Tag Archives: love

A Whole Year Old


Oh baby, baby
My beautiful child
My little toddler!
Who is no longer a baby!

Today, you are a year old. Exactly one year ago today at 5:15PM you were born. At roughly 7PM I threw up in recovery and immediately began asking my nurse over and over where you were and when I would get to see you and hold you. I held you in my arms for the first time one year ago. You were tiny enough, I could cradle you in one arm and you fed from my body for the first time, this day one year ago.

Today, you are walking, running even! You speak in your own little toddler language (that I somehow understand even though none of it are real words, in fact they’re mostly grunts), you sleep by yourself in your own room and can even put yourself to sleep. I’m just lucky you still need your boo-boo’s kissed.

Where has the time gone? I miss your little-ness. But at the same time I am loving this chance to watch you grow. I have been told time and time again how bitter sweet this moment would be, and how quickly it would come, but you never really know until it arrives. And they weren’t kidding. This moment is the epitome of bitter sweet.

I hardly know what to say in this letter without it starting the water works.

I want you to know, first and foremost, how much I love you. It is more than universe itself. Nothing can compare to the love I hold for you. I will always do everything within my power to make sure I am always there for you. ALWAYS! However, there may be moments when I can’t. Remember, it is just you and me against the world, so I may not be able to make it to EVERYTHING but I will try my hardest. Know this, if I cannot be there, it hurts me more than you’ll ever imagine.

I held you in my body for 9 months. But I hold you in my heart for all of eternity. Even when I seem like such a mean mommy, I do it out of love. I have to do it otherwise it may hurt you, it may lead you down a misleading path, or it just may not be healthy. I will do whatever I need to do, as long as it means you are safe, secure, and (maybe not right that second but will eventually lead to you being) happy. In that order. You will hate at times, and during those times it will kill me, but you’ll be safe and sound, just as you should be.

I want to be your friend but first, above everything and anything else, I must be your parent.

I hope and pray that you continue your journey through life being the fighter you are. Be happy and outgoing and everything good that you are and more.

Happy first birthday, sweetie. I love you!



9 Month Open Letter


Baby boy,

It just as I was saying not that long ago; in the blink of an eye you would be 9 months old and sure enough, I blinked.

You amaze me and you are so much more than I could have ever hoped or imagined. You say “momma”, now, and “Ada” and “Nona.” You are learning “no” but more than saying it you enjoy shaking your head “no.” I think it’s more of a game for you than actually saying no to something. You’re starting to cover your ears when…I don’t know actually. You just like covering your ears. I think it’s because you see your cousin O do it and you think it’s cool or something. Not that you actually know what cool is.

Although you are so young I can already see things in you that resemble your father. You love the drums. While most babies tap on things anyways, you have rhythm. And the music app on my tablet is always switched to the drums, by you. I think I may have to rethink piano lessons and get you drums instead. Your father used to play drums and before you were born he already had it set in his mind that you would play as well. He wasn’t bad at it either if my memory serves me correctly.

You also have a few facial expressions that resemble his. It’s usually when you’re caught doing something you shouldn’t be doing.

There is one thing I had wished you didn’t get from your father and myself and that is our temper. Ooh boy, do you have one and you are not afraid to express it. Hopefully, over the next few years I can help you learn enough self-control and self-respect to be able to curb that behavior and learn when it is appropriate to display it and when it is not.

If there is anything I want to teach you, it is that kindness and goodness will get you much further in this life than a bad attitude will. There is a saying, “nice guys always finish last.” I don’t buy that for one minute and I don’t want you to either. Nice guys (and gals) just have higher standards. You can’t grab the first thing handed to you if it isn’t up to par. Be grateful though, that is most important. Gratitude. Always be thankful for what you have and what is given! If you feel like your goodness is taken advantage of (which you will at times) just remember that God sees your effort and sees your heart and good things will happen. Everything always comes back in full circle.

As you already know, you have an older brother. He is ALMOST exactly one year older than you. If you were born 19 days later yall would be one year apart. If you had your way you probably would have stayed those extra days but your mommy was not having it. Your aunt said, the day before you were born, that I may have met my match. But I disgress, you will get the chance to meet your brother. We have been invited to his birthday. I am so excited for you and for him. I want you to know him and to know you are related by one of the closest bonds you can be given. Cherish your siblings and love them. No matter what, you’re family. Don’t ever forget that!

I have recently been made aware that in roughly 8 months time you will be an older brother, yourself. Not by me! Oh my goodness no! I am not ready for that adventure again just yet. But by your father. Learn from him, my son, and know that having children is the greatest gift from God. As I stated earlier, be grateful for it when that gift is bestowed upon you and step up to your responsibilities and hold yourself accountable.

I have not yet spoken to this young lady who is carrying your baby brother or sister. I do not know if she and your father are still together, if he is involved with her pregnancy or how long he will stick around for this child. But I need you to do something for me. No matter what road your father chooses, you cannot hold resentment towards your siblings. You cannot be jealous of them. It may be difficult to do that, but you must try. It is not your sibling’s fault for your father’s actions and behavior so do not blame them. Be there for them, both of them, and know that you are loved so much. Just as they are. Do not be mad at your father either, instead we should pity him. Look at how much he missed out. Don’t say that out of anger but out of sadness for him. He is still just a lost boy trying to find himself. Love your father for helping me create you. Without him you wouldn’t be here. And always know, if there is one thing I am certain of, it is that he carries love for you. I remember the look on his face when he found out I was pregnant, when he found out you were a boy, and when he held you for the first time. That look was love. I am just sorry that he doesn’t know how to express it to you.

You are strong. You are amazing. You are the best. Remember to turn to God in times of need and any other time. You always have me. I am right here, I am not going anywhere. I promise you that. And let us pray for your father that he finds his way.

And one last thing, know that life is full of enough hurt so because of that we should not carry it with us or else we forget to cherish the good.

I love you more than life itself,



So full of love

To My Beautiful Son



You seem to be growing at an alarmingly fast rate. I’m not quite sure how I’ve managed to keep up with you but so far I have.

You are not quite 9 months old yet but in the blink of an eye, you will be. And when I blink again you’ll be 9 years old. I spend a lot of my free time wondering what our future might hold, what sort of boy and eventually man you grow to be. I also have spent some time concerned that I may not be enough for you.

I know you may not know anything different from the life you know but I worry you’ll feel like something is missing from your life once you realize that your father isn’t involved in the way that he should be. But that is why I feel so strongly about our religion. God has always been there for me and everyone else I know in ways that simple humans cannot be. Mostly, though, I want you to know that you are not fatherless. You have the greatest father of all. God.

I wish I could say our life will be prefectly filled with blue skies and rainbows but it won’t be. That’s just life. We’ll have the occasional rainy day and maybe even some thunderstorms. But one thing that will never fade and never leave you is the love and guidance of our heavenly father.

There is so much that excites me but also scares me so much about our upcoming journey. But I know with faith we’ll come out of it ok. I don’t want you to ever fear as I do or to worry as I do. I want your relationship with God to be so much stronger than my own. Keep your faith in him and if you ever find yourself alone know that you aren’t. I’ll always be in your heart right next to God’s love.

I love you with my everything

8 Month Open Letter


Dear Bunky,

I had a beautifully written letter for your 8 month birthday…then I forgot to save it. Go mommy and her easily erasable mind. That has been your cousin’s and my favorite topic of discussion lately. How children so easily make us forget. After I had you and spent many sleepless nights trying to get you to sleep, I forgot that I vowed to never have kids again. I also forgot the many times I made the same vow WHILE I was still pregnant with you and always so uncomfortable. But, over time, you have shown me that, even through all the scary, the sad, the confusing, the lack of sleep, this is still the most amazing thing anyone could ever do with their life. And if God were to one day bless me with another child, I would be ecstatic.

But on the other hand, I wonder, if I were to have more kids, how on earth would they ever measure up to you? You are so well behaved and the happiest baby I have ever seen. When we go out, you are so content and allow mommy to do whatever she needs. Also, considering the fact that you have been in discomfort for the last three months from ear infections, you are still incredibly happy and playful as ever. Not to mention, your first SIX teeth have all popped in within a month and a half of each other.

You are a, “go big or go home!” kinda baby. You are more than I could have ever hoped for. You are my love, my heart, my everything. Even though you weren’t planned, you are still the best thing to have ever happened to me.

I love you is an understatement.


*suppose to be a video here of these two boys dancing in the crib but again, technical difficulties with uploading a video.

The Good Samaritan Times Two

The Good Samaritan Times Two

People continue to amaze me with their kindness every day. Just when you begin to lose faith in humanity and their ability to show compassion there is one out of the bunch that makes their presence known to rekindle the faith.

In the last month I have been blessed to have TWO kind strangers who have shown me that all is not lost. I firmly believe this is a sign from god. That even in the middle of some nonsense that has appeared throughout my life, it is not yet time to give up on the human population.

The first act of kindness happened on April 14 as I was leaving the grocery store. I was loading my groceries in my car when a man approached me. Now, I don’t know what it is about me lately that has suddenly made me so approachable. Before I had my son and throughout my pregnancy I was best described as the girl who had “f%@! off” stamped across her head and I did not strike up conversations with random strangers. But this man was undeterred by whatever demeanor I may have been giving off, whether intentional or otherwise. He was well dressed and shined a friendly smile and said, “Hey, how’s it going,” as though I was an old friend. I gave pause as I considered if he might be someone I once knew. As I filtered faces in my memory bank he handed me a slip of folded paper that read “God bless you.” He flashed one more smile and went on his way. I shoved the paper in my pocket as I continued loading my car. When I slid into the driver’s seat of my car I remembered the note he passed me and pulled it out of my pocket. I briefly considered throwing the paper away as a number of thoughts raced through my head. I thought at first that maybe this was some sort of angry letter at how I was dressed. It wasn’t particularly provocative, I was still somewhat dressed in my chefs uniform minus the jacket. Instead I was wearing the undershirt, a nursing tank top that showed off a good bit of cleavage, that I normally don’t wear in public. Then I thought maybe it was a letter trying to convince me to convert faiths or push me to join a church. Then the irrational kicked in, it was full of anthrax and this man’s true intention was to kill me. (My imagination is too much for me to handle sometimes.) But something told me not to throw this away so I carefully unfolded the letter and was surprised at what I found inside.


I was overwhelmed with his random kindness towards a person he’d never seen before in his life. I couldn’t help but cry for his good deed and my misgiving thoughts.

Later, on April 30, I went to a local thrift store to spend a little of my birthday money on clothes I desperately needed. (I don’t quite fit in my pre pregnancy clothes yet and still wear my maternity clothes which are now too big.) While I was there I also picked up shorts for my son which he also badly needed. I passed the toys and couldn’t resist finding something for DC, thinking I should go ahead and start stocking up on Christmas and birthday gifts for him.


I was standing in line with one gentleman in front of me who looked particularly scraggly and slightly hard up on life himself. He saw the toys and baby clothes in my bunch of purchases and told the cashier, “Give this young lady my change to go towards her the baby toys.” It was only $0.23 USD but he could have easily kept his change and put it towards his own needs. Again I was touched by this generosity and selfless gesture and was at a loss for words.

In life, it’s easy to only see the bad that goes on in the world around us and it doesn’t help that many times that’s the only thing the news will report on, only adding to our already negative thinking of the direction society today is headed. But there are still angels that walk among us. We just need to open our eyes and our hearts to see them and accept their goodness and trust that there isn’t always an ulterior motive to their actions.

There are still good people with good intentions and good hearts.

“Treat others the way you wish to be treated.”

God bless.

You are Loved!


Another day of school….another day of distractions from class. He brings it on himself though. He drones on about one thing for ages. Which bores me. And whomever coined the phrase, “there’s no such thing as a dumb question” never got asked a question. There ARE dumb questions, like the question that just got answered before it was asked.

I don’t really have a point to this post beyond wasting your time. I enjoy doing that. Driving you crazy and slowly eat away precious seconds of your life.

I hope life is treating all of my readers well. If it’s not, take it into your own hands and make it well. Life only remains as bad as one allows it to be. Time to make lemonade. That’s not to down play the bad that happens. It’s inevitable, stuff happens. The trick is to not dwell. Move on. Finding motivation can be difficult and if you are having trouble finding motivation then find it here: you are strong, you are enough, you are amazing, you are loved. Hold your head up high and the rest will follow. You want to do that thing you’ve always wanted to do? I support you! Wholeheartedly! YOU CAN DO IT! (Except murdering people. That’s bad. But if that’s what you choose please don’t murder me. I believe in you, remember. Don’t bite the hand that feeds you.)

Life isn’t treating me like gold but I’m treating it as such and I’ve never been happier. I woke up today, my son woke up today, he’s healthy, we have food in our belly, clothes on our back, a roof over our heads, and smiles on our faces. Life is life. And I couldn’t ask for more. Well, maybe a father for my son but all in due time.

Three Month Open Letter

Three Month Open Letter

My precious genius! You’re three months old already. How could this be? You are growing and learning so much, so quickly. I can officially say that your smiles are no longer caused by gas but by your genuine delight and glee. You are also laughing now, as well. And although by the time you read this you may not think so, right now, you think I am the funniest person on the planet.

Another fact you may deny once you’re older is, at this young age you already feel separation anxiety when you’re away from me. It annoys me when I want to get chores done and want you to sit in your swing or jumper but it also fills my heart with a love you’ll never know until you have kids of your own. Because I know that there is no one else who can console you like I can and there, in fact, isn’t a love like any other than your mothers. And you show me that every day in everything you do.

You’re trying to be a great sleeper for mommy. So far this week you’ve had two nights you slept 8 straight hours! But mommy had to ruin that good run with your very first road trip to see Aunty Tequila. You did great on your first trip considering you grew out of nearly all your clothes and look like you’re dealing with mouth pain.

You also grabbed the bottle on your own. You aren’t fed from the bottle very often but your aunt wanted to bond with you so I caved. I learned so much from you on this short trip.

But most of all, I learned exactly how much like me you really are. You are a full out mini me. And you are already so independent. You want, so bad, to be able to do your own thing and to move around on your own. Keep that up, kid. That attitude will get you far in life.

I love you so much!

Happy 1 Week, DC


My little Piglet,

I can’t believe you are already a whole week old. And my clumsy self hasn’t dropped you once!

I still remember my stay in the hospital rather clearly, considering all the medication that had been fed to me through IVs. Don’t worry yourself, being hooked up to those and monitors are standard. If I might add, also rather comforting. Except the monitor that simply sat on my belly. Although it did allowed me to listen to your heartbeat nonstop for three days, it constantly moved so the nurses were continually in and out of my room adjusting the sensors. Then to add to it, you were always a squirmy one, just like momma. We did a bang up job of thoroughly annoying our nurses, kiddo. Kudos!

You already started to take after me; clearly showing off your stubbornness by refusing to get out into the world to live on your own. I arrived at the hospital on a Friday. The doctor decided to induce my labor due to high blood pressure. (You were due to arrive the following Monday.) Even with medical aide to encourage your arrival, I was still in labor for 46 hours. I had to go 46 plus hours of nothing to eat or drink aside from ice chips. I did that for YOU, Piglet (and was semi-forced by nurses and doctors…okay, okay, entirely forced.)

Saturday, things began to get a little more interesting. The nurses increased my intake of pitocin, the medicine used to try to force you out and into my arms. It wasn’t long before your heart rate began to drop though. Nurses and an anesthesiologist came rushing into the room; one nurse was directing me to lay on this side, then that, then position myself on all fours, “he may just be pressing his face into a position that is restricting his breathing so we have to try to get him to move,” while the other nurse shut off the pitocin and prepared an oxygen mask that appeared to eat my face. Meanwhile, the anesthesiologist explained different anesthesias to me and their risks and benefits, “sign here, here, and here. Initial there and there.” Then your heart rate started to come back up, you were safe and we were cleared to continue with the induction. As the day wore on, the amount of medicine administered was increased. Before long I was having full blown contractions but you were no closer to coming out. Mommy was frustrated and in an insurmountable amount of pain, to say the least. The nurses offered me medicine to ease the pain but I was afraid to take it. Until the early morning hours that seeped into Sunday, I called in the nurse and asked what risks were involved and how it would impact you, if at all. Completely safe, any risks involved would effect me and simply make you sleepy. I was finally able to sleep, very briefly but sleep nonetheless.

Sunday is the biggest blur to me but I still remember the important stuff. I remember that I cried to your Nona and Ada about the pain I was in. I believe I was adamant about adopting in the future rather than go through labor ever again in my life.

I continually reminded the nurses to begin administering the epidural the second I had the green light to take it, don’t ask just give it to me.

“As soon as it is okay for me to take the epidural, go right ahead.”
“Sweety, it’s too soon to administer the epidural.”
“I KNOW THAT! I’m giving you my consent now to give it to me when I am allowed to take it. Don’t ask, just do it.”

The contractions continued to get stronger, finally when I was nearly blinded with pain, they told me they were going to begin preparing me for the epidural and increasing the induction medication. After I had been given the anesthesia, the nurses began adjusting me to lay on my left, a few minutes later, lay on my right. Before I knew it, I was back in the oxygen mask with the pitocin shut off. The doctor then came in and said, “It’s been nearly 48 hours since you started getting the pitocin and it appears that the baby isn’t responding well to it. Anytime we increase it, his heart rate drops. It’s safe to say that it is a failed induction and that we will need to proceed with a c-section. Let’s start preparing you.”

The only thing that broke my heart about going along with that procedure was that I would not be permitted to hold you immediately after birth. “Stay strong,” your Ada said. Nona began changing into scrubs provided by the nurses. I insisted that she stay by my side every step of the way and I’m thoroughly glad I did. I don’t know what I would have done without her.

I was wheeled into the OR and given more anesthesia. Once the doctors were satisfied with the effects of the medicines they proceeded with the surgery. At most I would feel the occasional poke, pull, and tug here and there but mostly, my arms would not stop shivering. I’d never felt so cold in my life but only in my head and arms, nowhere else, granted everything else was numb. The nurse wrapped a warm blanket around my head and placed two warm blankets across my chest to cover my arms.

Before I knew what happened I could hear your cry, to this day, tears fill my eyes just thinking about it. You had the most beautiful cry I had ever heard, in fact, it was altogether the most beautiful sound in the world. Then your Nona stood up to look over the curtain that blocked our view from the operation, to get a look at you and she said, “He’s perfect in every way! All ten fingers and toes.” They allowed her to cut the umbilical cord and after they cleaned you up they handed you to her. She was the first one to hold you. She brought you around the curtain so I could see you and I continued to cry. I just wanted to hold you and never let go. Then the nurses took you away to the nursery, where it would be another two hours before I would see you again.

After they insisted I stop crying to staple me closed they carted me off to Recovery. While Nona, Ada, Mimi, and your father visited you in the nursery I was being pumped with yet more medicine, while the anesthesia wore off, that briefly made me sick. Once I was stable, they finally brought you in to see me after I asked over and over when you would be brought to me (annoying yet more nurses. We were good at that. REALLY good.) Even though I was good at annoying the nurse, she was still the nicest one we had come across. Not only did she allow me to have more than one visitor at a time (Nona, Ada, Mimi, your father, Mema, Papa, and our cousin) she broke another rule. Instead of only leaving you with me for thirty minutes, she allowed us to have about an hour, if not longer, with each other.

We were finally taken to the Maternity Ward, where we would spend the remaining three nights in the hospital. Because of the serious medication I was under everyone expected I would sleep heavily through the night. That did not happen, not even close to it. I would doze off occasionally for about twenty minutes at a time, the rest of the night I would spend staring at you stroking your cheek. I did not want you out of my sight again. After carrying you for 9 long months, any second spent away from you felt like eons.

I thought I loved you while I carried you, it was nothing compared to the love I felt when we finally met. I cannot say where my life would be at right now without you and I don’t care to ever know. You are my everything and I can’t wait to see where our life will continue to take us.

I love you more than the universe’s vastness,

We Are All Underway!


An update on Mr. Love, he and I spoke a couple of weeks ago about us and where we stand, he confirms that we do have a chance at working things out, however, it is a very long, hard road ahead of us to get there. I will tell you all what I told him, “I will fight for however long I need to, even if that means forever.” He is my heart. He used to be my whole heart but that was before Baby DC came along, so naturally he is considerably less but still my heart nonetheless.

Mr. Love has gone underway again meaning we are ALL now underway. While he is at sea, my baby will be born. It is so hard to believe that he is only four weeks from his due date. That is, if my doctor doesn’t determine him to be too heavy and decides to induce me. I can’t comprehend any of this. He is kicking me right now like crazy! Just think, anytime in the next 28 days he will be in my arms kicking me!

What will he look like? Who will he take after? Whose personality will he favor as he grows? Will he know how much I love him and everything I have done for him at this point? What does our future hold?

Mr. Love has not seen me since Christmas of 2012. The next time I see him, Christmas of 2013, I will be a mommy. Me! I can’t believe it!


We all have a lot in store this month.

A Delusionary Love Story: The Conclusion


Part 1

Part 2

People often feel as though certain events are their fault or were avoidable. It can be easy to go back and think, “If only…”

If only I had listened to that little voice inside my head.
If only I had paid attention to that gut retching feeling.
If only I hadn’t answered my phone.
If only I hadn’t gotten in that car.
If only I had listened to everyone’s characterization of him.

You’ll kill yourself with the “if only’s.” And if that doesn’t drive you straight to death it will easily drive you mad, at the very least. Find help and support, that is the only way.

The next morning I woke up, not at home like I had intended and wholeheartedly planned. No, I woke up next to this “friend,” puke beside this bed and a migraine from hell. I was so confused.

“Why am I hungover? I didn’t get drunk. Why the hell is the sun out? What happened to that time? Just a second ago it was 3am. What time is it now? SEVEN A.M.!? What the hell? Where am I and why isn’t this MY room?”

This was just a few of the thoughts that ran through my head as I was being shaken awake and led to a car and driven home, he never said a word. It was then I realized, he never got another bottle. He never had any intention of grabbing another bottle or taking me home that night. And worst of all, he won.

He pulled in the drive way of my house and my parents had both already left for work. I was scared, worried, and hurt. Usually when I leave without telling them, especially in the middle of the night and they see I’m not home the next morning (which was every other time I had slept at a friends house without giving them a heads up), they blow up my phone with text messages, phone calls, and voicemails until they reach me. But I hadn’t even gotten so much as a “have a good day, sweetie” from my dad. Something was wrong with everything, but good god, my head had never been foggier in my life. I needed more sleep. So I dragged myself inside and collapsed on my bed without bothering to change my clothes and slept into the afternoon.

Seven hours later, I woke up. Still with a headache but no migraine. I had more of myself. I got up to go freshen myself up, “maybe it’ll help me feel better,” I thought.

I don’t know if guys get this feeling the day after they’ve had sex, where even if they didn’t remember it they know something happened, but ladies do. Something is just different about your body. Especially when you haven’t been active. After all, Mr. Love and I were trying to work things out; even if we weren’t “official” it would just be rude to be with someone else while he’s fighting for my freedom during our reconciliation. (My family is greatly influenced by the military and has a vast military background, I got respect.)

So as I made my way to my bathroom; again I had this feel that something just WASN’T right. My body felt…used. Then I noticed the shorts I was wearing under my long pants were ripped. “What happened? When I last used the bathroom at ‘friend’s’ house they were in perfect condition.” I stood there in utter bewilderment as I watched the buttons that fastened the shorts fall to the floor. All were there but one, that one is still missing to this day.

I never cried so hard in my life. I felt broken. No, more than broken. I felt trashed and filthy. I felt such a confusion I never faced before. My head was swimming again. There was no way he could have done what I thought he did. He couldn’t. He was my best friend. He would never. I trusted him.


I, then, did a series of things that are not advised. I took the hottest shower in my life and scrubbed my skin raw (not ideal for rape kits to be properly performed). Afterwards, I went to my other best friend’s house. I cried in her living room as I explained the events I could recall. I know that although it was my responsibility to take the proper measures to protect myself and take myself to the hospital, I was just too scared. I thought, like many victims, that it was my fault. That I brought it on myself. But Mrs. Friend didn’t help to convince me otherwise. A month to the day later, we had an explosive argument that would have gotten physical had it not been for two guys grabbing us both and separating us. My therapist helped me later by looking into that situation.

“If a friend had come to you in the state you had gone to her, what would you have done? I believe your outburst was repressed anger towards her for not doing what a friend should have done.” She stated.

Mrs. Friend’s solution to the issue at hand was not to talk me through my pain and help me find help but to hand me a cigarette, a valium, and a joint. That day I couldn’t bring myself to show my face at school. Plus, I didn’t trust myself to handle a knife in a kitchen with gas stoves while I was high as kite so instead I went to a party. Where my life began to find comfort in weed, pills, and alcohol.

Two weeks later, after I had been avoiding Mr. Love’s calls on Skype, I finally confessed to him what happened. Accompanied by my confession, I told him I wanted nothing to do with him. That I wanted him out of my life for good. I wouldn’t say why, just that I didn’t “feel single.” I will regret this day and these words more than anything else that happened. He was the only one that believed me and still believes me. To this day it kills me that I could have done this. Even if we are talking now, because I shattered his heart and now I fight for a love I am not sure I can ever get back.

A couple of weeks after shutting Mr. Love out of my life I continued to spiral. I made poor decisions, one of them being sleeping with a guy I had been partying with, Mr. Flip-Flop. I don’t recall any real desire to be with him. Or anyone else for that matter. But I thought I could gain a piece of myself back. I believed doing this on my terms, I could take back what was stolen from me.

The only thing I gained was pregnancy.

Although, now I can say, it was this baby that saved my life. If it weren’t for him I would have never gone out to seek professional help, I did this for him. I never would have quit smoking or popping pills and probably would have continued to drive drunk with all hopes and intentions that a tree would jump in front of my car. Even though at the time, pregnancy was the very last thing I wanted I wouldn’t change it. He is my everything and without him I probably wouldn’t be sitting here writing this.

This is my conclusion to a story that started with an entirely different intention. But I’m glad I got this out. It hurts to think about it again, yes. But I pray it can help one of you out there that might stumble upon this. Do what I was too afraid to do. Be stronger than I was. And don’t let it ruin the love of your life, instead let that love help you. Don’t shut him out.