She cried. She broke out into sobs and cries suddenly. We were in the middle of Walmart and walking down a main isle of the frozen food section. I heard a whimper amd looked down just in time to see her tears flow.
"What is wrong baby?!"
"I wanna see my daddy and Stacy." She began crying harder. I stopped in the middle of yhe isle, scooped her up and hugged her as tight as I could.
My eyes swelled with tears as hers fell on my shoulder. She said "I want my daddy."
All I could say was "I love you baby."
People passed by starring as I held her, as we both had tears falling.
I do not know if people heard her sobbong for her father. But I know how bad it hurt me to not be able to tell her everything will be okay. Because I do not know that it will be okay in her eyes years from now. I cannot tell her why she cannot see her father. Because it may devastate her and her opinion of police officers vs "the bad guys." I cannot tell her what her father did. Because there is no right way to tell a four year old girl that her father is a drunk and pushed his pregnant girlfriend around,  like he tried to do with her mother for years.
Is there a way to explain what aggravated battery on a pregnant female is to a little girl who yells at her mother for saying something is "stupid"? Because if so, do tell.

As much as I could and should point fingers, I am just as much to blame. Why? After all, he did this. He pushed her, smacked her, or whatever he did. It is not like anyone knows. They BOTH were intoxicated.
Again, I am to blame as well. I let it go. I never stood up for myself until my daughter was born. Even then I let things continue to an extent. "Just don't drink while the kids are with you."

And it worsened to this. Me holding my daughter while she experiences her first heart break. I find myself questioning who ultimately broke her heart?

It was not the first time he asked me. Nor was he the first person to ask me. He had a wrinkle between his eye brows as he starred at me in confusion amd almost disgust.
"What did you see in him?!"
I had not really thought about the truth to the answer in that question until it continue d to haunt me.

What did I see in a person that broke me down mentally and psychologically for years?

I obsessively ran his words and disappointing tone through my mind. It worsened because it went further back.
What did I see in a man that habitually cheated? What did I see in a man that had gradually become abusive by shoving me into a stone pillar and bouncing my head off a car dash board? What had I seen in a man that stuck a loaded gun to the back of my skull with intent to punish me for accidentally driving over a curb?
What had I seen?
What does any abused person see in their abuser?

All at once it occured to me that it did not matter. Regardless of what I had once believed I falsely saw in any person, I needed to ask a different question.

What was it that I did not see in myself? What was it that made me believe I deserved that treatment? What was wrong with me to allow it to happen more then one time and with more then one person?

It takes a lot to forgive someone who has beaten and broken another. But it takes so much more to forgive oneself for allowing it to happen.