My father died January 15, 2001. I watched him take his last breath. I was only 17 yrs old. Within a yr my mother had moved out with a new boyfriend and left me behind. I was homeless.
I felt like I had nothing to live for, so I drank, smoked weed, and snorted cocaine as a way to dull out the pain I felt. I was reckless because I didn’t care, and I wanted to die. I just wanted to see my dad again. I hooked up with a guy, and I didn’t use protection because I didn’t care about HIV or AIDS. I wasn’t worried about getting pregnant either because I had been told by 4 different doctors that I couldn’t have kids.
Well, 5 weeks later I found out I was pregnant…..I immediately stopped drinking and using drugs because I didn’t want to have a drug addicted baby. I didn’t have any insurance or money to go to a rehab facility, so I detoxed at home by myself.
I was trying hard to make a new life for myself. I had a job and was working on getting a place for myself and my baby, but his father was mad that I was leaving my old life behind. He harassed me and even beat me up and that’s when I went into labor.
My son was born October 28, 2004. He was 16 weeks premature. He weighed 1lb 7oz and was 12 1/4 inches long. After 3 months in the hospital and 2 surgeries later, he was able to come home. I asked the Dr if my drug use in the first 5 weeks of pregnancy had anything to do with his premature birth. Thankfully they said no! I was too ashamed to admit that his father had abused me.
After my son came home, I tried to give his dad a chance, but he didn’t want to leave the life he was living. So, I left him for good along with any ties to my old life.
I put myself through college, met a great guy, had a baby girl with my boyfriend, and never looked back.
My son gave me a reason and the strength to live again. The life I had before him wasn’t living. I was just existing. My advise to all of you is…..find that thing to live for and then start living.