In February of 1968 my husband had attempted to kill me but my foreman stepped in and saved my life. My foreman took me home and his wife dressed my wounds and cared for me. My husband stayed at our trailer and trashed the place. He left that night and took most of his things with him.
My father came back to NE and brought my brother and his new wife to stay with me so I would be safe. While my father was there, he took us to Wichita to see my grandmother. While we were there my husband called and told my if I wasn't home in two hours he was going to kill himself. That really freaked me out. I called his supervisor and told him what my husband said. He ended up losing his job but they did find him alone with a loaded gun.
When we returned to NE I tried to put my life back together. My husband became my stalker. In 1968 a husband could legally do anything he wanted where his wife was concerned. There was nothing I could do. He was always following me, peeking in windows, and calling me. I feared for my life. In April when it was apparent that I was indeed pregnant, I got a visit from my foreman's wife. My husband had told her the baby I was carrying was her husband's. She threatened to kill me if I ever came near her husband again. I called my dad and he came and got me.
Living with my parents was hard after having my own home but my pregnancy became very difficult so I had no options. In my first pregnancy I only gained six pounds. I never really looked pregnant but I was bigger at three months than I was at full term this time. The doctor told me in July that my date was off and that I could have the baby any day. (I was originally due in November.)
I had three dreams that I was having twins. It was always a boy and a girl and the boy died. I talked to the doctor about the dreams and he told me there was no way. It was just a big boy. I October they induced me. They were afraid the baby was to big for me to deliver. I gave birth to four and a half pound twins. A boy first and fifteen minutes later a girl. I hemorrhaged and almost died. My son began to immediately lose weight. The doctor told me he had been lodged in the birth canal and had been unable to move so he was constantly moving now to make up for it. I really thought we were going to lose him. It was over a week before they released me and we lived thirty miles from the hospital. It was hard to get in to see them. I would stand at the nursery window and cry. (in those days you couldn't hold them or even touch them) I would cry out to God to save them. My church didn't believe in healing but if God could save me he could save my son, right? my dad would stand there the whole time and complain about my falling apart (he hated it when any one cried) and then he would say over and over ''if I could get my hands on that baby I could get him to eat!"
I never knew how important an ounce could be as my son slowly lost weight. At three pounds and two ounces it didn't look good. God is good and His mercy endures forever and my son slowly began to gain back the weight. When they reached five pound we took them out of the hospital and left to return to NE.
I now had three children two and under and my life looked like it was too much to bear. God had saved my son but what could I do now. I took a long time for me and the babies to gain strength to go on. Slowly I rallied and my parents helped me to go on. I lived with them for two years. I finally found a job and paid off my medical expenses but there was not enough for anything else. My parents helped me as much as they could but finally after two years I moved into my grandmothers little house. (She had recently died) Her house was in Berwyn, a tiny little village of less that a hundred people. I loved having my own home. I got to fix it up some. God was indeed good. I started a new chapter.
How about you, do you need to start over? Do you believe God can heal? Do you believe He even cares?
God always makes a way even if there seems to be no way?
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