One of the best days in my life was when I realized I can conceive. That blue cross, and single line revealed themselves less than 60 seconds, so there was no need to second guess the results but, I still took the quickest shower and walked to Rite Aid to buy 3 more tests. I was full of joy, and excitement despite one’s feelings not being neutral. I wanted to create an offspring out of love. I found the love of my life; he was the sweetest man I ever met, the only man who never called me out my name, and spoiled me, besides my father. Unlike any other man I met, a machine pumped his heart. I felt like no matter what I would always want something to remind me of him, if God called him home too soon. I knew from that point on if God gave me the opportunity to pick my offspring’s other creature, it would be him. I had too much anxiety, and not enough faith but, against all odds I decided this is what I wanted. I knew my freedom, impulse decisions, school, and my young adult life that I once lived spontaneously will now have restrictions. But I didn’t care. I had a whole plan, I prayed for you. I was going to be someone’s mother. As time went on things weren’t going as I expected, my reality wasn’t what I anticipated. Once again my depression won, and when he wins, I lose the most important parts of me. Mentally, emotionally I was already drained so it didn’t take much for him to control me. He lived up to his name, Major Depression. He told me when I will eat, sleep, get out of bed, do the things I love, or who I was going to communicate with, if anyone at all. The thought of you being raised in a broken home killed me internally, slowly. The person I made a sacrifice for, no longer loved me, everything I thought was, wasn’t. This single mother shit, wasn’t what i was cut for. I wasn’t going to be a part of that 80% single mother statistic. That’s NOT what i signed up for, if i would have known I was gonna be in this spot I would have avoided the whole situation. I can still avoid the entire situation, I’m not even 15 weeks yet.. I still have time to save myself, and my unborn from the sequel of being raised in a broken home. Failed attempted. Get a phone call from my momma, she says, “ No matter your reason behind creating your own offspring you’re not having this baby for anyone else but yourself. When your child is born she will change your life in so many ways, she will be the best thing that ever happens to you. I know this isn’t what you planned but that doesn’t mean you will fail. Look at me, I raised three children on my own, and, you, and your sister came out just fine to me; It’s going to be okay.” I woke up, that’s the day I gained acceptance. I realized how much God has blessed me and how much I’ve been ungrateful. I couldn’t see all that I had in front of me, I just saw what I didn’t have. I came to the conclusion that not loving myself more than I loved another is what got me here. I allowed someone else’s view of me to diminish how I saw myself, although I knew how hard I fought to be better, and all the progress I had made. I realized I no longer loved myself, knew my worth, and lost my pride. I was insecure, resentful, and hurt. It was time to get my shit together, not for me, but for her. It’s no way I could shape her into being a strong, self loved, self motivated, genuine, secured, smart woman if i didn’t learn to be that person myself. I was going to be the best me i can be, so she can be the best, she can be .
unapologeticallyperfectlyimperfect 3 Minutes
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