If I could have kept my baby boy away from that monster, things would be so much different. I, however, have chosen to forgive him and have since divorced him and moved to another city, where I have started a brand new life.

My name is Wendee Jade Hessman.  I am a 23-year-old mother of a very beautiful little boy, Kourtland Jeremiah, whom I happen to love with all my being.  Kourtland is going to be one year old next week and already I'm planning a very special birthday celebration for him, in his honor.  Heaven knows, after the rough start he had in life, he certainly deserves it.

When he was born, Kourtland weighed 7 pounds even: a beautiful baby boy with red hair and huge, grey-blue eyes: the perfect picture of health.  His arrival announced promise and hope for the future.  I was hoping that Kourtland's birth would bring Jimmy* and I back together, but if anything, things got worse.  Jimmy took up drinking because he couldn't handle fatherhood and two weeks later, the world in which we knew was rocked forever.

Jimmy couldn't stand the sound of his baby boy crying.  He was also angry because he had been fired from his last job and so he took his anger out on Kourtland.  He picked him up out of his crib and threw him against the wall.  He then fled the house.  Later I came home from the store, only to find my precious baby boy lying limp and blue on the floor: I screamed; I thought he was dead.

There was no note from Jimmy telling me of what happened or why: just an unlocked door, paper and furniture upended, and the horrifying sight of Kourtland lying on the ground.  He looked more dead than alive.  I thought Jimmy had killed him.

I called for a neighbor to call for an ambulance when I discovered that Kourtland wasn't breathing.  I started CPR on my son, praying desperate prayers in my mind for him to start breathing again.  There was no telling how long my baby had been in this state, but I, as his mama, was willing to do everything possible to save his life.

I don't remember much afterwards, but I do remember the doctors telling me that Kourtland was hopelessly brain damage as a result of the abuse he had suffered at the hand of my husband.  That was when I decided to press charges and have an arrest warrent put upon him in case he should ever show his sorry butt on my property.  I didn't want Jimmy anywhere near my baby.

I then left him after Kourtland was released from the hospital several months later.  By then he had awakened from his coma, but his little brain/mind was shattered forever.  He would need round-the-clock care and would have to breathe with a ventilator: he could no longer breathe on his own without help.

By now, Kourtland was six months old. 

When he came home, I had to learn all the nuances of caring for a medically fragile child.  It was very scary, but I had friends and family to help me, and I had very good nurses to train me.  As I became more sure of how to handle the equipment, I made up my mind to keep Kourtland here at home with me and care for him, as only a mother should.  I loved him all the more: he may have no longer been the same, but Kourtland was still my baby boy, and I was determined to give him the best life possible, even in the face of uncertain circumstances.

Since he got the tracheotomy and the respirator (as well as a feeding tube) placed, Kourtland's health has improved.  He is blind and no longer sees, but I know he hears and senses me and those who come to care for him.  Whenever he hears us singing or talking to him, his face breaks out in a huge smile and he laughs in his own special way, waving his arms and legs wildly.  The look of joy on his face is enough to melt anybody's heart.

He loves people and enjoys it whenever we take him places.  Sure, people are intimidated by his wheelchair and breathing and intravenous equipment, but underneath all that people still see a beautiful little boy who is on the cusp of becoming a toddler.  Kourtland brings out the best in people and it doesn't take long for people to forget that he is disabled and see that he is very much a happy little boy.

I know my story is rather disturbing in parts, but as I said in the beginning, I chose to forgive my ex husband and raise Kourtland as I see fit.  He belongs here at home with me; it is more feasible and a lot less expensive than it would be if he were to languish in a nursing home or specialized hospital being cared for by strangers.

And I have God on my side.  He's been instrumental in getting me (and Kourtland) this far.  If I can continue to trust or depend on God, then Kourtland (and I) will both be better off in the long run.

~To be continued.~