This was one of my favorite books when I was a girl. This too is a story about 4 sisters. A loosely biographical account by Louisa May Alcott. Each one unique and different. Trauma and disappointment because life is complicated
But this is a different story. It is about the influence that domestic violence has on a four little girls. It is not something that is easy to talk about let alone write about.
So to pick up from last time. My mom tried to leave two times in my first 15 months of life. And then she would become pregnant with my sister and she would never try to leave again.
I learned much later in life that my dad called me the “miracle” baby because mom my had at least 3 miscarriages before she had me and multiple surgeries. My mom had lots of “women” problems which probably means endometriosis and fibroids. The story goes that she only had half an ovary left when she finally conceived me. And then she would have 3 more daughters, perfectly spaced 2.5- 2.75 years apart. All with rhyming names. I don’t know if the half an ovary part is folklore or truth. I might be able to ask my two remaining aunts but I doubt they would know the intimate details.
I do know this. After my mom passed, we were cleaning out the perfectly organized, jam packed closets and I found all the paper prescriptions and the vials of DES that she took so she could conceive me. I told you she had perfectly manicured collections. It was her testament to her difficulty to have a child. It was weird being that child. Aha, so this is how I got here….
Therefore, to have three more girls after so much of a struggle seemed like a true blessing. I do know we were wanted. We were loved. But we were not protected. We should have never been witness to the things we saw and the toll it took on our relationships is irreversible.
Isolation is one of the trademarks of Domestic Violence. My grandparents lived less than a mile from my home. They lived three blocks from my school. While I have fond memories of stopping by my grandma’s home on the way home from school, when she would have a pie in the oven and made me scraps of the crust filled with cinnamon and sugar, they never came to our home.
Sometimes my grandpa would be in our neighborhood because he did some handyman work for a lady down the street and he would drop off a box a Dunkin’ Donuts.
I can’t imagine living so close to Stella or Sam and their families and not feeling welcome there.
Domestic Violence shatters relationships.
I already wrote a post about what is was like to be that little girl in the bedroom, sheets pulled up over your head, listening, praying to God. But it is too hard to post yet.
Next time, Marie. My amazing grandmother. One of my anchors.
It is believed that my mother also took DES. The offspring of people whose mothers took DES have developed cancers. You might already know that but it has really hit my family hard. Both brothers have had testicular cancer and I also had a bad Pap smear and had to have surgery. Please have regular Pap smears and make sure your Gyn knows this part of your medical history. My doctor has made sure I have one every year and has made sure it’s covered by my insurance.