I was 6 months pregnant when we moved to San Jose--he to be a CPA, me to be a mother. What tiny sense of self I'd been allowed after three years of marriage was taken away under the fundamentalist doctrines of Branham Lane Baptist Church. The only reason I'd been born was to please God, and the only way to please God was to "please" my husband. What he wanted, he was to have.

I tried to articulate the enormity of a bankrupt marriage, but was always put in my place. They were right. I was wrong. To this day I am helpless when confronted with emotional, spiritual, and psychological attack--I never won and I can never go to that dark place again.

Yet just as Wayne and my friends in Tempe brought song to my life, so did my baby. Six pounds, one ounce. A bushel of joy.


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