“Amazing Grace” Series: There is Hope Beyond Your Suffering

Today, Maundy (or Holy) Thursday, as we recall Jesus’ Last Supper with His Apostles, followed by His agony in the Garden of Gethsemane, His betrayal by Judas and His arrest, we gain inspiration from a mom who also experienced suffering, pain and betrayal, yet found strength in God. Read on to know more about her story.

Alice* is a 28-year old stay-at-home-mom to Abel*, one year old. In her own words, she shares how she moved from being a battered woman to a woman full of hope, faith and love:  I became a single mom by chance. I never wanted to be a single mom - I mean, who would, right? When I learned of my pregnancy (which was planned by the way), the father of my child and I already had marriage plans. But things changed when he started hitting me - and it only became worse from there.

I was 26 years old when I got pregnant, while the father of my son was five years my junior. My family didn’t approve of our relationship from the very beginning since he was an undergraduate and unemployed, and my family would always say that someone like me - a professional - didn’t deserve a man like him. 

Despite this, I fought for our relationship, going “underground” at times. I would seldom go home to our house and would instead stay at my boyfriend’s place. My usual reason for not going home would be because I was working. I had two jobs at that time - I worked at a call center by night and by day, I practiced my medical profession. So, on the nights when I didn’t go home, my family thought I was spending the night at my office.

I was happy with him. I was happy with my newfound freedom - or so I thought. Everything changed when the abuse began.

My then-boyfriend hit me four times on separate occasions. In all those instances, I was already pregnant. I was having a difficult pregnancy and was at risk of losing the baby, but he still hurt me. 

 

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The abuse began after I was advised by my OB to take a leave from work. As such, I didn’t have any income as I was put on bed rest, and thus had no money to give him. Perhaps that’s what triggered his violent actions. Or maybe he felt insecure that he didn’t have any means to support our child. Until now, his reason for hitting me is still unclear to me. 

Every time he would hit me, he would end up apologizing afterwards. He would also kiss my tummy to apologize to our son in my womb. Later on, I was assessed as having the “battered wife syndrome” wherein women tend to stay in a relationship even when they are being hurt physically.
To add insult to injury, all throughout the course of our relationship, my then-boyfriend had relationships with other women. He was a womanizer and it turned out that he was just using me for the money that I provided for him. 

I remember feeling so hurt every time I discovered his indiscretions. Of course, when caught, he would apologize, and silly old me would accept him again. One day, we had a huge fight and he left me again for another girl. He even told me that he'd rather play computer games than be a dad. I was so hurt.

As for my parents, I was hesitant to tell them about my pregnancy, all the more because I was carrying the child of the very man they had warned me about. I was afraid of all the things they might say.

One morning, I came home after being hit again. My bloodied face and bruised body were very unsightly so I did my best to hide my appearance from my parents. I was also very angry. I didn’t know what to do anymore with my life. I felt so alone. I actually planned on having the baby aborted so I could go on with my life. Little did I know that God would step in and save me (and my son) through a social networking site and, eventually, my parents.

I posted photos of myself, beaten black and blue, on Facebook, because I wanted the father of my ex-boyfriend to see what his son had done to me. Eventually, my mom learned about those pictures, and of course she was fuming mad and very disappointed with me, her only child. 

Eventually, though, things turned for the better. I’d like to think now that my parents actually rescued me from all my mistakes. I focused on my pregnancy, with the full support of my family. We filed a case against my ex-boyfriend, which is still in court as of this writing.

 

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I have to be honest, though: being separated from him was so hard at first. Although I felt betrayed and degraded by what had happened, there were times when I even wanted to go back to him. To say that I felt really bad would be an understatement - there were times when I felt as if I just wanted to die. 

What helped me through all of this was the knowledge that my family, especially my parents, was there to support me. Even if I had turned my back on them, in the end, they still accepted me, their “prodigal daughter”. They even suggested that I see a psychiatrist to help me overcome the trauma that I had gone through. I felt extremely relieved to be accepted by my parents again.

It took me my entire pregnancy to cope and recover from the experience. I also went to Church and confessed all of my sins. Being baptized and raised in the Catholic faith, it helped me a lot to be back in the loving arms of God again. 

This experience totally changed my perspective in life, especially since I was set to give birth to my child. I had to prepare myself for a new chapter in my life, because someone depended on me. I prayed hard so that God would give me extra strength to be a good mom and to remove the bitterness from my heart. 

Looking back, I realize that I have learned a lot. If not for that nightmare, I wouldn’t be who I am now. I can say that those dark moments have made me stronger. 

There are still nights when the memories come back and I would be in tears, but I just look at my son and I find the strength and inspiration to live another day. God lets things happen for a reason, which at first, we might not see, so it’s important to develop that deep faith in Him. 

I am now a great believer that our parents do know what is best for us, and that we should heed their advice because, at the end of the day, our family will still be there to accept us no matter what. It’s never too late to repent. I owe my second life to my parents and, of course, to God and I’m very thankful for that. 

I am now happy with my life as a fulltime mom to my 14-month old son. Though I am still dependent on my parents, I am eager to go back to work. I’m also proud to be a breastfeeding advocate. I know I still have much to learn when it comes to motherhood, but with my son and my family beside me, I know I can survive. Praise God.

Photo by tommerton2010 via flickr creative commons