patricia7kids

Mother’s day morning never was ment to be like the one I had when I heard my youngest twin’s voice screaming about the baby’s nose bleeding. I looked over to see my baby’s face covered in blood and she was not breathing. When I finally waved down a person to call the ambulance, I knew that she was gone. Too much time had went by as I ran around trying to get some one in the hotel to call some one for me. too much time had passed, and the nieghbor woman, who I hardly knew, was out of breath trying to blow into the small body and she laid my baby onto the bed right before the flashing lights and sirens came. She was gone and as I rode in the car downtown under investigation, the Sacramento County Child Protective Department was taking my still living children into custody. Now one of my children was dead and the other five taken. I was alone in the empty and trashed hotel room where I had tried to destroy all I could get a hold of after the parametic woman told me, “I am sorry, We can’t do anything for your baby.” After we saw her body burried in what looked to be a shoe box, I did some thing that I swore to never do. I allowed my mother to pursuade me to return home, back to San Diego, where my blood family was. After over ten years, I couldn’t fight any more. When the autopsy on my daughter was completed I was cleared of harming my child, and my other five were back with me, on our way to San Diego. Back to the city where I swore to never return. I left behind my baby, burried under the soil in an umarked grave…I want to go see her…but with bearly enough money to pay the rent, I only have memories of her first smile. Her only smile. And March 29th, we all have a birthday party for the sister no longer here. Have we totally grieved her departure from us? Not long enough, for once we arrived in San Diego all hell broke loose and hasn’t stopped since!

Over the years, I have looked every where for love but I just found despair and betrayal. I feel in love with the wrong niggas, and shared my heart with people who only wanted to get from me what ever they could. I fell into a dark place again before I turned 30, a depression that almost over came me. But I released the resentments towards Micheal for naming our first child after his wife, who I didn’t even know he was married to until I was seven months pregnant with our second child. He took off to virgina with his five kids and wife, leaving me on welfare with an apartment 100 bucks over my income, pregnant again, raising already six kids, going to school and attending a recovery program. (I am an alcoholic, 3 years clean!) Then when our child was one year old and a stranger to him, he returned. Well, like a fool I welcomed him back, only to end up depressed, near blind with false promises, my college financial aid spent on him for a van that he wrecked in two weeks and a bank account he overdrew near a thousand dollars. I rose up one day and decided that no longer could he have my stuff! I looked in the mirror as he lauged at my discovery of his name game with our daughter and his wife, and I remembered who I needed love from. Not him, not children, but from god and myself. Oh yes, I remembered how to love myself. I Love and am loved by the only two individuals who can make or break me. God, and Me.

I am 30 years old and have had eight kids. One passed mother’s day in 2001 from what they called Crib Death, as we slept in our hotel room next to one another. When I was 12 years old, My cousin kindly (or malliciously) let me know that he who had been raising me was not my daddy. Later my mother confirmed that this was true and proceeded to give me a picture of a man who she claimed was my “real” dad. Three years later, she was drunk with her sister and let slip out that my father was different man than the one in the picture that I’d been carring around. In fact, the real father of mine was her sister’s boyfriend at the time I was concieved.(OOOuuuu) I found him on my own years later and sent him and his family a picture of me which they agreed, was not of their blood! One more time I asked, now my mother says, “I just don’t know” and I promised never to mention it again because she spilled such regretfull emotion during the admission of being a slut. 2005, I was reunited with my uncle, you know the one who was always in jail when I was growing up, so I never really knew him, and he pointed out a very interesting fact. . . he thought that he knew who my daddy was the whole time, the man who every weekend would take me into his home with his wife and step daugter Kimberly, and make me feel like I was royalty. Many weekends I spent with this family to escape the constant fighting and yelling that my parents displayed. I want to ask mom, but can’t due to my promise, so now I am on a new search, for the third potential father, Jody Hawkins. . last I heard was in Virgina. . .where are you Jody? Are you my daddy?