The beginning

This is the beginning of me. I am writing this on my blog not to receive pity, but to show that God is real. This is also therapeutic for me. If 5,000 people read it, if 5 people read it, I just hope to help one.




Wednesday, September 24, 1986 JoAnn Shields had a C-section. The past 40 weeks she was expecting a little girl that at this point, turned breech and wrapped the umbilical cord around her neck. I was that little girl. From what I am told I was in position but turned at the last minute. According to my mother, she got cut in half to give birth to me. According to my brother, I looked like an apple. But, to the rest of the world, I was Joanna Marie Shields. All 6lbs 15oz and 19 inches. Of course I don't remember much of baby life (who does?) but what I can remember about my early childhood are pretty happy memories. I was in love with my mama (still am), looked up to my brother, and laughed at my Gran. Until I was about three years old, I talked to no one but my mom and the babysitter. I mean, I was able to talk but I just didn't want to. I was simple like that. If I made up my mind about something, that was it. My mom often tells the story of how she asked when I was going to start talking to people. I answered very simply, "When I'm three." On my third birthday, at the party, I greeted people at the door. Now I don't know what my mom thought, but that should have let her know that I did everything when I was ready.

I remember starting school. I went to Mt. Pisgah Day Care in Orange Mound. My grandmother lived in Orange Mound and cooked for the day care. I only vaguely remember kindergarten. I do remember spending a lot of time with my grandmother. I would go to her house after school until my mom got off. I don't remember having an unhappy childhood, but I do remember one detail about this time in my life. I had a great aunt that lived a block away from my grandmother. Sometimes I would stay there. My great aunt has a daughter that is mentally challenged and the daughter has a male friend that is as well. I was about five years old at the time he sexually abused me. I'm not sure but I think he knew it was wrong because he would tell me not to tell anyone. This was the beginning of shame for me. This was when my innocence was snatched away. I still don't feel comfortable going to my great aunt's house. Little did I know, I would battle with abuse for the better part of my life.

Well...

I haven't posted since Cameron's birthday because I just didn't know what to say. But, now I'm back. A lot has happened since but I'm not going to get into that right now. I have decided to write my story. Not because I think it's interesting. It's actually a pretty painful story. But it has a lot of hope, faith and love. And I want to share it. Hopefully I'll have the first part soon.