I’ve started writing a few different posts and then never finish them. I don’t feel like any of them have been the correct thing to write about. I’m really not sure where to go from here. So many things have happened in my life to lead me right to where I am. I keep feeling like I have to go in order, but then I wonder if that’s just a remnant of the OCD kicking in. MUST GO 1, 2, 3…
Here is something I know I need to talk about, my son Abram.
In 1987, I found out I was pregnant for the very first time. I was a senior in high school and no clue what I was going to do. I had broken up with the baby’s father, Devon, a month prior. I had been cruel in the way I handled the break-up and I was afraid that if I told him I was pregnant he was going to think I had made it up to get back together with him. 30 years later I look at back at the situation and am so sad at how it played out. I have had to forgive myself because asking Devon for forgiveness at this point in life would not be ok. Old wounds, you know. I lost the baby about 14-16 weeks into the pregnancy. I don’t know for sure because I never went to the doctor to get checked for an official pregnancy until it was at the end. The loss was horrendous both physically and emotionally. All I ever wanted in my life was to be a mother. I wanted one person in this life to love me unconditionally for exactly who I was. I wanted the opportunity to be different to my child than my parents were to me.
In writing this down, it makes it even more real. I’ve carried this story in my heart for 30 years. Abram would have been 30 this fall. In 1999 the only other person who I told about the loss of Abram came to visit me. She was my best friend in high school and her name is Delilah. Delilah and I got matching tattoos which represented all of my children as of that point in life. My children are my sunshine by day and my stars by night and when I am lost, they lead the way. The tattoo is of a sun and 4 stars. Each child has their own color and meaning behind the tattoo. Abram is my yellow star. I chose yellow because he shines bright up in the heavens. Losing that pregnancy hurt me so deeply. I thought it was my penance for the way I had treated the males I came across in my path.
In 1989, I found out I was pregnant again. I was shocked. I had been on the pill and didn’t even know I was pregnant until about 8 weeks in. I had kept taking the birth control pills and I was doing drugs. I was addicted to cocaine. It was the only thing I could do to control the shit flowing through my brain. When I couldn’t sleep at night, I’d smoke pot to calm my nerves. I didn’t really like doing illegal drugs because I do not like to break the rules (OCD again). However, the constant noise in my head was more than I could handle. I was having conversations with myself and the memories were awful. Memories of the sexual abuse, memories of losing a baby, memories of a childhood gone awry. I just wanted it all to stop. When I did cocaine, my brain was set straight. I could actually function and perform. The voices were gone and I felt more normal. Back in 1989, those pregnancy tests were supposed to take 15 minutes to turn blue. I went and stood in the living room while my girlfriend stayed in the kitchen with the glass of pee and the stick with three little balls on it. I remember hearing her laughing about 3 minutes and saying really loud “BITCH YOU ARE REALLY, REALLY PREGNANT. LOOK AT THIS!” Um what? It was too soon for it to turn! I thought she was joking so I went running in and telling her to stop with the joking, it wasn’t funny. My gut dropped. Apparently not… All I could think about was what I had been doing with my body. I immediately went cold turkey on everything. Not enjoyable, but it was what had to be done.
To this day, I tell my daughter and I mean it with every fiber of my being that getting pregnant with her truly saved my life. I was going down a path that was not safe for me and certainly not safe for a baby. God had given me the one thing I truly wanted which was one tiny human to love me no matter how screwed up I was. I was going to do this right. When I decided to keep the pregnancy, I made a solemn vow to God that if he let my child be physically and mentally normal, I would never, ever touch an illegal drug ever again.
I am proud to say, I have been clean for 27 years and 4 months. It has NOT always been easy. However, for me, wanting my child to live a decent life was more powerful to me than the pull to the drug.
I guess I finally figured out what to write.
Peace be with you.