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  LONG BLUE LINE

  Based on a True Story

  E. McNew

  "Never let any obstacle, no matter how great or small, stand in your way of living for your passion and fighting for what you believe in. We get one life. Max it out."

  –E. McNew

  Long Blue Line is the coming of age of Elizabeth Jeter. It candidly reveals the provocative and secret world of planned teenage pregnancy and the brutal consequences that follow. The girl next door - popular and driven.

  Once upon a time a beautiful teenager looked forward to school letting out and the warm, carefree days to come. But in the summer of her fifteenth year, things would drastically change. After reading a romance book sensationalizing a young woman’s perfect life following the hookup with a wealthy prince charming, Elizabeth set out to create her own fairy tale ending. This would become the beginning of the darkest hours in her life: pregnancy, bridesmaids, drugs and jail.

  Long Blue Line is Elizabeth's captivating memoir about her descent into addiction. Her obsession with pregnancy, independence, and, ultimately drugs is chronicled in brutally honest Prose that will leave you spellbound. Her journey isn’t over - far from it. She still has nightmares, but today she is wiser and lives in reality.

  If you are this girl, you will take a deep breath and nod your head knowingly. If you knew this girl, you will rethink your assumptions. If this girl is your daughter, you will finally get an insider’s look at what she can’t put into words.

  Above all, you will be moved - moved to tears, to unity, to action. Elizabeth is one of the lucky ones. She survived. Sadly, many young women and their children are unable to escape the madness and become grave statistics. Not everyone gets a second chance, and she hopes to inspire others with her straightforward honesty.

  COPYRIGHT 2014 ©

  E. MCNEW

  First Printing

  September 30, 2014

  LONG BLUE LINE

  Based on a True Story

  Houston TX

  McNew Publishing

  Printed in the USA

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author/publisher.

  “I don’t know how you lived through that.”

  “If that happened to my family, I would go crazy.”

  “I can’t even imagine how hard it must be.”

  “How do you do it?”

  “I NEVER would have guessed!”

  These are just a few of the responses I have gotten after telling a trusted person my story. Over the years, those who did hear my entire story were people who I least expected to tell. I was blessed to cross paths with a few select people, and some even strangers, who offered a friendly presence, allowing me the courage to speak of what has hurt me the most. I like to think of these people as angels. I don’t know why we crossed paths, and I don’t know why they were meant to hear such a story from a total stranger, but they were there. They were there to help me release my mind from holding in so much pain. The times and places of these encounters were all unique, but my state of emotional instability was always the same.

  A few times I was drunk at a bar. One of those long, deeply emotional conversations on a bar stool, slamming down shots between tears. Another few were after becoming close friends with someone. It took me months to decide if the person could handle hearing my story. I had to decide if sharing the information would be more beneficial than risky. I didn’t understand why those kind words were being offered in response to such horrible mistakes I made, and the awful results of those mistakes. I never felt brave. I certainly never felt heroic. I felt grief. If I didn’t let this pain out every so often I would notice myself slipping into a path of self-destruction. My angels always seemed to come just in time. They saved me, and they helped me save myself.

  Contents

  Reviews

  Disclaimer

  Acknowledgements

  Dedication

  Introduction

  Preface

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Chapter 59

  Chapter 60

  Chapter 61

  Chapter 62

  Chapter 63

  Chapter 64

  Chapter 65

  Chapter 66

  Chapter 67

  Chapter 68

  Chapter 69

  Chapter 70

  Chapter 71

  Chapter 72

  Chapter 73

  Chapter 74

  Chapter 75

  Chapter 76

  Chapter 77

  Chapter 78

  Chapter 79

  Chapter 80

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Girls,

  I am so blessed to have had you for the short time that I did. Though it may one day become confusing and difficult to think of me as your mother, I’ll always hold the irreplaceable memories of your angelic beauty safely locked into my heart and forever hold your memory as my baby girls.

  If this book reaches you before I do, I pray that it can offer you truth and an understanding of my eternal love for you, which will be a part of who I am for every remaining breath I’ll ever take. The pain of your absence is one that never ends, but the beauty of your memory is one that will always shine strong.

  My wish for you is to live your life full, whole and happy. Always chase your dreams and never, ever let anything stand in your way. Remember to love and let your self be loved in return. I know that you’ll become the people that most are not - remembering to lend a helping hand and finding beauty in the small things in life. When you feel defeated, stand up strong and refuse to allow defeat to become an option. Remember always that you were created because God has great plans for your life, even if at times they feel out of reach and impossible to understand.

  I want you to know, whether you’re eighteen or fift
y-eight, my heart is yours, my home is yours, and my life is yours. I’m always going to be ready to be the best that I can be, whether it’s your friend, mentor, acquaintance or mom. I’ll give you everything that I’m capable of, still knowing that it cannot make up for what’s been lost. I thank you with the utmost sincerity for coming into my life and showing me what it means to hold and love a piece of God’s heaven.

  Love,

  Mom

  Reviews

  “I don't read non-fiction books. Now I know why. I become too involved…Real life is much sadder than made-up tales. When I reached the end of the book, I felt like crying. I also wanted to scream out, what will happen next?”

  -Susanne Leist, author of The Dead Game

  “Wow just wow!! I seriously could not stop reading…it had me smiling on minute and crying the next…and as a mother myself it also broke my heart…I would recommend this book to anyone, but particularly young girls! I gave this book 5 stars because the rating system doesn’t go any higher :)”

  -Ciara Perkins. U.S Army wife

  “The strength and courage it must have took to write this book is unimaginable! Elizabeth really moves you with her words and as soon as you read the introduction, it hooks you in! Absolutely the BEST book I've read in a while!! Look forward to reading more from Elizabeth!”

  -Ali, Amazon customer

  “Testing the waters is intoxicating :) I can't wait to read the more to come. I completely recommend the book.”

  -Amazon Verified Review

  Disclaimer

  This narrative is written to offer information and education to our readers. It is sold/uploaded with the understanding that the publisher and/or author is not engaged to render any type of psychological, legal, or any other kind of professional advice. This content is the sole expression and opinion of the author. Neither the publisher nor the individual author(s) shall be liable for any physical, psychological, emotional, financial, or commercial damages, including, but not limited to, special, incidental, consequential or other damages. Our views and rights are the same: You are responsible for your own choices, actions, and results.

  I would like to expressly convey to you (the reader) that if I were to accidentally defame, purge, humiliate and/or hurt someone's person or feelings as a result of reading and/or acting upon any or all of the information and/or advice found in my content, it is entirely unintentional of me to do so.

  Acknowledgements

  To my family, thank you for your love and support in spite of the controversial events in this story. To my wonderful husband, Steven, and my daughter, Savhanna, who have helped me along the way when it felt like it would never end - you are my motivation, my purpose in life, and the best two people any wife and mother could ask for. I love you both more than life. You have given me a new life. Thank you.

  To my readers, and the support from my hometown, South Lake Tahoe, CA, this story has allowed me to reconnect with so many lost friends and colleagues that I thought were gone from my life forever. I value your love and support more than I can explain in words, and it’s because of you that this story is here. Your support has played a huge role in turning a very distressing series of events into something that will serve a greater purpose for my children, humanity and for me.

  To my amazing Grandmother, thank you so much for sharing your amazingly articulate mind for the sake of this book. I love you more than I could ever say, and I am proud to have such a beautiful and loving Grandma in my life.

  Dedication

  To my Mom, who has helped me along this road in more ways than I had ever realized until writing this memoir, and I wish that I could have thanked you and shown my appreciation much sooner than today because you definitely deserved my gratitude a long time ago. I am sorry for putting you through so much pain and agonizing years of having to endure the unknown. You have suffered with me, and although this makes me sad, I now understand that I was never truly alone in this journey. I love you so incredibly much, and I am very grateful for your ability to calmly tolerate my frequent dramatic antics and still love me and understand me - all at the same time.

  I love you Mommy.

  I also want to dedicate this book to my Dad. Although we’ve had our times of conflict and haven’t always agreed on everything, you always loved me and wanted what was best. Writing this book helped me to realize this. I am sure that I was a tough teenager for a father to deal with, and I know that you did the best you could. As I have grown older and matured over the years and have had children of my own, I understand why you were upset on more than one occasion. It just meant that you cared. You just wanted me to be safe. Though I was the only person who could have saved myself, I thank you for trying to help me. Thanks for helping me get through some of my rough patches and stepping into my life when I was sad and alone.

  I love you Dad.

  Introduction

  If my life were to unexpectedly end today, there would be no means or way to convey to my precious daughters the permanent place that they have always held in my heart. The unanswered questions and unspoken truth will always remain, and my story will forever be swept under the rug.

  If you, the reader, are easily disturbed or become upset over violent acts towards children and/or women, I strongly urge you to not continue to read any further. These are real issues, which are incredibly disturbing, and as a result, society typically avoids talking or learning about them.

  Do not ever tell yourself “It’ll never happen to me.” This is the point when it can happen.

  Preface

  “Do you think anyone will notice?” I ask my twin sister, Merri. “Liz! You’re fine! Quit worrying about it and just be happy that we’re getting the hell out of here!” She enthusiastically replied. For as much as Merri and I had fought over the years, and even physically beat each other up as kids, we were still twins regardless, and the idea that we’d be walking down the aisle together on our high school graduation day wasn’t a surprising one.

  No one else would have wanted to walk with me anyway. I would have felt bad if one of the lonely, partner-less kids who paired up last minute to walk down the aisle got stuck with me. And if it were a guy, he would totally come off as my baby-daddy! What if he was a little scrawny guy half my size? I pondered. Luckily and not surprisingly, my twin and I managed to graduate a year early. It was just a few weeks before my due-date, and I was convinced that I was going to be that kid who passed out on the walk across the field. When we were ordered to stand in line and instructed to prove that we weren’t hiding a bottle of jack or a beach ball to disrupt the ceremony, my attempt to conceal my pregnancy with my extra-large gown failed miserably. Those gowns were awesome hiding places. The cat was out of the bag when I opened my gown, revealing my cute polka-dot maternity dress, and the only hidden item I was found guilty of was a baby. The other kids were sly enough to keep their blow-up-Betty dolls and bottles of booze under the radar.

  The band began playing that same-old graduation song - whatever it’s called. It was our signal to walk, and that’s all we knew. We started the walk up the small gravel hill which I had walked on many times over the last few years. We were walking away from the same hill that led to the Young Parents Program. This was the place that I was introduced to as my new school after finding out I was pregnant when I had just turned fifteen. Fat as a whale, at nine months pregnant with my baby, it wasn’t exactly a walk in the park trying to waddle my way up to the grass football field to receive my diploma, but I did it.

  College was next. I was so worried about everything on my first day of classes. I didn’t get to just pack up my bag and speed my way over to the college where my only worry would be of being pulled over by a highway patrol car. I had to wake up extra early to convince Chloe and Zoe to let me get them dressed for the day, brush the knots out of their tiny heads of hair, beg them to eat their breakfast in the least messy manner possible, and try to translate what they were bickering over - which was usually who got to us
e the Princess bowl for their cereal. What’s so wrong with the Minnie Mouse bowl, I would think. After the morning meltdowns had taken their course, it was time to grab my bag, with one kid in each arm, open the front door, somehow turn around to lock it, and stuff their stubborn little bodies into their car seats. I would have to distract them with anything and everything possible just to get them to sit still long enough to get them securely buckled in. At that point, I had sweat dripping from my forehead and wishing that I had brought an extra stick of deodorant to do something about my armpit dilemma. Oh, and this was all in the dead of winter with six feet of snow and all.

  It wasn’t easy to handle this five days a week at the age of 18 but nothing was going to stand in my way of getting an education. I would one day provide the best for these girls. They deserved the best, and I was determined to give that to them.

  Life can sure be one unpredictable roller coaster. If you had asked me then how I felt about drugs and people on welfare, I surely would have laughed as my snooty nose stuck straight up in the air. I would’ve said something along the lines of, “There is no excuse for being a total loser! We are all responsible for our own actions, and people like that just need to fall off the face of the planet.” True story.

  Have you ever made an attempt to explain a crappy situation or life event to someone, and instead of actually referring to the events for what they were, you simply called them things? My brain won’t allow me to go there, even when I try to go there. Things have a great way of keeping you from falling into that pit of being the person who was living with those…things. Things are the universal word that comes to our mercy when we just can’t spit it out. Whoever was awesome enough to come up with things (maybe a pilgrim or one of my great ancestors) forever have my grateful appreciation.