As God Is My Witness: Ginnie's Story

By Carol Ann Conlin

A trust is stolen, betrayed. A time of innocence is gone. “How could one say such terrible things to a child, not yet a teen, not yet a woman?” How could one commit to such horrific deeds?

One carried a little lamb, a sleep to an evil lair. The little lamb awoke outside the entrance. Her body trembled from within, struggling to awaken from the monster in the night.

The monster in the night laid her in his berth. The lamb begged to let her go, her coffin beaconing from afar. The lamb tried to call out, her mouth opened wide. Her voice is frozen in time, not a sound, not a breath, only tears of horror and of shame remain. The lamb, betrayed in body and in trust, screamed silently into the night. No one answered her, no one heard, and no one cared.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jul 15, 2013
• ISBN: 9781483663142

Carol Ann Conlin

Carol Ann Conlin was one of 12 growing up in rural southern Ontario. She is an award winning fine artist and writer. On completion of college, Carol Ann received an English award in creative writing and her Graphic Arts Diploma. She is a devoted mother who puts her family first. She voluntarily helps others move beyond their pain of past experiences, while inspiring them to have the faith and courage to heal. Carol Ann Conlin is a survivor!

Book preview

Copyright © 2013 by Carol Ann Conlin.

Library of Congress Control Number:   2013912017

ISBN:      Hardcover   978-1-4836-6313-5

                Softcover     978-1-4836-6312-8

                eBook           978-1-4836-6314-2

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Rev. date: 10/06/2016

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Based on a true story

Dedication

Written for my children, for all the survivors of child abuse,

and for their counselors.

Right the truth and let the music come to you.

—Unknown

PREFACE

Ginnie’s note in a bottle!

Give anger a voice a chance to change something,

to make a difference, change something negative to positive.

Written for all my children and for all the survivors of

childhood abuse and their counselors.

May these words help you find support, healing, and peace.

AS GOD IS MY WITNESS

GINNIE’S STORY

R UN! HIDE! THEY’LL be here soon.

My sister ran with me. Meme looked very frightened as she hid me under the bed.

Shh, she said. Please try to be quiet, Ginnie

We often played hide-and-seek. I loved to play, but our game today was much more serious.

They want to take you away! Be very quiet. Shh! Shh! Meme said as she left the room.

Then I heard voices. I recognized the woman’s voice. It was the nice lady whom I had gone to visit, the one with the toys and the little boys.

Meme said, I don’t know where Ginnie is.

Everyone was searching for me. They were playfully calling me. I couldn’t resist anymore. I started to giggle.

Where is she? I can hear little Ginnie, the lady said as she crossed the room.

Meme started to cry. No! Don’t take my baby sister.

My mother and the lady took me out from under the bed. My mommy carried me downstairs to the living room and to my waiting suitcase. My father and older brother Jeff were there to say good-bye.

We are going to miss you bunches. My mother kissed me good-bye with tear-filled eyes.

It’s for her own good, she belongs with her own family, the strange woman replied.

I realized then this wasn’t a game. This was my family. I was terrified. I started crying as I was taken out the door to the waiting car.

No! I want my mommy! I want Meme! I sobbed. Let me go!

Where was I going? What was happening? I knew I was being taken away from my mother, father, Jeff, and Meme, but why?

I had been placed in the care at the receiving home of the Children’s Protective Services (CPS) on April 30, 1954, with my sister and three older brothers. I had been born in the hospital on December 30, 1952, weighing 5 lbs., 5 oz. I was born with a genetic heart problem. I was a blue baby. It was at this time that I received blood from my father in order to survive. My mother was an alcoholic.

The caseworker noted in December 1953, while visiting my home, the tiny baby is very small, looks undernourished and rather neglected. My mother and father had given me and my older sister and brothers to the Children’s Protective Services because they could no longer provide a home for us. I had been in and out of the hospital until this time. I was given a medical examination and made a temporary ward of the Children’s Protective Services for a period of six months. At the time, it was noted, I had been admitted to the hospital with pneumonia in April of this year. I hadn’t been vaccinated because I wasn’t healthy enough to receive them. I was not walking or talking. I was in a walker and very timid.

I was taken to the home of my new family on Sandra Street. My new mother and father had three sons but had lost two of their sons. One son died in a tragic car accident and the other when his ship was bombed off the coast of Brest in W.W.11. They decided that they would like to have two little girls.

My new mother took to me right away. I began to walk and speak. I gained weight. She said I reminded her of her other daughter, Meme. Although several attempts were made for me to see my own family, something would always happen. My own mother didn’t come to see me. My grandmother, however, did visit me. Therefore, I didn’t really get to know my biological family. Finally, one month before my foster family would have been allowed to adopt me, two months before Christmas and my fourth birthday, the court decided I belonged with my biological family. I was on my way. It was 1957. I had been in the care of my adopted family for two and a half years, and as far as I knew, they were my family.

My New Family

The car stopped outside of a small house. The lady opened the car door and lifted me out. She carried me to the front door of the small house, and she began to knock.

It was a sunny day. I could feel the warmth of the sun on my head. I was wearing a red coat and matching hat. A tall thin dark-haired lady answered the door.

Here is your daughter, Mrs. Harland. The lady tried to pass me to the woman, but I was very frightened and began to kick and scream. It was as if I was an object, a thing without feelings or thought. I didn’t want to go with this strange person.

No, please! I want my mommy! I want Meme! I was crying and pleading. No! Please! I want to go home!

The lady said to the stranger, It’s okay, she’s just tired. She will get to know you. Just be patient. Put her in bed, and close the door.

Mrs. Harland carried me down the small hallway, and she threw me into the bed. She will sleep now.

I cried myself to sleep. When I woke, I realized that some of the items in the room were from my own room. There were two native dolls in their little papooses on the wall and my cutouts, Gabby Hayes, Puss, and Spot, the dog. I was allowed to come out of the room. I felt so alone.

Mrs. Harland spoke quietly to me at first. She said, I am your mommy, and these are your brothers.

I thought to myself, You are not my mommy! Jeff is my brother, not these strange-looking fellows.

The tallest boy asked, Where is our other sister?

The lady explained that she had already been adopted; she will not be coming home to live with us. The court decided that your father did something terrible to her and she must stay with her adoptive parents.

I didn’t want any of this. I started to cry again. I was terrified of the new family and my surroundings. I wondered why I was taken away from the people I knew and loved. I ran under the table in the kitchen, where I stayed. I wouldn’t eat or speak to anyone. All I could do was sob. I only came out when I was pulled out and sent to bed.

One day, while under the table, a lady with a kind voice came for tea.

I’m your grandma, Ginnie. Don’t you remember me, honey? I came to visit you. I brought you presents, the lady said.

I did remember the lady and her soft voice.

She said to me, What seems to be your problem?

I started to cry again. I want my mommy.

Shh now. Don’t cry, wee one, she said. I’ll tell you what. If you will come out and visit with us just a little while, I promise you will see your daddy and mommy again, but you must promise to be a good girl.

Will you let me see Mommy? I asked.

I will try, she said.

I agreed with her.

She replied, That’s my good girl.

The tall thin lady had come back into the room. Ginnie, this is your new mommy for now, and these are your older brothers. The two babies in the other room are your little sister and brother. Soon you will have a new little brother or sister. Now you have two families. You are a big sister now.

I asked her if she would let me see my other mommy.

Yes! If you are a very good girl, you will be able to see your other parents, she responded.

I tried very hard to be a good girl after that. I wanted to see my own daddy, mommy, Jeff, and especially my big sister, Meme, again. Days had passed, and then one morning I heard a familiar voice.

Milkman, the voice called out.

I ran to the little window. Daddy! I cried.

Ginnie? Is that my Ginnie? he replied.

Daddy knocked on the front door.

I was so excited. I screamed, Daddy, Daddy!

My new mother opened the door, and I ran into my father’s outstretched arms, placing my arms around his neck as he lifted me up. We gave each other a big hug. I didn’t want to let go.

Daddy! I screamed tearfully.

He said, I’m sorry, I can’t stay long. I brought everyone some chocolate milk. He spoke to my new mother, and they agreed that he could come back once in a while to see me. Then he went back out to his milk cart. We all watched as his horse slowly went up the street and out of sight. I started crying again.

My mother yelled at me, If you ever want to see your daddy again, you will stop that blatting! It won’t get you anywhere. Now stop! If you promise to be good, he can come again. If not, you will never see him again.

I stopped as best as I could. The idea of seeing my dad helped me behave and do whatever was expected of me.

I had gotten up early, and my brothers were making ketchup sandwiches. They were very hungry, and so was I. The older boys gave me a slice and told me to go back to my bed. There was a noise, and someone was moving around. The boys dropped everything and ran. When I looked up, there stood my new mom. She shouted at me for being up and for getting into the bread.

The day got steadily worse. A knock came to the door. My mother grabbed me and shoved me into my room.

Not today, I heard her say to the person at the door.

I heard the door close, and my mother appeared in my room.

She said, I told you that you may only see him if you are good. You were a bad girl. You are not going to see him.

I had heard my daddy’s voice at the door.

I pleaded, Please! I wouldn’t be bad again. I’ll be good.

I didn’t see my daddy. I only heard him.

When my father left, my mother said, I told you what would happen!

My mother allowed me to come out of my room. She looked me straight in the eye. Her face was full of rage. I was very frightened. She grabbed my arm and shook me.

She said, You are a very bad little girl. Because you are so bad and won’t stop that continuous whining, you will never ever see your daddy again. She turned her back and stormed away.

I pleaded with her, No! Please! Please! I am sorry. I will be good. Please! I want to see my mommy and daddy. I will be good for you.

My mother angrily replied, They are not your mommy and daddy. I am your mother. Nothing you say will change my mind. You are a spoiled little brat, and you are nothing but trouble. You have been nothing but trouble from the day you were born. Now you are my daughter, and you will do as I say!

With her last few words, I became angry and frustrated. Behind me on a shelf was a group of little-girl porcelain figurines, one for each month of the year. I knew my new mother loved them. I wanted to let her know how much I was hurt. I wanted to get even. I wanted her to be so angry that she would send me back to my own family. With one sweep of my arm, I swept the shelf clean. The ones that fell to the floor I stomped on.

You little bitch! she bellowed.

She grabbed me by my hair and lifted me into the air. She smacked my face several times, and then she smacked my backside, hitting my back and legs or wherever her hand connected with my body. She tossed me up against the wall, and I fell to the floor. I was so frightened that I wet myself. This made my mother angrier, and she continued to shake me. Finally she left me, flinging me back on the bed in my room.

I lay there sobbing. I didn’t want to leave that bed all day. I was so frightened of her. I had never been hit like that before. My other mother didn’t hit, and she taught me hitting was wrong. I would never see my father again. I hurt so much inside that the beating didn’t hurt as much as the thought of never seeing my daddy again.

I didn’t know what was happening; I only knew that I was terrified and very sad. I was crying inside out, and no one was listening to me. I was a possession to be seen but never heard. I was too frightened to speak. I didn’t want another beating. I knew that I would be punished for breaking her figurines. However, I believed that the beating was worth the punishment because no punishment could be worse than not being allowed to see my mommy, daddy, Jeff, and Meme again.

I had learned it was better not to speak in my new home. This way I was less noticed. I tried very hard not to draw attention to myself, but that didn’t even help. Sometimes I hid under tables or far back from everyone else. I often sat in the hallway watching the others play.

My New Father

That evening I was introduced to a tall dark-haired man about six feet tall and 250 pounds. My brothers and I were to call him daddy. At first he seemed very kind, and he often played with us. He would let me sit on his knee. However, my brothers were not allowed on his knee.

He said, They are to be men, and one man doesn’t sit on the knee of another man.

My new daddy was a rough man. He was always off working hard to feed us. My mother told us he was a wrestler. He wore a mask. He only went in the ring when things had gotten out of hand. He told us he had lost this job because he was bad tempered.

My new daddy liked to play games with us. I was afraid of his games. He sat me on top of the refrigerator and laughed at me when I couldn’t get down. He held me by one leg upside down over his back, and he teased us until we started to cry. He became angry when I cried. He yelled and swore at me and my brothers. He called us babies, and like the big bully he was, he terrorized us.

One of his favorite games was to have us line up and touch the sink. The sink somehow was connected to the electricity, and when we touched it, we got a shock. We touched the sink out of fear. We were afraid of what he might do if we didn’t do as he commanded. This shock treatment was also used at times as a punishment. He would have us hold on to the sink clasping hands until we told him who the guilty party was who had committed the last crime. It could have been almost anything, but most often it was for stealing food.

Meeting My Father’s Friends

My father took me for a drive with his best friend. He seemed very proud of me. He told his friend I was his daughter. We went to his friend’s house, and when my daddy met his friend’s wife, she gave him a big hug and a kiss on the cheek. My new father’s friend drove us home. I sat on my father’s knee in the passenger’s side of the truck. When we arrived home, my mother seemed upset.

She said, What whore have you been with this time?

I was just out with my friend, he responded angrily.

My mother said, Yeah right! I know you only see him because of his wife.

He replied, Oh, forget it! Believe what you will. He went into their bedroom.

My mother came over to me and asked, Did you see your daddy kiss or hug his friend’s wife?

I was happy to tell her yes! I thought it was so nice that she kissed him.

My mother said, You’re a very good girl. Now you sit here and watch TV. She lifted me up and placed me on the sofa. While I was watching the TV, my father appeared in front of me.

Towering above me, he yelled, I’ll teach you to lie, you little bastard! You will never lie to anyone again!

He lifted me up by my throat from the sofa into the air. He dropped me to the floor, kicking me about. He grabbed me and punched me again and again, just like a lifeless rag doll. One blow after another, his hands and shoes pounded my body.

I was screaming, terrified, I’ll be good! I promise I won’t lie again! I didn’t mean to!

I had no idea what I had done or if I had lied. I thought I was going to die. I was so frightened that I felt a stream of water running down my leg, and still the beating continued. I was too frightened to speak now. I just wanted to get away. Then one of my older brothers stepped through the front door as my mother came running into the room stark naked.

She screamed, You are going to kill her! Stop! Stop! She’s only a baby!

She’ll never be a fucking adult! my father screamed.

That was the last thing I remembered. When I awoke, I was lying face down in my bed. A man I would come to know as Uncle Edward and my mother were applying Vicks to my back. It was really burning, but I was too afraid to cry even though every inch of my body hurt. My mother spoke to Uncle Edward as she rubbed my back and legs. He had no right! No right to beat her like this! How could he do this?

Uncle Edward responded, Why did you have to get them back? They were better off where they were!

They are my children, and I wanted them back. They belong with their own kind! Only a child’s biological mother can care for her children’s needs properly, my mother replied.

My Brothers

It didn’t take long to learn that I didn’t belong. My foster mother had given me a large Greyhound bus to remind me of a trip we had taken when I was in her care. My two older brothers broke it up, and one of them had chewed the wheels off it. I was so upset when I had found it that I began to cry. My brother said that the baby had chewed it up, and being a four-year-old, I believed him.

When my mother found the broken bus, she asked me how it had gotten broken. I answered the baby chewed it up. She looked at me for a moment, and then she said that I was lying. You don’t need to lie if you didn’t want the bus. You didn’t have to destroy it and then blame your little brother.

When my father came home, she told him I had broken the bus and lied about it. When he called me to the back porch, I explained, as I had been told the baby chewed it up. When I tried to explain, he picked me up by my right leg and arm, and he tossed me into the far garden at the back of the yard. My leg hurt, and I had trouble getting up because of a small bush that had broken my flight. I didn’t move, just lay there shocked and frightened. What had just happened? I started to limp toward the back porch. My head ached.

My father jeeringly said, "That will teach you for lying. You just can’t tell the truth, can you? That is the second time you have lied. I