Jackson #3
The group home was where I met your father, Blake.
He was living there, too, waiting to age out of the system.
He was seventeen, and I was fourteen. I was mature for my age, or thought that I was, after surviving all that time with a heroin addict mother, horrible foster families, living on the streets, and staying in shelters until Child Protective Services found me again.
Your dad made me feel seen, and I had never experienced that before.
He said that he would protect me, and that I would not have to deal with it ever again when he aged out.
I thought I was in love, that we could survive anything together since we had withstood the shitty world on our own so far.
When he turned eighteen and I was fifteen, he was able to leave the group home.
The plan was that he would get us a place, and then I would run away one last time, but this time, I would be running to him.
He started working at a bar as a busser, and that was when he was introduced to the Lost Knights.
Everyone in this town knew about them, but they were still afraid.
Back then, they didn’t try to hide the darker things that they were into.
Blake started to prospect for them, and came to see me when he could.
When he was in his second year of prospecting—twenty years old and about to be patched in—I had just found out that I was pregnant with you.
We kept it a secret until he was patched in.
He brought me around a few times to see the clubhouse, but no one knew at that point that I was underaged.
After he was patched, he told them when I was about three months pregnant.
They were upset, to say the least, but by the time you were born, I had turned eighteen.
I thought we were so happy. I started to take classes at the community college, and was able to take you with me with the free childcare they offered.
The only thing that was a constant issue in our lives was Andrea.
She had her beady little eyes on your father.
I thought it was normal, because all the women fell for him a little when they saw him with you.
He was always involved and loved spending time with you.
I noticed your father started to pull away from us when you were about eight months old.
He had more “club business” and stopped coming home every night.
By the time you were one, he was only with us two nights a week.
He slowly stopped being my Blake, the boy that always protected me in the group home, and started to become “Griz.” Somedays, I couldn’t even recognize him.
When you were two, he came and said that he was going to take you to the clubhouse for an event, and that I couldn’t come.
He just packed you a bag and left. I called him all night, becoming more worried as it got later.
I went to the clubhouse the next morning, and they would not even let me in the gate.
Your father and Andrea walked up, hand in hand.
Your father told me that he decided to make Andrea his ‘Ol Lady and that I was no longer needed.
He said that you would stay with him, and I needed to leave our rental house.
He let me know that Andrea was a better fit in the club, and better mother material.
I broke down and refused to leave without you. I absolutely lost it.
The old President came out and said if I didn’t leave, he would make me.
He said that if I came around the clubhouse again, he would let the enforcer show me why that was a bad idea.
I was shattered. After everything we went through.
After loving him since I was fourteen, six years, and a beautiful baby boy, he still did this to me.
I went back to the rental and cried for a day until the club sent a prospect and Andrea to help me move out.
And by help, I mean they stood behind me as I packed, letting me know that she was pregnant and now she could give Blake a complete family that he could be proud of.
That she would make sure to raise my son so he didn’t even remember that he had a real mother.
That Blake had been hers for months, and now that you were older, you didn’t need your birth mother anymore.
I guess the prospect was there to make sure that I could not hit her back after she pulled my hair or slapped me or broke the few things that were mine in the house.
He also was there to give me a note from your father.
It said that I could keep the car since he didn’t need it, but besides that, I was on my own.
I had a small amount of my belongings packed as I got in the car.
At that point, I realized I had nowhere to go.
Your dad bought me my car so I could take you around and go to my classes.
He said to not worry about working because I had so much to take care of, and that he would handle taking care of us.
I looked up shelters to stay at until I figured out how to get you back.
I just turned twenty, had no family, no friends, because everyone knew that I was associated with the club, no money, a GED, and a few college classes
The closest women’s shelter was two counties over.
That made it easier to get a job. I doubted anyone would hire me in Hidden Hills because, being the small town that it was, they knew I was with your father.
It was during my stay in the women’s shelter that I found out I was pregnant again.
Now I knew I had to work even harder to get a stable place for me, you, and the baby away from the MC.
The MC ruined our lives, and I wanted to have nothing to do with it.
I didn’t tell your father that I was pregnant again.
He already took one of my babies, and I was not going to let him have another for his new “family.” I wrote letters to him, begging him to let me see you.
I sent them to the rental since I didn’t know the PO Box that the MC used.
One day, my letters started getting returned to me.
I assumed that he moved from the rental, and I had no idea where he lived.
He also changed his number, and I didn’t have anyone else in the MC.
They always distanced themselves from me.
They hated that I was the “jailbait” that could have taken everyone down when I started coming around.
They were annoyed at your father, but because he was patched in at that point, they were loyal to him.
I was never really around the clubhouse because of my age, and after I turned eighteen, I had school and a new baby to take care of.
I never had any of their support and was never part of their “found family.”
After that, I started writing letters to you every day in a journal that I could give to you someday.
I was able to get my own low-income apartment when I was about six months pregnant.
I was working three part-time jobs at that point.
It was hard, but I felt like all I had was spare time.
I could work, save, and keep my mind off the constant fear.
The fear that I would never get you back, the fear that I would have a new baby to love and raise alone, and the fear that your father would somehow find out and take my second baby, and I would be left with nothing.
A little while after I started buying secondhand furniture, baby items, and things to help make the baby feel at home, I went into labor early.
The doctors said it was because I put my body under too much stress.
I had your sister four months early, and it was very touch and go.
I honestly thought she wouldn’t make it.
I lost you and missed you every day, but I knew you were alive out there and were taken care of.
I didn’t think I would be able to survive another heartbreak.
Your sister survived. She was a little fighter, and I knew that she was strong enough to face anything.
She stayed in the NICU for a few months before I could bring her home, and in that NICU is where I met my husband and sons for the first time.
We were both alone, living in the same hell, waiting for any updates that could mean our children would be okay.
We formed a friendship over those months, and when he learned that I lost my jobs and apartment because I was at the hospital so much with your sister, he talked me into staying with him and being a nanny for his triplets.
He didn’t have any support either, and his girlfriend died because of a complicated birth to the triplets.
He lived in Tennessee, but we moved when your sister, Willow, and the triplets were released.
I hated going to a different state and being even further away from you, but I had a plan.