Goodbye 2015

This year, one thing became very clear to me: family is the only thing that matters. You will make it through anything as long as you stick together. You will get through those tough times, those struggles, as long as you remember that you aren't in it alone. This year, a lot of things taught me this lesson.

We started the year living in my father's basement, as things with Zack's mom went completely south. Zack and I were making bad choices, always partying, and not putting enough time and effort into Jadon. We were, honestly, falling apart. Looking back, I'm not sure how we stuck together through this time. I honestly don't think we really chose to; I think it was probably just easier to stay than it was to go. 

In mid-January, we got a call letting us know that Zackary's biological grandfather had passed away. This tore Zackary apart because he felt guilty for not spending enough time with him. That same week, a man who was like my brother, Phil, passed away from cardiac arrest. It broke my heart, but his spirt has guided me through all the rest. At his service, I know he was there, and he made something change in Zackary's heart, that in return, changed our lives. The preacher talked about Phil, about the choices he was making before he decided to turn his life over to God. As we left, Zack looked at me and said "I see myself in him. That could be me. I need to change. Let's start going to church."

A few weeks later, we were sitting in a brand new church, and I cried. I looked around at all the smiling faces and I realized that we were exactly where we needed to be. Jadon went to play group, where he was able to interact with other kids, and Zackary and I enjoyed a beautiful service. I'm regretful that we let life get in the way of God, but we have made it our New Year's Resolution to not let that happen again.

We slowly moved back into Zack's mom's house, and we began to change, not only as a couple, but as parents. I think it wasn't until this time, when Jadon was about 20 months old, that our parental instincts truly kicked in. We began taking him places and spending more time bonding with him. We loved him, as a couple, like we had never taken the time to do so before. Zackary and I picked up a new hobby that helped us to grow closer together: geocaching. If you don't know what geocaching is, basically you go wandering around the forest with a compass looking for a Tupperware container filled with a notebook and some toys you get out of the 25 cent machine. Those times we spent lost, laughing, and just enjoying our time together, were the times I know kept our love alive. 

In the middle of March, Jadon and I were at home, while Zackary and his mom worked. I was cooking us some baked potatoes for lunch, and the next thing I know, the fire alarm was going off. I peeked into the living room and the couch was already in flames bigger than me. I turned around, grabbed up Jadon, and ran out the back door. As we stood in the front yard and watched the window bust out, I couldn't help but cry. I was so grateful my family was safe. I called Zackary at work and he didn't believe me. When he pulled up and saw all the fire trucks and Jadon and I sitting on the neighbors porch, he started running. We were just so happy for the gift of life. We had everything we needed in the people that surrounded us.

Jadon turned two in June, and we were so grateful to get to celebrate it with all of our family and friends. It was such a blessing to have every one together.

In the beginning of July, I lost a lady who meant the world to me, and it absolutely devastated me. My aunt was more than just an aunt, she was my greatest inspiration. Losing her was one of the hardest things I've ever been through. 

Shortly after that, Jadon's birth mother decided she wanted to start being a part of his life again, so we began to split our time with her. This was really tough and still is because she's not the best influence for him. I want to protect my not-so-little baby, but some things are out of my control.

So, this about sums up our year. It, honestly, was full of heart break and a lot of downs. I had my family, though. I had Zackary and Jadon. I also had my parents and my extended family, along with Zackary's family. Without all these people, I don't think I would have made it through this year. It was tough, but my family kept me going. Knowing that they will always be here for me is what keeps me going each and every day.

Here's to a new and BETTER year!

Building Up

"Rock bottom became the solid foundation on which I rebuilt my life." - J. K. Rowling

I've been through a lot of hardships in my life, things I very rarely choose to to speak about. However, I want to open up so that others may find hope in my story. Maybe you are in need of some inspiration to get through a tough time in your life, maybe you know someone who may need it, maybe you just liked to be armed with experience you can share with others...whatever the reason may be that you are reading my story, I hope you get something out of it.

I grew up my whole life with two parents who despised each other. I honestly can't recall even one moment in which they got a long. They would argue, scream, throw things at each other...it was World War III in my household. From very early on, I hated my life. My mother was verbally abusive; at one point, she told me she hoped I would drown in my bath. My father would just leave and not come back. I'd sit up all night calling him, and when he quit answering and eventually turned off his phone, I'd just sit there and leave voicemails. My brother would lock me in my room with really loud music so I couldn't hear my mom screaming and telling me all the terrible things she could think of. When I was about 8, I was blamed for my mom having to go to the mental doctor. She admitted herself to the hospital, but they sent her to a psychiatrist instead. All the medicines they doped her up on didn't really help; they just made her sleep through a big portion of my life.

When I was in the 6th grade, I cut myself for the first time. I snapped a hanger and took the sharp edge, and dug it in my skin. I barely left a scratch, but it was enough. I was instantly hooked on the release.

The very beginning of my Freshman year of high school, I lost my virginity to a guy who I honestly thought I'd spend the rest of my life with. Later, I found out, he cheated on me the very same night that he took my innocence. We broke things off a few weeks later.

That is when one of the most tragic things ever happened to me: I was raped by my best friend. My rapist was not only my best friend, but also my first kiss, a year prior. He was always there for me when I needed him, and I thought he'd always be there for me. Then, one evening, as it was getting dark, he took me in the woods near my house. We started fooling around, but I asked to stop. He wouldn't allow me to, however. He held my head there, and kept thrusting into my mouth. I fought against him, pushing him away, crying, gagging...it wasn't working. This was the beginning of me giving up. When I gave up and let him have his way, I believe I gave up on my life entirely. When he was finished, he left me all alone in the woods. I cleaned myself up, walked back to my house, and vowed to pretend nothing had happened, even though I was completely broken inside. I began to cut more. Not just more, but deeper. I almost bled out a few times over the next few years. It became an addiction.

A year passed, pretty uneventful, until the summer after my freshman year. This is when I started my journey into the world of drugs. I started dating a guy who was a heavy smoker, and I took my first hit off the magic pipe. I was instantly hooked to the way it made me forget everything around me. He got locked up at the end of that summer for heroin, and so I met a new guy.

This guy didn't believe in drugs, alcohol, or anything illegal, really. He had a car, and I felt so adventurous. One thing he was skilled in, however, was sex. We did it multiple times a day, and if I refused, he'd just start doing things, anyway. Things were good for a month or so, then the abuse started. I wasn't allowed to see my friends anymore, and I was lucky to even see my family. He started to call me fat, ugly, said I didn't try hard enough to get rid of my depression. He blamed all of our problems on me. He would cuss me out, make me feel like total shit, every single day. He made me feel like I couldn't leave, as if I was damaged goods, and I was incapable of being loved by anyone else. So I stayed. For a whole year, I stayed.

Then, one day, while he was at work, I said "screw you," and I went to a friend's house. He wanted me to leave her house, so he dumped me, knowing I'd go home to cry alone. When I got home, however, I didn't cry. I grabbed a bottle of Tylenol, and I took them all. About an hour later, I started to feel weird, and I freaked. I realized I didn't want to die after all. I told a friend, who told my father, who rushed me to the ER. I stayed a week, in the psych ward, where I decided it was time for a change. When I got out, I broke things off with him, and called up my old dealer. I had been off drugs while with my controlling ex, and I had no idea I could get back on them so quickly. The next year and a half is a complete blur in my brain. I was constantly drunk, constantly smoking pot, and I tried various pills. I hooked up with man after man, with a woman or two between. I used my body to get me drugs and alcohol. I was raped, taken advantage of, used. A year and a half later, I was completely used. 

I can't tell you exactly why I quit, but all of a sudden, something in my mind just clicked. I realized I wanted to make something of myself. I got kicked out of school half way through my senior year. This is exactly the point I realized that I had hit rock bottom. It was time for a change. I dedicated all my heart and mind into bettering myself, into building myself back up. I went to a new school, met good friends, and focused on my studies. I graduated high school in 2014, with a decent GPA, and enrolled a community college.

This is when I began to date Zack. This is when I became Jadon's mother. This is when I realized that I could never go back to that life, or I would lose my family that I was beginning to love.

I now no longer mess with drugs, I only drink a few beers here and there, and I am helping my fiancé to raise his son. I haven't cut in quite some time, and the suicidal thoughts have decreased drastically. I am still working to build myself, to learn who I truly am, but I work hard each day. I hit rock bottom, and I recognize that. I have vowed to never end up that low again, and I have to consciously work each and every day to stay away from that. Rock bottom is the foundation on which I have built this absolutely amazing life. I am a survivor, I am recovering, and I am still here.

Dear Graduate,

Dear Graduate,

It is only 2015, and you are not even two years old yet, but I wanted to write this to you now so that you can see what life was like. You have dirty blonde "curls for the girls," and the cutest darn smile I have ever seen. You have the deepest, bluest eyes, like the vast ocean. You love Thomas the train (100% my doing,) and you can't get enough cheese in your mouth at one time. Your favorite shirt has a bicycle on it, which you love, even though you are too little to ride them. Actually, you LOVE anything with wheels. Your favorite song is Anaconda by Nicki Minaj, and a few months back, you woke up from a dead sleep when it came on the radio, and just started dancing. One of your favorite things to do is dance, and you and your GiGi do it all the time. You visit frequently with Mimi and Papa, where Mimi is constantly teaching you and Papa is consistently coming behind her back and letting you do whatever you want.

I hope you have dreamed big. I know I have big dreams for you. I dream that you grow up and meet a woman, or a man, that you love deeply. I hope, although it's going to kill me, you suffer a couple heartbreaks first. I hope you find something you are passionate about, whether it be sports, art, music, science, literature...anything. I just hope you find at least one true passion. I hope you don't allow what anyone has to say to affect you negatively. Take the negative comments and let them shape you into a better, stronger person. I dream that you graduate high school and go on to do something great with your life. No, I'm my going to force you to go to college, but if that's what you've chosen, great! 

I hope you still hug and kiss you momma frequently, and if you haven't, please do. I can only hope that you will still see me as a mother, whether it be your primary one, or your bonus mom. I am your friend, also. I'm sure over the years, you've hated me a lot, resented me, wondered why your father chose me, but I hope and pray that you've also loved me, appreciated me, and discovered exactly why I was put in your life.

There's things I probably haven't told you about yet, but I'm guessing at this point, you are old enough. Before you, I was a wreck. I drank a lot, smoked a lot, partied a lot. I made a lot of terrible decisions. I'm sure you've seen the scars and wondered why I would do that to myself. I'll tell you now, I hated myself with a deep burning passion. Then, you came into my life, and it's like the parts of my brain that were never quite right, just clicked into place. I was put on this earth to be your mother. My sole purpose in life became to raise you as best as I could. I'd be lying if I said some days I didn't feel like a complete failure, but never once did I turn back to my old life, because you needed me, and I couldn't abandon you. You forgave so easily, that I eventually learned to start forgiving myself. You saved me, Jadon. It's clear as day, you are MY guardian angel.

I'm proud of you. I don't know what you are doing at this point in your life, but I know for a fact, I'm proud of you because you are still here, you didn't give up. Maybe I don't tell you often enough how proud I am of you; I think parents often get wrapped up and forget to do that. I am, though. I promise.

Jadon, you were my first son. You were the first thing that I truly loved unconditionally. You gave me a meaning. Even at 18 months, you held me while I cried (I'm serious, you really did, back pats and all.) You knew that I didn't give birth to you, but you also knew I was safe and I was here for you. You expressed that often in your actions. You trusted me fully, and I hope that trust still remains. I love you, son.

"I'll love you forever. I'll like you for always. As long as I'm living, my baby you'll be"

Love,

Momma

What is a step mom?

What is a step mom?

To be honest, I don't think I can give you the correct answer to that question. There's so many different kinds that it would be impossible. I can, however, tell you what it is for me.

My journey as a step mother had no "dip your toes in and see how it goes from there," vibe to it. No, it was more "dive in deep and know you'll never make it back to the top." I went from an 18 year old girl, fresh out of high school, to a full-time step-in mother, covered in puke, pee, and lots of slobbery kisses. I used to party my days away, get so wasted I couldn't even tell you my own name. I would hop from party to party, man to man, living as if I had no worries. Then, an unexpected message on the book of faces, turned my world around. I didn't reply, as I knew I'd fall again, get hurt, and end up right back where I started. However, when I found myself in deep emotional distress, I felt as if he was the one I needed to turn to. I was scared, skeptical, worried I would just end up heart broken all over again, yet, I risked it all. Because I took the risk, I gained not only the greatest soon-to-or ex be husband in the whole wide world, but the most amazing son I could ever ask for. 

The moment I met Jadon and he climbed up in my arms, I knew \the little angel was put in my life for a reason. God sent him here to save me.s  He knew I needed help, and Jadon needed a mother. He brought us together because He knew we needed each other.

At first, all I had to do was play with him and hold him. Then, one night, I put myself up to the ultimate task: it was time to start acting like a mother. He was fighting bedtime as hard as he could, and as he was frustrating his father, I decided to give it a try. I downloaded a pandora lullaby station. I held him and rocked him, I walked around, I hummed, I think I cried a little, but finally, after an hour or so, I had a sleeping baby on my chest. I had my perfect sleeping angel, right there, in my arms. How can a mother ever forget a moment that great?

Next, I took on a not-so-amazing task. I learned how to change a diaper. Can you believe, I was 18 and couldn't change a diaper to save my life? Now, not even a year later, and I can do it backwards, blindfolded, in my sleep.

I think that some step moms may be so "evil" because they feel used. They are supposed to do everything a birth mother would, but never get an ounce of respect or gratitude out of it. Why would they do that? 

I do it because seeing that smile on his face is enough for me. I do it because I truly love this little boy unconditionally and I would die a thousand times over just for him to be happy everyday for the rest of his life. I do it, not because I have to, but because I want to.

Don't get me wrong, I have my moments like every other mother. I've crawled in a ball and cried my eyes out because I felt like I was losing my mind. But, do you want to know what I did next? I picked my booger butt up, and held him tight, and told him I was sorry. Quite often, I feel like I'm a failure. I feel as if I wasn't meant to be a mother, even though that's all I've wanted my whole life. However, I've learned that being a mother isn't about doing it all right, because no one can do that. No, it's about failing miserably, then picking yourself up off that bathroom floor and trying again until you do get it right. It's about love. Being a mother is ALL about love. It's about loving another being more than you love even yourself. 

The special thing about a step mother is, they have no connection to that child. They didn't give birth to them, no one would say anything if they ever decided it was just too much. Yet, they still do it. They look at a child, and they don't see themselves as a kid, they don't think about holding their naked newborn body on their chest. No, they don't get that. They have to form a bond with their step child. They have to consciously choose to see this kid as their own.

For me, it wasn't even an option to not be Jadon's mother. I knew right away that this was what I was put on this earth to do. I was put here to show him how to treat a woman, how to respect her. I was put here to be a compassionate, loving figure in his life.

I love my full-time job. I love being a step mother more than I've ever loved anything else. Yes, I've had to make a lot of sacrifices. Yes, I've had to give up some things I love, but I love him more, way more than I could love anything else. I thank God every day for giving me this amazing opportunity. I thank God every day for  allowing me to be a step mom.

Letter to my Child's Mother

I was planning on doing a traditional first blog post. You know; introduction, day in the life, Q&A...something along those lines. Then I realized, my life is not traditional. A few days away from 19, and I'm engaged to the man of my dreams and raising his son as if he were my own. This is not the traditional life, therefore this is not a traditional first blog post.

I have never said a word to Jadon's mother, and honestly I probably never will. She's not worth wasting even one word on. However, if I was to ever say anything to her, this is what it would be.

Dear mother of my child,

I don't even know where to begin. I have so many emotions towards you, so many things I want to say, but I'm not sure how. I guess I'll begin with...hello.

Hello, I am the lady that's been raising your son. I'm the one who will continue to raise him. I'm the one who will have to hold him, who will have to wipe his tears when he gets a boo boo or the kids at school say something mean. On the other hand, I'm the one who gets to rock him to sleep at night. I will get to walk him in to his first day of pre school, and celebrate his second birthday. I am privileged because I get to raise such an amazing child.

If I'm being honest, whenever I think of you, the blood in my veins boil. I want, so badly, to just walk up to you, and smack you across the face for being so selfish, for being such a terrible mother. I wish you could just care about your child. I wish he could have you in his life, even if you and his father are not together. He deserves his mother. He does not deserve what you are doing to him, at all. I wish you'd call more often, to check up on him. I wish you would stick around when he comes to visit, and not just leave when something "more important" rises. Let's be honest, what could be more important than your own blood? I wish that he was more important to you than the man of the week. I wish he was more important to you than all those drugs you fill your body with. I wish, more than anything, that I won't have to look at him one day and say "I'm sorry she's never around." I wish you'd care about your son.

However, since you don't, I am. I am raising him to the best of my ability. I have to thank you for giving me that opportunity. I am teaching him to dress himself, to use the big boy potty. I am teaching him his body parts and how to say "please" and "thank you." I am showing him what true, unconditional love is. I'd be lying if I said that sometimes I don't want to rip my hair out, that sometimes I  question motherhood. I, however, would never, ever, ever give up on that little boy. I will raise him to be a gentleman. I raise him to be intelligent and generous and to be a better parent than you. I will give him all the love that you should. I will hug him and kiss him and tuck him in at night. I will always be there for him.

Please, don't ever worry. As long as I'm around, I can promise you, he will be alright. Maybe one day, you'll decide it's time to be a mother. I hope if you do, you stick with it. He's not even two, and he's had more loss and more heartbreak than any human being should ever have to go through. I am here to protect him. I will fight until it kills me to make sure he's okay, to assure he has what he needs and also what he wants.

I may not have given birth to him, but he is certainly mine. Thank you for being kind enough to carry him for nine long months, to deliver him safely and healthy. I can never pay you back for that. I will never be able to express how much I appreciate that.

I love Jadon with all my heart, and I hope that you can see that. I hope you can see that I'm good for him, and that if you do decide to be a part of his life one day, you don't try to take him from me or turn him against me. He has given me hope, he has changed my whole life around.

My son. Your son. Our son. I will raise him as a mother would.

Love,

The mother of your child