Coulda. Shoulda. Woulda. 

My heart is heavy. My eyes are watery and I feel a pit in my stomach. 

I read a post on Facebook that really hit me hard. Any time I see videos or read articles about sick babies it makes me sad but it’s especially tough to swallow when that beautiful baby belongs to someone I know. I take these kinds of things very personally and I always end up in tears. I try to put myself in the shoes of the parents because that could’ve easily been me….

I was so far along when I found out I was expecting. 20 weeks to be exact. 

For 5 months I was living my life without a care in the world. I guess you could say I WAS OUTTA CONTROL. Drank through the holidays. Drank the whole month of February, since me & my girlfriends are all Aquarius babies. I would go out almost every weekend if I wasn’t working. Partied basically all of April for my sisters birthday. Then there was Coachella. All that alcohol, the weed, the molly…. I had no idea I was housing another human being. 

When I finally got the guts to take a pregnancy test I was in disbelief. I tricked my mind into believing that the stick read negative. I went to the doctors to get checked and insisted that they were wrong. I was in complete denial. This couldn’t be real. The doctor told me I was 20 weeks and 4 days and I could not wrap my head around that. I sobbed, almost hysterically, and asked for another doctor. Another ultrasound. She was wrong, she had to be. I would’ve felt a baby in my stomach. I would’ve noticed all the changes in my body…Wouldn’t I? My instincts couldn’t have failed me so drastically. I needed her to be wrong! 

The next 4 months were the hardest for me. My belly started showing, you could tell there was life blossoming inside of me. I was so scared, so nervous, SO embarrassed. I refused to look at my ultra sound when the nurse offered, none of it felt real. I repeated “I am not having a baby”. Over and over. The nurse watched me cry, tried to calm me down, asked me if I had any support. The more she asked me the more I cried. I know that’s all part of her job but I don’t know what she expected my reaction to be. I was crushed. 
That same day the doctor sat with me as we called around to every hospital in the area. I was dead set on the fact that I was not going to have a child & she was doing her job by finding me somewhere that would do just that. I cried for hours that day. I wanted so badly for this nightmare to be over. How would I tell my parents? My child’s father? My sisters? All I wanted to do was crawl into bed and cry but I knew what I had to do. So I called my ex….
After revealing my pregnancy to all my family and friends and getting all kinds of love and encouragement I felt a weight lift off my shoulders. I wasn’t in shock anymore, I embraced the fact that I was going to be a mother. I was gonna do this on my own & I was going to make it work! I tried my best to enjoy those last 4 months but no matter how much I tried to keep busy I just couldn’t shut out this sick feeling. I went to so many doctors appointments, meet with counselors, with psychologists, it was exhausting but I knew it was necessary. I never withheld the fact that I consumed alcohol, every time a doctor would ask I told them everything. I didn’t care what they might think about me, I hoped they’d understand because all I wanted was to make sure that my baby was okay. 
It was a miracle. Every time they checked on me EVERYTHING was going smoothly. My OGBYN never had any worries, she never told me of any possible complications. My baby was growing normally, I wasn’t gaining much weight but My daughter was cooking perfectly fine. I knew she was okay but the nightmares still woke me at night. I dreamed of a drowning baby, suffocating in my stomach as it swallowed all the alcohol in my belly. I worried every day. People would ask me, like they do any new mom, if I was excited to become a mommy. If I was nervous. If I was ready for her arrival. The truth is I wasn’t. I never felt ready, I was forced to be. 


Sunday September 7, 2014 at exactly 7:10AM

I gave birth to a healthy 19in. 6lbs 10oz baby girl.  I couldn’t believe that she was finally here & that she was so perfect. I know all moms think their babies are the most beautiful creatures on planet earth, because I know I do. Lol. But I’m not talking about looks. 
I did things during my pregnancy that could have resulted in so many horrible ways but they didn’t. She could’ve been born with a mental disorder. But she wasn’t. I should’ve followed my gut and taken a test sooner and maybe I could’ve enjoyed my pregnancy but I didn’t, instead I waited. I used to lay in bed and think about all the possibilities there was of her being born with some abnormality and how she would’ve had a hard life & would probably blame me for the rest of her life, but she didn’t. SHE WAS PERFECT! 

I cried so much throughout my pregnancy, questioned myself and the decisions I made. I thought a lot about God. I questioned Him for all the pain and the struggle I endured in those short 5 months. I punished myself for things that hadn’t even happened yet. I felt sorry for myself when there was nothing to feel sorry for. All that time I spent feeling pity for myself I should’ve spent enjoying the fact that I was growing a life inside my own. Being grateful for all the people who stood by my side, for giving me the strength to believe in myself as a new mother. God blessed me with a healthy girl even after all the mistakes I made, even after I felt like the odds were against me. I try to pray as often as I can to thank Him because things like that post I read on FB remind me that not everyone is as lucky as I am. 


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