Five years ago, I was told I wouldn’t have children unless I had professional help. Maybe not even then. Talk about devastation. A little over a year ago, I found out I was pregnant (without help, might I add). Eight weeks pregnant, to be exact. In May of last year, I found out this bundle of joy would come to be a boy. Eleven months ago, I held him for the very first time.
The past six months, I spent working in retail. I missed his first word (dada, of course!) I missed his first time crawling. I felt like I missed him growing like a weed. When my husband got full time at his new job, I jumped for joy when he told me I could become a full time mommy. It’s all I have ever wanted.
I have been staying home with him for the past month, and let me tell you, IT IS WORK. But, it is so worth it. I love keeping his house clean, I love cooking the meals, I love the playtime and craft time with my little one. I have slowly transitioned.
But, I am TERRIFIED. What if I’m not cut out for this? What if somewhere along the way I mess up and he hates me? I had a rough childhood, that’s a story for another time. I don’t want my son to have the life I had, I don’t want him to be as unhappy as I was. My son is my world, and I will give the world back to him.
That’s what I will fight for, I will go back to school and I will fight to give him the life he deserves. I will raise him to know that I was broken once upon a time, but that God found me. He will know of THE Father that blessed mine and my husbands life by giving us this little boy. I can only pray that he grows to love and believe in God as much as I have. I wasn’t always that way, so I will help my son if he ever goes through that. I’ve been there, I will pray he never is.