The years seemed to roll by slowly. As a teenager, I would go downtown, and whenever one of those men who traveled on a religious wagon, shouting about the world ending soon and trying to get people saved, they scared me so bad that I’d turn around and go the other way to get away from them.
My stepdad continued to come home drunk; he’d get mad, maybe because Mama didn’t want to get out of bed at 2:30 in the morning to cook him a t-bone steak, and the abuse continued.
“Why don’t you leave him,” I’d ask her.
“Because I don’t have a place to go,” she always answered.
“Well,” I’d tell her, “When I get married, you can come and live with me.”
A few years later, I met a man who asked me to marry him and promised to take my mom, sisters & brothers to live with us. I took him up on his offer. We got married, and Mom was finally able to leave her abuser. The entire family moved in with us in the tiny house my husband, Don, had bought.
We all had fun living together for a while. My husband and I liked to listen to country music and dance while we enjoyed a few drinks. My mom did, too, so we 
always invited her along. She especially loved dancing to the Beer Barrel Polka. Every time the song played, Mom would grab me and twirl me around on the dance floor. She’d smile and laugh as we listened to “Roll out the Barrel, We’ll Have a Barrel of Fun.”
My one dream was to have a baby. I became overjoyed when I finally got pregnant. The joy turned to sorrow when I lost the baby.
“You can always try again,” the doctor said.
Every month that it didn’t happen brought sadness & tears.
Then, finally, I became pregnant again. But, before I was three months along, I lost my second baby.
After many more years of trying, I became pregnant again. Things were going along well, then, on Christmas Eve, when I was eight and a half months along, on a cold 
and snowy night, Don and I went to the store. We took my brother’s car to pick out a card for his wife because he had forgotten to get her one. “I’m too drunk to drive,” he slurred. Could you take my car, run to the drugstore, and pick one out for her?”
“Sure,” we agreed.
My husband was not a patient man. Ice covered the windshield. “You need to take time to clear the windshield,” I said.
“No,” he answered in a gruff voice as he cleared one tiny spot in the middle. “I can see.”
Off we went, slipping and sliding. I couldn’t see anything from my side. Then Boom and I felt a terrible pain in my back when he ran into a parked car alongside the road. People rushed over to us. The man who owned the car had broken down & had been under the hood working on his car just before we came along. He had left to get a part, and I was so thankful that he did.
I started to cry with fear
for my unborn baby and the pain in my back.
“I’m not hurt & I’m not crying,” Don said, “so what are you bawling about?”
Someone called an ambulance. The driver looked at me and asked, “Ma’am, how far apart are your pains?”
“I’m not in labor,” I told him through my tears, “but I’m worried about my baby.”
Don opened the car door and jumped out. “Hey,” he yelled at the policeman, “how much will the ambulance cost me?”
The policeman told him, “You just get back in that car and stay with your wife; don’t get out until we tell you to.”
My first ride in an ambulance was frightening, and fear for my unborn baby’s life topped my list. At the hospital, I told the doctor. I 
haven’t felt my baby kick,” After the examination and x-ray, I found out I had two broken ribs. There was a gas can in the back seat, and the impact slammed the gas can into my back.
“Your baby probably felt like you were riding a horse and got knocked off, but your baby is fine.”
Thankfulness to God filled my heart.
Two weeks later, my dreams came true. I delivered a little girl. My life felt complete with my sweet baby, Lynn. But my marriage was falling apart. The end came only nine months later when Don did something 
unforgivable. I filed for divorce.
Part 3 Coming Soon!