My Story

Questions

Forgiveness

Regrets

By Faith

Murder Suicide

"Okay okay... just put the gun down. I'll come with you! I'll do whatever you want, just put the gun away, PLEASE!"

He pushed me up against the wall, gun to my face.

"You think I need a gun to kill you?!?! I can use my bare hands. You think I'm some punk b@&c!? I can snap your neck right now if I wanted to."

The smell of liquor was fresh on his breath. He pressed his body up against mine pinning me against the wall. My blood ran cold though my veins and the only sound was the thunderous beating of my heart. 

He held me there for a moment before continuing in his drunken stupor...

"Are you cheating on me?!?! Are you f&*k!ng some ni&&a?"

I swallowed to keep from crying, but a tear escaped anyway. I had no idea what he was ranting about!!! Nothing had happened. One minute we were having a quiet evening at home, the next he was literally at my throat. My children of course were off somewhere taking cover as usual and I  tried to comply to diffuse the situation.

Today I feel so far removed from that awful scenario which was once my grim reality.  Everyday I woke up in fear that one day my children and I wouldn't wake up!!! I was sleeping with one eye open, keeping watch over my kids by bunking in their room just to make sure they were safe. I would find any reason to stay up late, or better yet any excuse to stay over my mother's house for the evening.

I was scared! Terrified that my unstable police officer husband would neglect his civic or rather domestic duty to PROTECT his family and actually endanger or FLAT OUT take our lives. I waited in fear for him to load his weapon just to unload it into our flesh. I waited in horror for him to lose it one quiet evening and shoot us soundly as we slept before taking his own life as well.  I prayed that my family would never have to endure the grief that the headlines "Murder Suicide at 1627 Howard Chapel Court"would bring them.

I was afraid but I stayed, crippled by fear, immobilized by threats, waiting for an escape or waiting for it to happen.  I look back now and I am shocked by my actions, but I can remember that overwhelming feeling of loneliness and being trapped.

I remember wondering if this was it, every time a fight would ensue. I remember being worried for my children, and I remember being mad at myself for neglecting to take action...

And when it almost happened, when he cornered me into a closet pounding me with his blows. When he promised that he would take my life and his. When he terrorized my oldest child lifting her to the ceiling and throwing her to the floor, when he struck my baby boy, and put fear into my youngest girl with his illogical questions, when he near killed me, when I had no way out... GOD rescued us!!!

TWO YEARS LATER...

It's been two years since that day. A blessing and a curse at the same time. I was almost killed, but delivered instead. I think of it like a second birthday, because God gave me life for a second time when he released the hold from around my neck... when he perfectly coordinated the ring of the doorbell with the very instant in time that I was slipping from consciousness, when he pulled me from that darkness and directed me back into the light... that day changed my life. 

It was November 6, 2011. It gives me goosebumps to think of what could've happened if things would've taken a different turn. If God hadn't spared me... and what about my kids?!? Would he have killed them too? Two years later and for sure it would've been the anniversary of my death...

He grabbed my neck! I squirmed...

"Let me go! Get off of me!"

But he only squeezed harder. My children just a few feet away on the other side of the wall, while their father compromised my airway with an effortless grip around my neck. So many thoughts flooded my mind... "He's gonna hurt the kids", "I have to live!", "This is finally it!", "GOD Help Me!!!"

The look in his eyes was emotionless, he stared directly into my eyes with complete darkness, like I could see through his soul. There was no evidence of humanity... just evil. 

I fought him... I tried gouging at his eyes, kicking his groin, scratching, and other remedial methods to break free, but I was only wasting energy and feeding his wrath. The angrier he became, the tighter his grip. In little to no time, I COULDN'T breathe!!! I felt dizzy, I couldn't speak, there was no passage of air, then the fuzziness and the darkness came, and there was an eery peace... I knew I was dead, and I said a prayer for my children...

I find myself fighting back tears as I am writing this. 

It's strange to imagine  that I could have died right there on my kitchen floor at the hands of my own husband. Right beside my children. 

But instead, the doorbell rang right as I was prepared to depart with my life. For the first time in the midst of one our battles had the actual thought and acceptance of death entered my mind, but when I gave up on myself God did not and made His presence known.  

The police had arrived right on time, but not by coincidence. 

Now fast forward two years later...

There is peace of mind, my children are no longer afraid of their own shadows, I no longer live paranoid that he will be waiting for me behind a bush, or in the parking lot of some public place, my children laugh again! They play, they sing, they love, they excel in their interests, they do exceptionally well in school, they are free to be children! 

No more being afraid at home, no more screaming matches instead of lullabies, no more witnessing fights, no more crying, no more, no more, no more...

So I am thankful for November 6, 2011. I could've died that day, but instead God delivered my family...

Put the Baby Down!

"Put the baby down Claudine!"

"Why, so you can throw me across the room?!? "Our" child is screaming because of you. He's scared!"

"You have one more time to raise your voice at me. Now I am going to tell you again. Either you put the baby down or I will."

Not sure what he meant by that particular statement, I did not want to chance it. I only had seconds to make a decision, so I walked past him slowly and gently placed my screaming  newborn son in his play pen. Our girls slept peacefully in their beds unaware of the mayhem happening right outside of their bedroom door. 

 I was afraid to turn around, as I knew this 200 plus pound bully was waiting to attack. 

"Now you were talking all of that s&*! when you had the baby... what's up now now, huh? You think I'm some punk a$$ ni&&a off the street. I'm not a bi*$@, your husband can actually hold his own."

He continued his mindless banter and I desperately searched for an escape. While he bounced around like a boxer in a ring, my mind went to my children. My three babies 3,2, and just a few weeks. How would I get out of this one? This time I didn't even know what the argument was truly over.  He left the house early that evening, which had become a pattern. Shortly thereafter, I received a phone call from a "Gina" asking when he would be arriving to the party. Naturally, upon his return, I inquired and from that point World War 3 had erupted. I watched him, in his fighting stance and wondered how he could think that this was an equal match up, but I did not utter even a single breath...

"So you just gonna sit there and disrespect me? You don't hear me talking to you?" 

He pushed me down into the glass table and a pain seared down my side. There was blood but it was superficial. I wasn't too badly hurt. My newborn on the other hand was crying so hard that he was gasping for air. I was at a loss for what to do! I ignored my pain and stood to my feet. I politely said excuse me and walked around the near 300 pound monster standing before me.... Wrong move! 

He grabbed me by arm ad slung me onto the sofa...

"What the fu*! is wrong with you?!?! Where the he!! do you think you're going?"

"_________ the baby is crying! Please let me get to him, he needs me! He can't breathe!"

"Oh, so he needs "you"?!? What the fu*! am I? You don't think he needs me?"

Of course he found a way to twist my words. Then my heart sank and jumped to my throat at the same time! He walked toward our son and tears just flooded my eyes.

"Oh my God! Please________! Don't hurt him, he is just a baby! He doesn't know any different, he is crying because he wants to be comforted and he hasn't eaten! Please!!! I didn't mean anything by saying he needs me... only that I have to nurse him!

 I pleaded with him not to hurt my baby boy.

"Shut up! I'm not going to hurt my son! He's crying because he needs ME! Now look at that, he stopped. Ain't that right buddy? you wanted Daddy, not your dumb ass mother."

He walked to the kitchen and got the baby a bottle. He sat down for the next hour or so feeding, changing, consoling, and all the while speaking derogatorily about me to our newborn. He dared me to get up and I sat frozen in fear of so many of the deadly scenarios that consistently played through my mind. 

After one of the longest hours of my life, finally my beast of a husband fell asleep. I carefully picked up my baby and trembling I took shelter in my daughters' room. Afraid to leave, I locked the door and sat staring at it, waiting for him to come back for me. 

He didn't. Eventually I heard the front door. I had no regard for his whereabouts, instead I just took my children piled them in the car and like I had done so many times before sought shelter at my parent's home. 

Happy to see us, they did not suspect a thing. And again we were safe.

Is My Daddy Dead?

"But Mommy I don't see him anymore, and when you don't see people anymore that means they're not coming back.  Is Daddy dead?"

My son never ceases to amaze me. We had just returned home from burying my great uncle and all of a sudden he became curious about death. His question made a lot of sense, and I could tell that he was really confused as he tried to wrap his little mind around the events surrounding him.

"Baby, your daddy is not dead, but you're right you don't see him anymore. I'm sorry, it's kind of hard for you to understand right now, but you'll get it one day when you grow up."

"No, Mommy you're wrong, Daddy is dead. If he was alive he would come pick me up."

With that he ran happily out of my room. Now what is wrong with that picture???

Did my four year old just justify his father's absence with death? And he was content. I mean when I think about it, I guess it could make perfect sense. There is less pain in thinking that someone is staying away because of death rather than to accept the truth that they are making a conscious decision not to be a part of your life.  But he is four!!!

It's amazing how the mind compensates for the illogical. Finding reason within nonsense. Protecting the heart, protecting the very being from the harsh realities of life.

Now, surely my little boy did not fully comprehend the concept of death. Even after seeing his uncle lying there lifeless in his casket, even after saying goodbye to him with a kiss, even after crying for him to come back when he saw the closed casket, and breaking down when his uncle was lowered into the ground. I mean even after all of that he still speaks of his uncle as though he is just a phone call or car ride away. But, in his constant conversation about his uncle he finds peace. He knows that he will not see him again, he knows that he will never get to sit on his lap again, and he knows his most adored feedings by his uncle will never happen again, but still I do not think he understands the absolution of death. He doesn't grasp the permanency of death or the severity that his loved one is gone forever.

He just knows that he used to see him all of the time, then he went away for a while, and soon after he died.  By the same token, he used to see his father all of the time, then he went away for a while... so like his uncle, Daddy must not be alive. But, instead of sadness it brings him peace. However, once again it breaks my heart that my young son has to deal with such grown up thoughts. Whoever said that children don't understand, must've never met a child in emotional pain.

And I can't even debate it, because as surely as my great uncle is gone so is his father. As surely as we had to mourn the loss of my uncle, my kids had to mourn the loss of their father. Only three, five, and six when they last saw him. And now they will be five, eight, and nine and he is dead to them. Just a memory, that's all they have left.

Sadly my son was right, Daddy is dead...

"My daddy dont have no kids, right?"

"Mommy, my daddy don't have no kids, right?"

"What do you mean Daddy doesn't have any kids???"

"You know Mommy, my mean Daddy... he used to have kids, but not anymore."

I was really confused, and quite astonished at the thought process of my four year old child. Here he was in his little mind, thinking that because he doesn't see or hear from his father that all ties, even familial were cut off, and honestly who could blame him?

"Mommy, a long time ago, I was his baby and I used to call him Daddy, but not anymore. Now I'm not his kid anymore and I call him by  his real name_________. Me and my sisters don't have a dad and he don't have aaannny kids."

His "matter of fact" tone was actually quite humorous and cute for a child his age, but the content surrounding it was down right sad. Here I was at a loss of what to say to my youngster as he came to such grown up conclusions about the man he once adored. 

"Baby, he will always be your father and you guys will always be his kids. Everyone has a dad, even if you don't see him or hear from him. You guys just don't see your daddy anymore because it's not very safe, but he still loves you. Just because Mommy and Daddy are not married anymore doesn't mean he's not your dad. You'll understand better when you get older. But, I want you to understand that Mommy loves you very much and you have your Papa and your uncles, and they are kind of like a dad, and they are there for you, okay."

"Okay, Mommy."

I could see from the expression on his little face that he was processing what I had just told him, but just like that he left it alone. He just turned over and went to sleep. Needless to say he got my mind going, and I was truthfully quite annoyed by the textbook/ after school special response that I had just given him.

In reality I agreed with my baby boy.  It's not anything I ever had to deal with, because to this day my father is still there for me in any situation, but in my child's case his father was literally there one day and gone the next. Yes, we had protection orders, and yes there was the issue of custody, but phone calls still came through to interrogate me about men and other nonsense of that sort, but never with reference to the children or their well being. And so it baffles me how someone can so readily let go of their children; without a second thought, without a fight, without reluctance or hesitation. No phone calls, no letters, no happy birthdays, no Merry Christmas... nothing.

 Imagine what that must feel like for a child... It hurts!!! But, all I can do is offer comfort, and a mother's love. I will never be able to fill the void that their father left behind, and I am expectant of many more conversations such as this one to arise. I cannot say I am prepared for them, but I will take it on nonetheless. 

In the end, I pull on a piece of advice that my attorney offered me, "Claudine stop trying to  make sense out of nonsense" and so I surmise it to that... and just walk away grateful. It all happened this way for a reason. My children's wounds will heal, they will receive God's blessings despite their father's absence and I am happy things are this way. Life is simpler in so many ways, and though our struggle is real we have God's blessings and each other and we are good :-)

Claudine Barbot - From An Officer's Wife

Domestic Violence "Through a Child's Eyes"

Claudine Barbot on The Rising Spivey Show

From the Mouths of Babes...

"I wonder what he's doing."

"Yeah me too."

"You think he still gets really mean?"

"I don't know...probably."

"You think he's still in the hospital?"

"He has to be.  Remember? Mommy said we wouldn't see him for a while because he had to get his mind better."

"But it's been really long. Like a really really really long time!"

"I know, but maybe it takes a long time to fix your mind. You know because it's inside."

"Do you want to see him?"

"I don't know... do you?"

"No, I'm scared! I think he might hurt us like before."

"You mean like when he picked you up and threw you?"

"Yeah, or like when he used to hit Mommy."

"Yeah, me either! I don't want to see him. But I hope he's okay."

"Yeah, we can just pray for him. God will protect him."

I almost cried as I posted myself in the hallway outside of the room my two daughters shared.  They were talking about their father! A topic that nowadays I would have to find unobtrusive ways to initiate, just to get them to share their feelings. But, here they were on a regular day, having a very grown up conversation about him.

"Yeah we can just pray for him, you are right."

"Remember, what we learned at church? We don't have to see it happen to know God is working on it?"

"Yep, so it will happen."

And a tear fell from my eye. Here are these children. These young six and seven year old children, showing complete forgiveness for the extreme pain that this man caused them. They forgave him and were praying for him!  An act most grown folk can't even fathom! And my children were engrossed in it...

I find comfort in knowing that God heard their prayer. It makes me smile that even though their father believes in his heart that his girls don't love him, even though he shows no regard for their existence, even though he has disrupted the normalcy and innocence of their young lives, that they can still find it in their hearts to forgive him and to love him. I was proud of my girls that day, and I thanked God for His grace, because even though they were hardest hit, with His love I know they will be okay.