Friday, July 7, 1961- My Birth
Johny called the hospital to see if Mette had given birth. He was told he had a baby boy. He brought flowers to give to Mette and told her congratulations on their new son. Mette asked him, “What son?” she was still in labor and had not given birth yet. It turned out someone else at the hospital had just had a baby boy. Johny was not allowed in the room while Mette was giving birth, he was asked to go in the waiting room and they would come get him when the baby had been born.
This is where my story begins. I was born at 9:07 a.m. I asked my mom to tell me about my birth. This is what she told me:
“After I gave birth to you the nurse placed you in a crib next to me. You started to cry, I was tired and wanted to rest so I kept wishing you would be quiet. You continued to cry for two and a half hours! You found two of your fingers and started to suck on them until you fell asleep. Finally, I could get some rest!”
I was surprised to learn she never picked me up or tried to feed or comfort me. I guess you could say I learned right from the very start to rely on those two fingers and that my mom would not make too much of a fuss over me when I cried or needed her help.
In August my mother and Grandmother Helfred brought Sander and I on a trip to Germany to visit with Ada who was Grandma’s sister. We traveled by bus and by train to get there.
While we were there Ada could tell I was trying to walk on my own. She bought me a pair of shoes so she could teach me how to walk. Ada practiced with me until I finally was able to walk on my own. At the end of our three-week visit, Dad drove to Germany in his car to pick us up. Dad stayed for the weekend, and then it was time to go back to Denmark.
My parents had rented a summer house. We spent a few days together. It was the only vacation we went on together as a family before they got divorced. I was only 18 months in the picture. Even though I was so young I still remember being so frustrated at trying to eat the orange with all those seeds in it.
I tried to ask my brother to help me with the seeds, but he just smiled, cause I am sure he didn’t understand what I was trying to say.
The only family picture that was ever taken of all 4 of us. The picture was taken just before they got divorced.
January 1963
Mom had been baptized a member of the Mormon Church but had stopped going to church when she moved away from her childhood home. Mom was having a hard time in her marriage, so she decided to go back to church. Dad didn’t know anything about the Mormons but he didn’t mind that she started to go to the meetings on Sundays.
June 1963
In the ward Mom was attending, there was a lady named Agnes. Mom told Agnes she was thinking about separating from her husband. Agnes told Mom that she was welcome to move in with her until she could find a place of her own.
While Dad was at work Mom arranged for a moving truck and a few members to come and help us move out. Dad told me later it was very hard on him to come home from work and find his family gone and the apartment empty.
One of my first memories happened while we were living in Agnes’ house. I was only 18 months old at the time. I remember being in my crib, Mom was about to put me down so I could take a nap. As she was putting me to bed, I saw a scary shadow in the form of a man on the wall. I could not talk yet, so I started to cry and point to the shadow. I tried to cling to Mom as she was putting me down. Mom just pulled me off of her and laid me in the crib and then proceeded to walk out of the room. I was doing all I could to try to help her understand how terrified I was of this shadow on the wall. It was looking at me. I could hear Agnes say to Mom, “It sounds like there is something wrong with Anne-Mette. Shouldn’t you go pick her up?” I could tell Agnes understood something was wrong so I cried even louder hoping to be understood. Mom said, “No, she is fine, she just needs to go to sleep.” I felt hopeless. I looked over at the shadow on the wall again, and I could see it was laughing at me. I hid my head under my blanket so I couldn’t see the shadow, then I cried myself to sleep.
This memory always bothered me, so when I was older I asked my mom about the shadow on the wall and what had happened right after she had moved away from Dad. Mom said, “You couldn’t have remembered, you were too young!” She then proceeded to tell me.
“After you had slept I came to pick you up. Agnes said, “Something is wrong because your baby is acting strange and so is the cat and birds. It’s as if they are looking at something that is present in the apartment.” Whatever was present started to throw a basket of clothespins all over the apartment. Agnes said, “There must be evil spirits here.” Agnes and I decided to try to see if we could cast them out by raising our arms to the square and commanding them to leave. It was quiet for a few minutes, but then things started to fly around again. Agnes and I realized we needed to get a hold of a priesthood member, so he could bless the apartment. Agnes didn’t have a phone so we had to run to the phone booth on the corner. We called and got a hold of the missionaries. When the Elders arrived, things stopped moving by themselves. We told the Elders what had happened. The Elders then used their priesthood authority and cast out whatever evil was present. After they had blessed the place, a peaceful feeling filled the apartment.”
Mom was very surprised that I was still able to remember and could give my account of what had taken place that day.
I remembered a lot of things from way back then. I also remember while we were staying with Agnes, Dad came and asked Mom to go out to a restaurant and eat dinner with him. While we were eating Dad pleaded with Mom to come back. I felt bad because he was crying. I had never seen him cry before. He kept saying, “We can work it out.” Mom just sat there, shaking her head. Dad said, “Please give it another try. What about the kids? Think about them!” Sander said, “Yes, Mom can’t we go back to live with Dad again?” Mom just kept shaking her head no. Her mind was made up. She wanted a divorce.
August 1963
Mom found a job and an apartment where we were to live. Sander and I had to go to daycare. It was something new and scary for us. I cried the first few times we were left there. It didn’t take long for me to understand that no one seemed to care if I cried. Since Sander and I were not the same age we were placed in different rooms. We had to get used to a new life and all new people. I think if we had been allowed to stay together it would have made the whole ordeal much less terrifying for me.
When Sander and I were allowed outside to play we could see each other through the chain link fence. We ran towards each other, I stuck my fingers through the hole and Sander held my hand until it was time to go back inside again. Whenever I was allowed to go outside, it was comforting to be able to see him through the fence.
Going to the daycare took some time to get used to. I watched parents dropping off their children, while their kids were crying they would walk away. I wanted to tell the kids not to cry because no one was listening. I wanted to say, “Can’t you see, your parents are leaving, they are not coming back just because you cry!” Since I was so young, I didn’t know how to communicate with the crying children, instead, I just stood by the window with my nose pressed against the glass watching their parents leave and then I looked at the children as they were crying, wishing I knew how to comfort them.
Sander started to act differently, he seemed angry about being at the daycare all day long. One evening when Mom had picked us up she put me in the baby carriage just like she always did. This day instead of going home, we went down to the corner store. Even though Sander was only four years old she asked him to watch me while she went inside the store. As soon as Mom was out of sight he grabbed the handle and started to bang the carriage back and forth. I was scared of falling out, so I started to cry. Sander didn’t care instead he continued to bang the handle back and forth even more violently than before. Finally, he managed to tip the baby carriage vertically. Luckily Mom had tucked the blanket tightly around me, so it kept me from falling out.
When Mom saw the carriage, she asked Sander what had happened. He just stood there looking at the ground. I wanted to tell her what he had done, but since I was only two years old I was not able to say much. Instead, I cried really loud to let her know I was scared. Mom tipped the carriage back on its wheels and told Sander to be more careful with me.
After this incident, I dreaded being in the carriage alone with Sander because as soon as no one was around he would start to bang it around again. Even though I never got hurt, it frightened me. The worst part was, the more I cried the harder he would bang the carriage.
Over the next few years, his behavior grew worse. As we got older he started to slap and punch me. Mom would be right there, and I would call on her so she could stop him. In the beginning, Mom would say, “You two stop fighting.” Or “I will knock your heads together if you don’t stop.” Or “Here we go again!” Then she would turn to me and say, “You just had to provoke him again didn’t you?” Since I knew Mom wasn’t going to come to my defense I would do all I could to stay out of his way, or I would give in to his demands. No matter how hard I tried he would still find an excuse to hit me. When I called for help, Mom would tune me out by singing the song called, “When There’s Love at Home.” I grew to hate that song! Meanwhile, Sander would proceed to hit me and pound my head into the floor. The louder I yelled for help, the louder Mom’s singing got and the harder he would hit me. When she would sing, it was as if she thought she was an opera singer and she seemed to enjoy how her voice sounded. I learned to survive by holding still until he decided I had had enough. As I got older I also learned if I bit him as hard as I could and hung on long enough with my teeth, he would eventually stop hitting me.
Fall 1963
Sander was almost six years old now, so Mom got him a bike and taught him how to ride it. She also got one for herself. It had a child seat attached for me to sit in. I hated going in the seat because whenever Mom had gas she would press her behind as hard as she could into my face and then she would fart. She would think it was so funny whenever she was able to do this. Mom would then look over at Sander to see if he had seen what had just happened. They both laughed. I could not say many words at this age but I had learned a few cuss words from my dad and I used them because I wanted her to stop. The more I cussed, the more she would laugh. I could not understand why she would do this to me, or why it was so funny to her.
The hours seemed to last forever at the daycare. I was so happy when Mom finally, came to pick us up. By the end of the day, she was tired and didn’t seem to have much time or energy for us. She was easily frustrated. I remember spilling my milk. She slapped me really hard across the face and told me how stupid I was. I accidentally spilled my milk again a few days later. She told me never to do it again. Each time she would slap me, and it seemed to be even harder than before. Neither the slapping nor the name-calling taught me to stop spilling, instead, it made me feel really terrible about myself.
Friday, November 29, 1963
My parent’s divorce was finalized. Mom would not let Dad see Sander and me very often, so Dad went to court to see if he could get custody of us.
Spring 1964
Sander and I were told we had to go to court. The court would decide who we were going to live with. On the way there Mom kept asking us over and over, “Who do you want to live with?” We were to answer, “You, Mom.” Sander started to question this. After we had rehearsed it a few times Sander said, “I am going to say both of you!” I wanted to be brave like him but I was afraid, so I answered her question the way she wanted me to.
Dad fought hard to get legal custody of us, but in those days, fathers seldom won this battle. He was ordered part custody of us. Friday evenings when Dad was done with work he was allowed to come and pick us up. He was to bring us back again Sunday evening.
On Friday Mom picked us up from the daycare center and took us home. She didn’t want to see Dad, so she told us to wait on the street corner until he came to pick us up.
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