Lee’s Story
Chapter Four – Remorse & Promises

This is a true story written by a survivor of domestic violence.
Names have been changed to protect the identities of those involved.
Copyright - Lee & Wonderful Women 2009

I sat on the porch for probably twenty minutes. All my fear was now focused on whether my unborn baby was still alive or not. I had not felt movement for hours and was wondering if the little thing had felt my terror, and maybe died of shock.

I moved back inside the house, grabbed a blanket and curled up on the couch. I fell into an uneasy sleep exhausted from the adrenalin charged events of the previous night.

Mike woke me up a few hours later. “Morning Poops – are you ok? I did it again didn’t I? I got drunk and made trouble.”

This ‘morning after’ remorse was becoming predictable. It was clear that I had a serious problem on my hands, but at that point I could only link it to the alcohol. Whenever Mike got drunk, he would get aggressive and often violent. Yet when he was sober, he was a very likable and charming young man.   

“Please Mike, just leave me alone” were the only words I had the energy for.

“Lee I remember flashes, I think I may have tried to shoot you?” Mike seemed almost fearful of what my reply would be.

I burst into tears. I suspect they were tears of relief. Mike’s pitiful show of remorse was confirmation that the hell of the previous night was actually over. And then it happened. I felt a big movement in my belly. The tears tuned into hysterical sobbing. Mike then also started crying, thinking I was probably in shock or something. He had no idea of the immense relief I was feeling at that moment.

As the day progressed, I informed Mike of what had happened the night before. All the idiot could say was ‘I’m sorry’, over and over. It just wasn’t good enough. Things needed to change. Mike had to stop drinking. I was not prepared to have three of us in the marriage;

him, the alcohol and me.

Taking advantage of his constant pleas for forgiveness, I lectured him about the reality of becoming a Daddy, and told him that he needed to get his act together and grow up. He assured me he would. He also solemnly promised me that he would never drink again.

We returned to my parent’s house the next day. I was thrilled to be home as it was only a few weeks before the baby was due.

It was three in the morning of the 8th of September 1986. I woke up to go to the bathroom. As I walked back to our room my waters broke. I tried waking Mike, telling him I was in labour, but he muttered that he was tired and I should wake him when I wanted to go to hospital. So I went through to my Mom and knocked on her bedroom door, telling her my waters had broken. She asked if I was in pain. When I said I wasn’t, she suggested I call the hospital for advice, and then try to get some rest. But to wake her again once I felt contractions.

I walked back, put some towels on the pink couch now in our room (I really didn’t care at that point if I gave birth on it, even knowing it was Mike’s precious possession) and then sat it out for the next three hours. All the while speculating nervously about the pain I was about to endure and listening to Mike’s steady breathing.

At seven we all left for the hospital. There was much excitement. Little Penny was born at 14h15 that afternoon. Mike was thrilled with his baby daughter who was absolutely beautiful, with a mop of black hair.

Later that day I was in the general maternity ward with six other new moms. Family members were in and out, but by 19h00 I was alone, with Penny in a crib next to me, and Mike.

“So aren’t you going to breastfeed the baby – surely that’s what you should be doing?”

I was made to feel like an inadequate mother, and despite wanting to follow the instructions of the nurses, I thought that maybe Mike was right. I picked up my tiny little girl, and attempted to breastfeed her. She wouldn’t latch onto my breast. I persevered, but just couldn’t get it right.

“You’re pathetic” Mike snapped at me. “Look how useless you are – you can’t even feed your own child!”

Panicking, I burst into tears. Luckily just then a nurse walked in.

“I can’t get my baby to breastfeed” I cried out to her.

Wonderful Women is drawing up a list of helpful resources for victims of domestic violence and other types of abuse.

If you are based in Dubai or Gauteng in S.A. and provide a service that you believe should be on the list, or know of someone who does, please e-mail sue@wwnetw.com.

There is already some information that can help abused women on the Wonderful Women website – www.wonderfulwomennetwork.com.

Human Relations Institute (Dubai) (971-4) 365-8498 & 365-8578
www.hridubai.com is linked to The Foundation for International Human Relations, Washington, DC and offers a wide range of Psychology related services. With multilingual and multicultural professionals on board they combine both Clinical and *Forensic Psychology to effectively assess, treat, and consult on cases where domestic violence is involved. (*Forensic psychologists translate psychological information into a legal framework, usually for the purpose of testifying in court.)

The Restorative Justice Centre
(Pretoria, South Africa)
Tel: 27 (0) 12 3232926.   Contact Suzanne Robinson-Davis suzanne@rjc.co.za, www.rjc.co.za deals with domestic violence situations. They sent us the case study below. Although people think that domestic violence always involves women being abused by their partners, there are cases where the male is the one on the receiving end.

The Restorative Justice Centre (RJC) recently dealt with a matter in which a husband opened a case of assault against his wife after she had thrown cutlery at him which left him with a scar on the chest after a heated argument.

During a conversation with the wife she asserted that she acted in self defense as he had been abusing her for the past 8 years in their 20 years of marriage.

The couple willingly participated in a Victim Offender Conference which was facilitated by a social worker from RJC. Both parties had the opportunity to express themselves and lay out any hidden feelings and aggravations that they had.
 
During the session, it soon became apparent that the wife was abusing alcohol. This was one of the factors that contributed to the couple’s conflict.

The RJC social worker assisted the couple in finding common ground and agreeing on certain ground rules.

The wife acknowledged the strain that her alcohol abuse put on her family and was willing to go for rehabilitation. She also agreed to seek new ways to deal with stress.
Even though there is still a long road that this couple has to walk together, with RJC’s continued intervention, the journey will no longer be one devoid of hope.  

“Please relax love. We gave her a bottle of glucose water earlier, so she won’t be feeling hungry right now” came the welcome reply.

I glared at Mike hoping he could read the look in my eyes. I wasn’t a useless mother – there was a logical explanation. Mike left the hospital shortly afterwards.

At 22h00 a nurse brought Penny to me saying I should now try to feed her. She stayed to help, and although we battled for over half an hour to get Penny to latch onto the breast, it was to no avail. This went on for three painful days. The cold cabbage leaves didn’t bring much relief at all. In the end I had no choice but to bottle feed Penny. Much to my relief a kindly nurse later explained that the problem may have been created because Penny was given glucose water BEFORE she was introduced to the breast. Anyhow, it wasn’t long before I left the hospital.

The first few months at home were absolutely wonderful. I adored my little girl, and so did everyone else. Amazingly Mike stayed calm during this time and always seemed to be hovering in the background.

Because Penny really battled with colic, in the evenings my mother, step-father and I would take it in shifts to try and pacify her after her 6pm feed, walking up and down trying everything to quiet her screaming. Mike usually retreated to the bedroom. He seemed almost scared to get involved. This suited me. I preferred his absence to him creating added stress with his sarcastic comments.

During this time Mike was called up to do two months of military duty. Rather than feeling upset by this forced ‘husband removal’, I felt relieved. And during his absence, I felt myself slowly starting to relax.

Although I was finding it hard to adjust to the lack of sleep and all the associated stresses of being a new mother, with Mike away I couldn’t help noticing that I wasn’t so tense all the time. I spent glorious summer days alongside the pool with Penny, introducing her to the joy of playing in water. Of course I would just let her dip her toes in, but she loved it.

Mike was due back just before Christmas. As the day of his arrival approached, I became more and more anxious. Memories of his past behaviour flickered through my mind. And despite my constant busyness – going to the local clinic, looking after Penny, and having regular visitors, although I didn’t dwell on them, all my old fears lingered.

After Mike returned, we held a big Christmas Eve celebration. My mother had prepared a feast fit for a king. Aunts and uncles showered Penny with gifts. As I listened to Christmas songs like Boney M’s ‘Mary’s Boy Child’ and the cheerful noise of our family all together, I tried hard to get into the same spirit as everyone else. But I was constantly pre-occupied by the sight of Mike merrily downing one beer after the next.

I left the group quite early to go and feed Penny. Most of the guests left soon afterwards. Mike and my stepsister’s husband, Dave, were the last to finish up. Like Mike, Dave was also fond of his beers, but unlike Mike, Dave did not become aggressive.

Just as I was quietly getting little Penny off to sleep, Mike came stumbling into the bedroom.
“So Lee, quite the Christmas dinner your mother made huh,” he blurted out loudly, which naturally woke our daughter up.
“Shut up Mike, you’ve just woken Penny,” I replied crossly.

As soon as I said the words I regretted it. Now I’m going to get it! But I didn’t. I was waiting for it to happen, but it didn’t. I couldn’t believe it when Mike simply got into bed and passed out.

It took me another half an hour to get Penny back to sleep. The whole time I was wondering - since I had actually ‘provoked’ Mike – why he didn’t react; abusively or otherwise. Is he simply too drunk? Could it be that now we have Penny, he is able to control his drunken aggression? Or is it that my motherly protective behaviour has taken him by surprise?

The following day I continued to examine the reasons why Mike did not react. Could it be that he has new-found respect for me? Could it be because I stood up for myself? If I stand up for myself again in the future, will the outcome be the same?

A few months later Mike and I moved into a cottage. I was about to find out.

To be continued.

“If just one woman, trapped in an abusive relationship is able to find the emotional tools to leave and better her life through reading my story, then writing it will have been worth it.” – Lee