Childless Mother

When I was a little girl people told me not to try and grow up so quick. That I should enjoy my childhood because one day I will look back and be thankful of those memories. I am so glad that I listened to them, because boy did my life take a few more drastic turns than anyone could ever have expected .

Fast forward; Teenage years

I was a great kid. I minded well, had good grades and anything I touched turned to gold. I was so tired of being the good girl that I under no circumstances had the right to be such a pain in the ass. Sneaking out, drinking and drugging. Yeah, unbridled wild child with the world in my grasp and I chose the streets. I ran wild the next few years and picked up more than one bad habit. I was that girl parents worried about their precious daughters befriending. That in some sick twisted way made me happy. Finally, I had shed the image of the Sandra Dee and stepped into those skin tight black pants and those Candie slingbacks with the Winston smoke hanging off my lip. I was now a bad-ass. In all reality I was that insecure, neurotic ugly duckling that had just hit puberty and built like a brick shithouse. I wanted to be liked, accepted but not like everyone else. I was carving my way into a life I wish I never had to live.

My third 10th grade year of high school I met a boy who would forever change my life. Change me into an adult stuck between a fleeting adolescence and my own purgatory. That year I had become pregnant and embraced my new womanly body that came complete with new challenges. Like finding my feet or trying not to piss myself if a sneeze snuck up on me. I was 17 with this huge belly and a brand new responsibility and there was the life I was carrying that I was creating who I would become.

I was no longer able to run the streets, hell I couldn't get out off the couch most days. I embraced motherhood, nesting like a momma bird, preparing a nursery that would later become a place of sadness. It was a room made with love and dreams of what would give me purpose. Everything matched, the diapers were stocked, tiny little socks in the drawer waiting for tiny feet.

October 16, 2000 I was having a baby. A son, born with dark hair, healthy and 8 pounds of bouncing baby. He was sweet, a spitting image of me. Docile, and calm yet I freaked out looking into the future of my new life. I was mommy now. I was a very tired mommy. Bottle feedings, changing diapers and just happy as I could be with my new family. Although it wouldn't last. 33 days later, I woke up to find my boy, he was not breathing. Paramedics rushed to my house, grabbing my lifeless son, running out of the house to get him to the hospital. Merely 20 minutes later pronounced my seemingly healthy baby dead. He was gone, I was here left to wonder why him. Why me?

Seeing him in that tiny casket sent this numbness through me. I cared about nothing anymore. Subconsciously that day he was lowered into the frozen dirt, I decided I was going to join him soon. I was now on this path of destruction that not one person could understand or blame me. I was now a childless mother. He was now free.

I buried him 3 days before I turned 18. I was a baby myself with this burden on my shoulders of this grief that I could not process. I couldn't understand what the hell happened. Was it me, something I've done? I questioned God, cursed him, hated him for all of this tragic waste of now two lives that could be anything but had become nothing. He a memory and me a lost cause. I drank, a lot and tried to kill my pain with narcotics and designer drugs. I was trying to find something to love because I was numb. I was a zombie with no way out. No emotions anymore. Just hate and anger. This world owed me my son. I was going to get him back any way I could, even if it was in death.