), in order to clean off the toilet seat with soap and water. (I’ve noticed that Austin doesn’t often notice the need to use a covering over the seat or to clean it before sitting down in public restrooms.) Since he was all dressed up in winter clothing, I helped him out of it as quickly as we could. The toilet was built more for adults than little kids, so I asked him a couple times if he needed help getting up onto it. He insisted no, so I let him take care of himself. My little boy knew exactly what to do and I just let him do it, including getting himself dressed again, flushing the toilet, and washing and drying his hands.
We had about 20 minutes left, so we got dressed back up again, and headed outside to play with the bats and balls. I was impressed to find out that Austin knew about several kinds of sports, including soccer, tennis, football, and baseball. I can already tell that he’s a very precocious child with a very high IQ. The reason I suspect this is because I know that my own IQ (as evaluated by a psychologist), is 137, which means that I’m more intelligent than 99.32% of the population.
Austin, like me, is starting to put things together. He has started asking me questions about what I know about the Schwarz side of the family, and I’ve been answering him honestly. He asked me specifically if I knew the names of his grandparents, and I said, “Yes, I know Ron and Beth.” He also asked me if I knew his cousin, Josiah. I said, “Yes, I do. But only when he was a little baby. I also know your aunt Melisa, and your aunt Katie. I also know your uncle Rhett.” He seemed perplexed by this and I said, “Your mom and I used to be married.” I then quickly changed the subject and we did something else.
I have NEVER said anything negative about Austin’s mom or anyone else in his family. I have never probed him about them, and have done nothing but respect and honor his relationship with them.
There was only one instance where I can remember my father being affectionate toward me. I was very young, 6 or 7 or 8. It was in the evening, and my dad, sister, and I were watching Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. Even though it was supposed to be a kids movie, i remember crying my eyes out when the fat kid got stuck in one of the tubes. I tried hiding my tears by turning away and burying my little face into a couch pillow. I remember my dad coming over to me, and asking me what was wrong. I just felt sorry for the fat kid who was crying because he was stuck in the tube.
I got to see Austin again yesterday. According to the divorce decree, my “parenting times” have to be supervised. That’s because I failed to get a new psychological assessment within 30 days from the decree (which came out on May 8, 2008). Judge Jay Quam ordered that because Sara (not her real name), characterized me as a nut case.
Nevertheless, now that I’m back (sort of), I have signed up with this organization called “Perspectives” in St. Louis Park. My first time seeing Austin was in November, just a week or so before Thanksgiving. The sessions are only an hour long from 3 – 4 (that will gradually increase).
It’s been so tough getting over there from Burnsville because I don’t have a car or license yet. I have had to rely on others to drive me there. I’m getting so tired of asking people for rides. I hate being such a burden. Yesterday, I got there really late. I’m supposed to be there at 2:30, but the place is so tucked away and hard to get to. Since I never drive, I don’t pay much attention and so we got lost.
In any event, it was only 3:05 and I still had most of the time to spend with my son. I couldn’t believe how talkative he was this time! He’s really feeling more and more comfortable with me. We just sat on the floor and watched Ratatouille and he was obsessed with this Wac-a-mole tower thingy. For almost the entire time, he just kept pounding the little plastic mole trying to hit the bell. He even asked me if he could take it home with him.
I asked him if he had a tricycle or anything. He told me that he doesn’t but that Taylor (his “sister”), has one AND a bike. (I wasn’t sure up until then how old she was, meaning, I didn’t know if his mommy had been pregnant again or not.) Evidently, Austin’s “other daddy” (that’s what he calls him), is a divorcee as well.
I can’t wait for the whether to get warmer so we can run and play outside.
Because of last week’s bad biopsy results, I had to make another appearance at Northwestern Hospital for ANOTHER biospy. I also scheduled a few other appointments that I was expected to get taken care of.
6:00 – My good friend, Dave Westergaard came into the room that he had so graciously allowed me to sleep in for the night. He lives in Highland Park, IL which was only a 20 minute drive to the hospital! Usually, I have to rely on my family in Rockford to drive me. But, since it’s a good 1.5 or 2 hour drive, we have to get up extra early in order to get to the cath lab between 6:30 and 7:00am.
7:03am – Dave let me off at the curb on 201 Huron Street at the door that I usually go through, and I dutifully went straight up to the 8th floor. The check-in nurse, whose desk is so strategically placed right next to the elevator bank so that you can’t avoid you, recognized me immediately! A very, very cheery woman, the first thing she said to me was, “Where’s your mom?” (My mom is pretty popular around that place too.)
I had a brand new nurse assigned to me this time, Denise. She was very, very friendly, but didn’t realize how familiar I was the place, the people, and the procedures. (I even informed her that she forgot to ask me when the last time I ate was!)
I brought my laptop with me, but just felt so, so drained that I just didn’t have the energy to break it out. The demands that other people have been placing on me have just been enormous! It seems as though everywhere I turn, someone is trying to insert a spigot into any available spot on my body. It’s much like the nurses who have had to scour my arms to find a spot on a vein that fights the needle. I had to force myself to relax, and to stop thinking/worrying about the stressors that constantly plague me. I’ve been finding that my life is nothing but a series of crises, one, two, or three at a time connected by life-squeezing wormholes.
So, I just slept until it was time for the biopsy.
9:30 – Biopsy. I was escorted into the sub-zero temperature cath lab, stepped right up onto the super skinny table, stripped naked by 2 gorgeous nurses and then sedated. The next thing I knew, I was back in my parking spot in the holding area.
12:55 – I had to race over to the 626 building to meet with Dr. Stoser from the infectious disease department. Evidently, my donor had been exposed to a dangerous virus called CMV, but I had not. Consequently, I have been taking an anti-viral medicine called Valcyte (which costs nearly $3000 per bottle!). They would like me to discontinue me from it, but I have to very closely monitor my health and get lab work done every two weeks.
2:00pm – I had to go over to the Galter pavilion in order to have a procedure done that I never had done before. It was called a “DEXA Scan” — the purpose of which was to measure my bone density. (Prednisone, one of the powerful steriods I’m on, has a lot of beneficial effects, but also, a lot of negative ones. Although it’s helping to prevent mst y heart from being rejected, it also likes to erode my bones.)
Luckily, I was able to con my father to drive in to the city to pick me up. He left at 2:30 and didn’t get there until 5:30. I just sat in Au Bon Pain restaurant on the second floor and then in the lobby getting some work done.
I am in the middle of experiencing several one-year anniversaries right now.
One year ago right now, I was an indefinite resident of Northwestern Memorial Hospital in Chicago. Except for the occasional visit from family members, I was spending most of my days totally alone.
It was tough. I was on the docket to receive a heart transplant, but just never had any idea if and when it would occur. My life was hanging by a thread and surrounded by uncertainty. My dying heart was a huge, grotesque remnant of what it used to be.
Lying in that hospital bed, day in and day out, tubes, needles, and wires keeping me both alive and yet, also imprisoned.
I was put on anti-depressants because of all that I had gone through. I had to FORCE myself, everyday, to keep my spirits up. Although my son was being prevented from seeing his father, I knew that I needed to make sure I did everything I could to stay alive for his sake. I knew only TOO WELL the pain of having a father who never cared enough about his son. I was never told by him that I was loved. He never apologized to me. He was (and still is) a domineering figure who demands deference and obedience, even though he doesn’t deserve it.
I REFUSE to let my son believe that his father didn’t truly love him. He doesn’t know how many nights I cry myself to sleep wishing that *I* could be there every day for him. I’m appalled, frankly, that I’m perfectly available every single day to watch him, and would do so at no cost to anyone. But, I know it would only be an uphill battle with her.
