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I’m 16. My mama died when I was just a few hours old. She had been told years before not to have any more babies,because she ran the chance of bleeding to death if she did. My dad wanted her to abort me and firmly declared that I could not possibly be his child,because he had been sleeping on the couch for the past year since my older brother and sister were born and hadn’t had sex with her. When I was born I had clubbed feet and a cleft lip. My dad refused to hold me and gave me to his mother until I was 4 years old. That’s how much he hated me!
He came to the US as a refugee when the Soviet Union fell apart. My mama was american. My daddy was so young at the time and he insisted that he had fathered so many kids by his wife(my mama) and a son by another woman that he had no idea how he was going to support his brood.
He has told me on several occasions that if he had attempted to raise me from birth he probably would’ve done something crazy like smother me with a pillow!
My granny,his mother, fled here to the UK. About a year after mama died, daddy brought my older brothers and sister and moved here,too. He finished university and became successful, but even his success hasn’t made him love me! I have my “niche” in the family,yet my dad never seems to quite as proud of me as he is everyone else.
My mama had a few kids when she married my dad. I have asked about them and guess what he tells me? “Be glad I kept you, dammit!”
My older siblings tell me to keep my mouth shut about our half-siblings and be glad I live here,too! Sometimes when he’s really mad my dad refers to as “the B*stard”.