Before I begin I would like to add that my memory isn't the best and some of these things may be a little out of order or small details accidentally rearranged but to the best of my memory, this is accurate. 
I arrived in San Diego in early October.  My sister got me a job at a cell phone company she worked for and I started working two days after I got there.  I found a nice lady who offered day care just a couple of miles from our home and on the way to work.  My parents had some rules... a curfew which I wouldn't need for a while as my life was consumed by my job and my son, and that I needed to attend church on Sundays among other things.  So here I was 27 years old.  I had an infant and was not married and was living with my parents.  I had left a pretty good job and was now working as a sales person.  I was exausted, poor, lonely, depressed and I admit... unhappy.  It's amazing how the choices you make can shape your life.  I loved my son and that's what kept me going. 
As time went on, I stopped resenting my parents for the situation I was in.  I guess I had regressed to the attitude of a teenager where nothing is your fault.  After having gone to church for around six months or so, I finally started to enjoy it.  I started going to the singles ward in Escondido and made some friends.  Friends sure do make a world of difference.   If anything, being a young parent will mature you quickly.  I was realizing the value of all things my parents tried to teach me.  Sorry Mom and Dad for taking so long to learn those things.  During this time, I gained a testimony of the truthfullness of the gospel.  I was able to go through the temple and attend my brother's wedding.  It was around this time that I met "L".  What a wonderful person.  She is THE kindest person I've ever met, the most Christlike person I've ever met.  We would laugh together and cry together and she taught me so much.  She has cerebral paulsey so she needs help with many things.  It was such a joy to serve her and be with her.  We ended up working  in the temple together for two years.  She is still one of my greatest friends.  Life was getting better.  I had good friends, I had Heavenly Father in my life to help me through the hard days and I even had a couple boyfriends.  They didn't last very long because I wasn't mature enough to handle a real relationship.  When Elijah was two and a half, I was working for an engineer.  One of the ladies there said that she wanted to set me up with a youner guy in her ward.  I later heard he was the most elidgeable bachelor there.  So we met at a fireside.  It wasn't love at first sight but he was handsome and seemed really nice.  We exchanged info and arranged a date.  I was really scared because I had blown the last two relationships I was in.  I prayed a lot.  It's amazing that Heavenly Father can bless you with what you ask no matter how silly or trivial it may be. 
We don't use his name much at our house and for all that I've been through, I don't even like repeating his name.  Whenever a subject gets brought up that involved him we refer to him as "he who can't be named".  Thanks J. K. Rowling for that great reference... very fitting.  :) 
So we set up our first date.  We both had a child and so we thought it fitting to meet at Chuck E Cheese or some entertaining kids place like that.  We had a great time and he seemed like a great Dad.  We went to the temple together and he asked if he could hold my hand.  How polite right?  He was so chilvalrous and kind.  The day after our first date, I got two dozen roses delivered from him.  Wow! I had never been treated like that before!  He swept me right off of my feet.  He told me about his past and I told him about mine.  We both had made big mistakes but were in the right place now and that's all that mattered. We dated for months before he asked me at the temple if I would marry him.  I had been thinking in that direction but wasn't expecting a proposal that night.  I was so excited.  I was in love and the ring was beautiful.  I went home and prayed about this man and this marriage and got the most wonderful feeling.  We were sealed on September 9th of 2000.  We spent our honeymoon in Palm Desert.  His parents had a condo out there.  We looked through old photos together and I learned that he had brought his first wife to the same place for THEIR honeymoon.  ewww.  Oh well, I let go, what do you do at that point?  Life was good for the first couple of months.  We soon had our first married spat and that's when he called me the "B" word.  My stomach dropped.  Didn't we just get married in the temple?  That's not how eternal families treat each other!  Day by day after that, it got worse and worse.  Before long, the "B" word was a household word and feeling hurt and belittled was common place.  About a year after we were married I went to see the bishop because of all the problems we were having.  He couldn't believe it.  I told him how "he who can't be named" wouldn't say prayers or want to read scriptures as a family and how he was emotionally abusive and called me a "B" all the time.  It seemed like Dr. Jeckyl and Mr. Hyde to him because "he who can't be named" didn't act that way at church, he even said prayers in bishopric meetings.  (He was the elders quorum pres.)
One night, my son Elijah was crying.  He was three and half and I suppose he was having a bad dream.  "He who can't be named" wouldn't let me go console him.  Soon Elijah was banging at our door crying.  I got up, "He..." said, if you go out, you can't come back in. Sounds crazy right?  Why not?  I don't know.  I started crying in my bed and wouldn't face him.  This upset him and he came over to pick my up like how you would hold a baby with one hand under the neck and the other under the knee.  If it were today, I would have left and slept on the couch without thinking twice but I was nonconfrontational and somewhat timid and just cried and prayed.  Well, I didn't want to be kicked out so when he started picking me up I started kicking to be put down.  I inadvertantly kicked him in the face.  If you thought he was mad before, omg.  He went into the kitchen and picked up the phone.  He said he was calling 911.  WHAT??  On ME???  I was just defending myself.  I started thinking of the cops being there with the lights and the neighbors and the rumors.  I started to worry if he would tell stories and that somehow the cops would believe him like the bishop and somehow I would end up in jail.  I cried so hard and begged him not to call.  I don't remember anything after that, except that Elijah and I were both still crying and then it was morning.  Can you say silent treatment??  A couple days later, it was a Saturday I remember because he was supposed to be at a priesthood meeting which I later found out was about spousal abuse.  ha ha ha.  Not a good one to miss buster.  I was sitting on the floor organizing something in the bookcase.  He said something to me and I gave some sarcastic response.  The next thing I knew, he was on top of me, pushing my face into the carpet.  I couldn't move an inch.  I felt small like piece of dust and worthless.  It was useless to try to get out from under him so I just waited until he was through.  At this point, believe it or not, I still loved him but I was not in love anymore. The cuddly love feeling had been replace by some empty hole.  One day, Elijah was sitting on his lap and "He.." slapped him in the face.  The mark was there for almost a week.  Elijah was three.  What could a three year old do to deserve that?   "He..." didn't admit to it right away even though the handprint was very obvious.  When he finally admitted it, he said it was because Elijah peed on his leg.  I'm sure it's because he was afraid of "Him".  I went to my bishop again this time with "Him".  I had made the bishop promise not to tell before because I was worried what "He.." would do if "He..." found out.  The bishop said there was nothing he could do if he couldn't talk to "Him" so I agreed to come in together.  So there we were.  Somehow "He.." found out I had been there a handful of times "complaining" about him and he lost it.  If it were a cartoon, you would be able to see smoke coming from his nostrils.  "He..." starting pointing his finger at the bishop and I and calling us liars an hipocrits and then he stormed out.  "He.." used to drive a one of those loud chuga luga trucks.  We could hear him just sitting there in his truck for about 5 minutes.  The bishop asked me if he could follow me home.  I agreed.  In that church there is a long hall way before you leave.  I said a prayer that if "He.." killed me, that someone would take good care of Elijah.  I think if you're praying about your husband possibly killing you and it isn't a dream, that's not a good marriage to be in.  I'd seen all the shows about abusive partners and "He.." fit the bill 100%.  All the red flags were there. 
On the days that things weren't horrible, they were ok, sometimes even good.  It's how we stayed together for as long as we did. 
On Christmas, we drove to Utah to spend time with our families.  I brought "L" along. We played Christmas music because well, it was Christmas.  "He.." put headphones on.  The big clunky ones.  I was sitting next to Scrooge himself.  Well, "He.." was on one.  He started playing his typical music with vulgar messages and words that would make your Mother cringe.  We had small children in the truck and "L" to boot. I didn't want them exposed to that filth.  I reached up and turned it off.  He slapped my hand and we fishtailed to a stop right in the middle of the road where he called me a "B" and told me to get out.  I don't think so.  I told him if he called me "B" one more time I would leave him.  I don't know that being called a "B" is worthy of leaving a marriage but I had to draw to draw the line somewhere I was tired of how he treated me.  Well it might have been another 10 minutes before he called me that again.  I made the decision right then I would leave to teach him a lesson and think about how he was treating me.  I gave me Dad the keys to our house and told him to get weeks worth of my things and I would just go home to my parents as soon as we got back to California.  The next day, "L" and I went to the temple in Salt Lake, "He.." didn't want to go.  On the way home, I asked what we were going to do that night and he said he "HE" was going to the movies but he didn't know what I was doing.  I just looked out the window the whole way home.  We were supposed to go sledding with some friends after the temple.  "He.." said he didn't feel like going and went to lay down.  I went to lay down with him.  That's when he said "I want a F..ing divorce".  I started bawling.  Where did that come from?  He took off in his truck.  I called my sister.  She came and got me and Elijah and "L".  She started ripping the buttons off of his shirts but I yelled at her to stop.  I just wanted to get out of there.  Then "He.." pulled in the driveway.  He asked where I was going.  I reminded him of what he had just told me.  He said I "took it out of context."  WHATEVER!!  We left.  As soon as we got to my sisters house, I took my name off of all of his credit cards and his name off of all of mine.  I bought plane tickets for the three of us and we left the next morning.  My Dad was home and unbeknownst to me had emptied all of my things out of the house.  I had said one weeks worth.  I was glad though.  I ended up staying with my parents for about two months.  During that time.  "He.." came to my job and asked me lunch... something he had never had time for before now.  We started going to marriage counseling and he started going to anger management.  He made a bunch of promises and I wanted desperately to believe them.  Things were really rocky but we thought we'd give it another try to try and save the marriage.  For the first two weeks, it was just like right after we were married.  Then he stopped going to anger management and started drinking again.  I had found out after we were married that he was an alcoholic.  A dry one but one nonetheless.  This drinking again wasn't good.  I wonder though if he had been doing for a long time and was hiding it.??  Well, needless to say this trial flopped.  I spoke with his ex-wife and found out that he had been abusive with her, put her in the hospital.  She'd had a restraining order out on him and that's why they got divorced.  I decided that I wanted no more to do with this marriage.  This is when I found out I was pregnant.  GREAT!!! 
"He.." told me would keep the baby or we could place it for adoption but that if I tried to keep it, he would "fight tooth and nail" for it.  I prayed like never before.  After single parenting and knowing the life she would be subjected to with "Him" if I kept her, I decided to place. 
SEE, I told you it would tie into adoption.  I know I'm forgetting tons of details so forgive me if I go back and forth at times. 
I called my sister who had been telling me forever to leave that blankety blank jerk to come get me.  Within 48 hours she was there with a truck.  We loaded up my things, Jerry rigged the truck and headed to Utah.  I've got a great pic of the truck.. I 'll dig it up and post it.   
Well, time to get the girls ready for bed.  I'll find that pic and write more later.  Have a wonderful day!!  :)