UNBROKEN

for Wesley Mike, my first-born...my angel, my life.

 

Broken. That's the only way I can describe how I felt when I was told I was pregnant. My heart was broken, my spirit, and my mind. I was all alone in this. My spirit was broken because I had no support from anyone. I had already spoken to my long time boyfriend about it. He was angry and not willing to 'be any part of it'�. My mother, who was angry and upset, said I was stupid and couldn't care for myself and asked how I could care for a child? She made it clear that I wasn't living under her roof pregnant and unmarried. She also mentioned the fact that she wasn't going to 'raise a baby'� for me. My mind was broken because I had wracked my brain looking for a solution, a way out, the next step. I was homeless, jobless, loveless, and hopeless. Where could I turn? What was I going to do? I spent the next few days trying to figure it all out .My heart was broken, I cried it out. I felt betrayed and cheated. I didn't even know what I wanted to do with my twenty-one year old life and suddenly it wasn't even mine anymore. I was exhausted from anguish and worry. I felt certain anger at the life inside me, that invader. I was going to have to give up my life and it had just begun: I had finally gained the 'freedom'� to live the life I wanted to live and now it was going to have to be sacrificed. Why? I certainly didn't choose to be pregnant, I was on the 'pill'�. I took the precautions I was supposed to. I couldn't believe my misfortune. Why me?

I was about five months along when I started realizing my life was broken long before I became pregnant. I really had nothing to live for and could have cared less if I lived or died, or so I thought. I was living a life of self-abuse. I didn't know it at the time, but I have Bipolar disorder. This disease has symptoms of debilitating depression and mood swings. This led to my lifestyle: I wasn't caring for myself the way that I should. Severe and disastrous childhood crises and misfortunes added to my mood swings and depression. Because God had 'let bad things happen to me'�, I stopped believing in Him long ago. I felt mine wasn't a life worth living and I had become self-hating and self-destructing. I did not think I was deserving of a 'good'� life in which I cared enough about myself to take care of myself. I had been living a life in which I was slowly dying . I thought about the things I had done to myself before my pregnancy. I thought of the things that I had probably inadvertently done to the life, the innocent and precious life, living inside of me because I hadn't taken care of myself. I had to stop being so selfish. This child, this baby, had nothing to do with my past- only the future. The baby was not to blame. I was so ashamed of myself and the way I felt when I learned I was given a gift, when I learned a life was growing inside me. I wanted desperately to be a good mother to this child! Suddenly, I was grateful for this intruder, this invader, this borrower of bodies. I had something to live for. Something to call my own, someone who would love me unconditionally.

I started reading every pregnancy, labor, and parenting book I could find. I went to the library, borrowed from friends, and I did everything I could do to get my hands on any books on those subjects. I was still afraid. I was still worried and still lonely. I still questioned my ability to be a 'good'� parent- one that this child deserved. My parents had never been the parents they should have been. I had no idea how to love a child, how to care for myself let alone another human being. But, for the first time in a long time, I had hope.

I had such a mixture of feelings about myself. I felt I was hideous, I was beautiful. I was brave, scared, hopeless yet hopeful, stupid, and wise. What I was doing was disastrous, foolish, wonderful, sweet, glorious, miraculous. I knew I wanted to raise my baby. I wanted to with all of my heart. But, was I capable? Did I deserve such a miracle? Why did God choose me? Could I live up to the expectations? I was willing to try'�that's all I knew for the moment.

I worked at Dairy Queen, my old high school job, until about two weeks before my due date. That was the only place of employment willing to let me work for a temporary time without a fixed schedule. I had to work around Doctor appointments and Lamaze classes. I saved money and bought the things I thought the baby and I would need with each paycheck. The baby's father and I decided to give it a go and moved in together. My mother had finally accepted the decision I had made about the baby and was trying to mend our relationship. Things seemed to be falling into place. I spent my days reading my pregnancy books, going to Lamaze classes, and trying to dream of my baby's face. I had decided it was a boy. No one could convince me otherwise. I started thinking of names for him. I was told to think of a girl name, 'just in case'�. But, I knew my baby was a boy.

The baby's time had come. It was December 3, 1994. The baby was over-due and the doctors had decided to induce labor. In just a matter of hours, I would finally meet that stranger that I had come to love so very much. I would set my eyes on that sweet face that was almost impossible to conjure up in my mind's eye. When the baby was placed in my arms, I cried, 'My precious boy, my beautiful baby, I just knew it!'� I loved him more than I ever thought possible. He hadn't been on earth an hour and I would have gladly laid down my life for him, my Wesley Michael.

So precious, this boy of mine, I could never look at him enough. I would study his small face while he nursed. I felt a sense of awe and wonder at him and his very existence. He would wrap his small arms around me and smile up at me with a knowing look. It was if we shared a secret, the two of us, about life that no one else would ever know. I would watch him sleep and marvel at his dreams. What do babies dream of? Milk, Mommy, warm baths'�or was it more? What was my little boy dreaming of? His smiles told me his dreams were good and sweet.


He discovered his hands. Twisted them, folded them into fists, turned them in wonder and discovery. Such strong little hands. Such good hands. They will someday hold manly, worldly things. Today and always they will hold my heart. He is growing so very quickly it is almost heart- breaking. I try to hold on to him tightly, but he is growing independent and needs me less and less. He is an ever- surprising well of strength and self. He is so aware of what he wants and tries with all his might to achieve his goals without help.

He is no longer a baby. He is growing and making such strides in life! I feel lucky to be a part of it. But I am also selfish in wanting him to need me more. I find myself with mixed feelings again. I have raised him as a single mother as things really didn't work the way I had planned. I feel so sad and regretful of mistakes I have made- I often think of ways I could have done things better. But, I am so joyful and proud when I think of the things I have done right. This thing called motherhood has taught me so much, yet left me wondering still. I agonize in bittersweet thought, hoping I have done him justice. Hoping I can continue to do so. I love looking in his green eyes and his earnest face. I love the way his heart-felt laughter and smile warms my very heart.
Watching his hands at their jobs: basketball, football, homework, and chores. Watching his growing body and seeing the possibilities. I wonder, who will he be? A doctor? A poet? A football or basketball player? A factory worker or a construction worker? Will he achieve fame? Or will he lead an ordinary life? No matter, he is a miracle, my miracle. He is and always will be the love of my life. The only reason behind anything I will ever do, anything I ever accomplish in life will be because of him.

I often think of where I would be without him, I recall that sense of loneliness and fear when I found out I was going to be a mother, and I find that sense of loneliness and fear emerge at the thought of life without motherhood. I hear women complain or talk of losing their identities with motherhood. Not me, I gained an identity with it. One of which I am proud of and would never trade for anything else. I gained a sense of purpose and worth, a sense of love I had never known before, an ever-lasting hope for life and living. I may accomplish other things in life; I may wear many hats. But, first and foremost I am a mother. I am strong, dependable, capable, and honorable. Life has a meaning that is precious and good. I am not broken. I am mended in a way never possible without motherhood. I am UN-broken.

Reviews

[OceanTropic]

...I am absolutely stunned.

I, myself, am cold when it comes to chlidren. I don't like them (i'm not mean to them) and I get annoyed easily when a baby cries. Ironic, I am 21 years old myself, and I understood everything you wrote about feeling broken and lonely, the shock and fear and unahppiness I would feel if I got pregnant. I was clued to this piece of writing.

As I read on, I felt selfish myself. The way you described this baby's hands...and the look he gave you "a life's secret we shared." That literally made me cry. That really changed my outlook on life, and i'm fascinated that it did so in only several minutes. I truly thank you for writing this. You have opened a new window. Now, although not truly, but now, I can understand the beauty of motherhood. Thank you so much for this piece. I will always remember it.

[.Bunnie.]

This was such a very touching story. Pregnancy can be such a hard thing to deal with....especially when you KNOW you're on your own. I found out I was pregnant last year, and the news was absolutely devastating. I knew my 38 yr old boyfriend who has 2 daughters of his own (one 17 and one 11) didn't want any more, and I knew it would end us. I now live in Illinois, and all of my family is back home in Texas, was I WAS alone in every sense of the word. Apparently the Gods chose that I shouldn't have a child, or else the lack of love in my heart made it die, but when I was about 3 weeks pregnant I lost it. I've never told anyone that before.... My first time ever saying it out loud. But I think you hit the nail on the head with this story, and I would be willing to bet my dearly beloved sugar cookies sitting in the kitchen that this will give a lot of young pregnant women hope--something that they CERTAINLY do not have any of. I commend you for sharing this story with us, and I'm glad things at least turned out good for you!! :)

[C K.]

That's such a sweet story. Ckx

[THERISA]

Funny how life can deliver to us, the things which we need to heal ourselves. Without even realizing it at the time. An emergency, like an unexpected pregnancy or rejection by a family member. Forcing us to deal with the core issues that we have been avoiding for most of our lives. Realizing that there is more to life than we knew. Thank you for sharing this very personal and emotional part of your life with us. And, you continue in the healing process that you have started already.

Therisa