- Posted August 21, 2013 by
This iReport is part of an assignment:
Where is my home?
What Defines “Home” for Me
When my grandparents found out their daughter was pregnant they investigated like all good caring parents would and through the investigation the truth came out enraging the parents of the friends that participated in the situation. Being the year nineteen fifty eight or fifty nine you could well imagine what the other people thought about my biological mother once word got around the neighborhood; and around her school.
Shunned and laughed at by her peers, my biological mother decided it was her unborn baby’s fault that she lost her friends and are being ridiculed as her stomach grew her hatred of her unborn grew also. My grandparents forcing the father of the unborn child to marry my biological mother didn’t help the situation or my biological mother’s hatred of her unborn child. My biological mother never lived with her new husband, but stayed at home with her parents.
Around the middle part of her seventh month of pregnancy my biological mother decided to visit an elder that knew the herbs of the land very well and had gotten something from the woman that supposedly caused the female body to chemically and naturally abort the fetus. My biological mother took all of the stuff given her at one time wanting to be rid of her unwanted burden. A few hours later my biological mother became physically ill; running high fevers, sweating profusely and vomiting continually for hours. After which time my biological mother lashed out verbally, condemning everybody and everything around her as she confessed what she had done to her mother; who was with her through the entire episode of illness. Grandmother continued her vigil over her daughter for the next several days worried that my biological mother might die. Grandmother wanted to contact their doctor or get her daughter to a hospital, but was afraid they would place her daughter in a mental institution. My grandmother being a nurse did what she could for her daughter and kept checking on the unborn child.
My biological mother was rushed into the delivery room at the appointed time the birth was due. The resident nurse administered a shot designed to numb the pain. The nurse stepped to the door to talk to grandmother as the doctor walked to the head of my biological mother’s head to talk to her. My biological mother jumped off of the birthing table, grabbed the scalpel and put the knife to the doctor’s throat screaming; “Kill it. Get this thing out of me and kill it” over and over. My biological mother looked like some wild thing that didn’t look totally human. Orderlies had to enter the room and forcefully restrain her and tie her to the birthing table. Thinking they were being kind to my grandmother, somebody recorded the incident as a severe allergic reaction to the medication administered. There was no mention that my biological mother tried to squash her newborn’s head between her legs as she stood with a knife to the doctor’s throat. After three days of refusing to have anything to do with her newborn my biological mother was released from the hospital leaving her new born behind.
Later that night my grandfather and my eldest uncle went to the hospital, paid the bill and brought me home. From that day on my grandparents had been my parents. At the age of six months my grandparents took the entire family and moved to California leading everybody else thinking my family was moving to New York.
From that time on we moved every few months to a new house or an apartment. We never staid anyplace for more than six months when I was young and never more than two years as I got older. I was a curse to my biological mother and a gift from God to my grandparents. I never knew exactly why we were so different from everybody else, why we could never stay in one place like most normal families. Over the years I have learned that home is wherever your heart is and that is not always a building because a building is nothing without the loving people within; a piece of land because although land is pretty and peaceful it is filled with life and always changing; any one specific person because we carry our loved ones in our hearts everywhere we go or even anything we perceive as solid because it can be destroyed. My heart is with my true father; the father that gave me life and protected me when others attempted to kill me; my heart is with the Living God of Love and Hope and therein lies my home. This is also why I am against abortions; what is one persons trash is another’s blessing.