The Day I Grew Up...

Today is a very special day. Today is my eldest's birthday. He turns 7 years old.

My son continues to make me prouder as each day passes, and he doesn't have to do much. He is so special. I pray that he has everything I never had. I hope that he's stronger than I perceive myself to be at that age. I hope that my trials and tribulations helped pay his off in full, so he won't have to deal with as much.

At the time I became pregnant, I was living the lifestyle of a party girl. I was going out, spending money, a little underage drinking didn't hurt (my ex-husband was 21 years old. A year older than I). I was going out to all the hottest clubs in Hawaii, surrounded by very hot and very nubile guys. It was tough doing the Army thing, but man, did we party.

Everything changed when one week I was sick as a dog. I had no energy. No joie de vivre. I went to the doctor's office assuming I had mononucleosis (I had gotten in high school from my boyfriend so I knew the symptoms). When that man came back in saying that I was pregnant, I was floored.

I was in shock that whole weekend. Being selfish and 20 years old, in my perceived prime of life, I did not want to pursue this pregnancy. I told my ex-husband (we were obviously married for two years at the time) that I did not want to continue. My brother was staying with me and supported me while I tried to get my mind right. Ex-hubby was not pleased, but in his way, he was always supportive.

I called my mom one day and told her that I was preggers, but didn't want to do it. I had been talking to a coworker who was studying to be a chaplain for the Army, and every answer he gave me, shot down my excuses to not proceed. I wanted to party still. I wanted wear my cute miniskirts and party with all the beautiful people, and live the life. I couldn't run. My coworker was shooting down my shoddy defenses, and every commercial on t.v. seemed to be about babies.

My mother told me a few words I'll never forget: "...Just have the baby." Very serious, not judgmental, but understanding.

I went on to have my little guy, and I don't regret a thing. The devil was trying to get me to play God (I am still pro-choice) but thank God I had people who helped my heart get right.

If I didn't have my little guy around, I would feel lost. For many years, he was motivation for everything I did. We are not perfect parents, but we try and we don't give up. The casket will have to drop very, very far before we give up, and even then, we'd keep it moving on the otherside for this little guy.

I realized seven years ago today, that it was no longer about me. I had something and someone more important to live for. All the cigarettes, the booze, the guys, the clubs, the late nights partying didn't matter anymore. My son was always on my heart. I grew up and I fully became a woman. It took that for me to realize I was a woman. Not being able to buy alcohol, cigarettes or get into some event, as I previously thought.

Today, he's an accomplished school ager who's kicking ass in school and I am so happy for him. He's already doing better than me at that age. I can't believe I had any doubts about what I should've done.

Little monkey, if one day you read this, I want you to know that I love you. And that I am so proud of you. And I am so glad you are here. Never go away. Ever.

Happy Birthday, little Dude!

P.S. I've included Nancy by Frankie Blue Eyes because I'm a huge fan and I used to sing this song (and cry lol) to little Dude when he was such a baby. Because his name ends in a Y, it was easy to substitute words. I still feel this same way, except times two because of my youngest, Stay Puft Jr.

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