...I was in labor. I Was 18, and sort of with a boy who did not want this kicking baby inside me. I lived in a little run down duplex with a shade tree in the front dirt yard. I had been homeless during most of my pregnancy. A pregnancy plauged by a small placental abruption @ 13weeks sending me to bedrest on a friend's floor for over 2 months...of times spent in food bank lines and lying to my father for money...of calling adoption agencies and questioning what I should do. Found that old little duplex on Oct 5, signed the leaase Oct 7th and moved in and 10 days later gave birth to my son.
He was early, and small and beautiful. Nearly never cried.I knew no one, was alone just days after having him. Taking city buses with a preemie to apply for food stamps. Being spit on (literally) by rich women in stores because I was "one of those teen moms".Being told how worthless and selfish I was for keeping my son to raise. I would never be anything worthwhile. Only my dear, sweet grandmum told me how well I was doing, how prefect my boy was and how I would raise him wonderfully.
There were all those years , just he and I. Stuggling, walking to the store and carting all the groceries back in backpacks on buses in the rain, the snow and the hot sun. So many trips to hospital I stopped counting as his little lungs struggled to overcome their early entrance to the world. Holding his hand and watching his blue lips as I willed the bus to get through each light a little faster to make it to the ER. Never enough food for me..I weighed 97lbs for years and years..not for vanity..for nessecity. There was just enough money for one to eat, to have clothes and books and those precious legos every year under the Christmas tree that was always brought home on the that hateful city bus...under the glare of all the passengers as the smell of evergreen filled our noses and my boy and I sang carols until our stop under the streetlight in front of our walk up apartment. Snuggling together with a nebulizer between us in... late at night listening to the traffic and whispering fairy tales until his breathing slowed and steadied.
I asked my boy what he remembers of all our years...not how tiny our little apartment was, not the struggles or the late night bus rides that I fretted over. He remembers how fun it was to live over a cafe with cinnamon rolls so that our bedroom smelled so good saturday mornings..not the fear and worry of the phone being turned off..but the fun we had playing cars and building legos..not the lack of any family but us..but walks to the park.
Tomorrow my dear son will be a man..from that scared moment I gave birth to him to this night here in our own home, with his dad who's name he now carries (he adopted him) to his two little brothers who think the sun rises with his silliness and love to hear him play guitar(which he is now in the other room) ...here we are.
I did it.
We made it.
all the worry, all the tears..all the doubt..
He is whole, and happy and heading to college next fall. He is handsome and loving...he brings joy to so many.
I am blessed beyond measure.
My boy will be 18 @ 8:27 tomorrow morning.
every moment worth it..every single one.
He was early, and small and beautiful. Nearly never cried.I knew no one, was alone just days after having him. Taking city buses with a preemie to apply for food stamps. Being spit on (literally) by rich women in stores because I was "one of those teen moms".Being told how worthless and selfish I was for keeping my son to raise. I would never be anything worthwhile. Only my dear, sweet grandmum told me how well I was doing, how prefect my boy was and how I would raise him wonderfully.
There were all those years , just he and I. Stuggling, walking to the store and carting all the groceries back in backpacks on buses in the rain, the snow and the hot sun. So many trips to hospital I stopped counting as his little lungs struggled to overcome their early entrance to the world. Holding his hand and watching his blue lips as I willed the bus to get through each light a little faster to make it to the ER. Never enough food for me..I weighed 97lbs for years and years..not for vanity..for nessecity. There was just enough money for one to eat, to have clothes and books and those precious legos every year under the Christmas tree that was always brought home on the that hateful city bus...under the glare of all the passengers as the smell of evergreen filled our noses and my boy and I sang carols until our stop under the streetlight in front of our walk up apartment. Snuggling together with a nebulizer between us in... late at night listening to the traffic and whispering fairy tales until his breathing slowed and steadied.
I asked my boy what he remembers of all our years...not how tiny our little apartment was, not the struggles or the late night bus rides that I fretted over. He remembers how fun it was to live over a cafe with cinnamon rolls so that our bedroom smelled so good saturday mornings..not the fear and worry of the phone being turned off..but the fun we had playing cars and building legos..not the lack of any family but us..but walks to the park.
Tomorrow my dear son will be a man..from that scared moment I gave birth to him to this night here in our own home, with his dad who's name he now carries (he adopted him) to his two little brothers who think the sun rises with his silliness and love to hear him play guitar(which he is now in the other room) ...here we are.
I did it.
We made it.
all the worry, all the tears..all the doubt..
He is whole, and happy and heading to college next fall. He is handsome and loving...he brings joy to so many.
I am blessed beyond measure.
My boy will be 18 @ 8:27 tomorrow morning.
every moment worth it..every single one.
heartwrenchingly lovely. Thank you for sharing that.
Happy Birthday to your son and to you.
Happy birthday to your son!
that was amazing. your ds is so lucky to have been born to such a wonderful momma. i hope i can do such wonderful things for my lo, congrats on your boys birthday. 
