I was eight months pregnant and miserable. Husband #1 went on with his drug use as well as his fury toward me. I walked on eggshells. I attempted never to utter to him about anything I may lack. This would only provoke him causing me to be physically beaten. During my pregnancy, I came to be brave enough to inform him we needed to organize for our baby. We required a crib, all the essentials. As I made the bed, I spoke of this again. He abruptly surged at me while shouting horrible names and then kicked me literally in my pregnant stomach. I fell to my knees in tears. I cried out at him, “ I can’t believe you just hurt me like this! What if you injured my baby!?” He exhibited no interest and left. I lingered on the bedroom floor crying. I was unnerved that my baby was harmed by his kick. I lay on the floor, curled in a fetal position. I shouted to God, imploring him to let my baby be ok. Let me die, though, God. I can’t take anymore.


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