Further into my pregnancy, I started to worry: I worried that my son wouldn’t like me — that I’ll be a failure as a mom. I was afraid that when he was born he was going to take one look at me and scream out in agony.
When I found out I was pregnant, I was months into my pregnancy and I should have known I was pregnant the moment I missed my period but my menstrual cycle has never been regular. I never understood why I was so excited that I was pregnant when I knew and felt that being a mom is something I couldn’t do. This wasn’t my first pregnancy. My very first pregnancy, I was 17 years old. Young and stupid. Doing things that I thought I was grown enough to do. The first time I have sex I wind up pregnant; I was scared. I was scared of what my friends would think. I was scared that I wouldn’t finish school. That all changed when my grandmother told me to get an abortion. When my grandmother made me get an abortion, I was devastated but sadly, relieved. I was in my last year of school and was months away from graduating. My grandmother told me that I can’t have a child get in the way of me finishing school. All I could think was that, she’s my grandmother and she wouldn’t do anything to hurt me.
Then I miscarried years and years after that. I didn’t even have an idea of what a miscarriage was. All I knew was that my cramps were excruciating and they only came around the same time every evening. I was bleeding heavily and crying every night until I finally went to the hospital and they told me that I was pregnant but were no longer. When I got home I took it out on my ex-boyfriend because he wasn’t there for me. Every night I was alone crying and in pain and when I saw him all I saw was red. Then I got mad at myself, how could I take care of a child when I couldn’t take care of myself? I felt like such a failure and it was my fault. I blamed myself for the miscarriage for a very long time.
I stopped blaming myself when I gave birth to my son. He didn’t look at me with agonizing pain, he didn’t scream in terror. He just looked at me through squinted eyes as they were clearing his airways and stared. When they wrapped him up and handed him to me, I was frightened, tired, and excited. So many emotions flowing through me but in the back of my head I was still worried of what he would think of me. I soon realized that my worries were unnecessary. My son doesn’t care how I look; he doesn’t think I’m the worse mom ever; or a failure. He’s everything to me. He’s my hero, my strength, my reason for living. He makes me so happy and everyday he makes me smile.
Being a mom is the best thing I’ve ever done with my life. I love being a mom. Every other aspect of my life I failed at. I’m a failure as a friend, a sister, an artist, a wife. I push all of my friends away, I lose interest in things I love and push those away too. I never have been close to my siblings so I pushed them farther away. I’m sure there are more that I’m forgetting but the point is, being a mom is what I was meant to be. There’s so many parts of my life that I screwed up by making the wrong decisions. I think the very first one was when I let my grandmother convince me that getting an abortion was okay when I knew in my heart it wasn’t. I wanted my baby and I should have stood up for myself.
I love my son unconditionally, I love him so much. I can talk to him and not fear of judgment. When he smiles at me, my world lights up like a jar full of fireflies. I feel like I was born to be a mother and I’m glad I got a chance to experience motherhood. What I miss the most though is his kicking and punching inside my belly. I miss rubbing my stomach only for him to respond back by kicking my hand. Even though my pregnancy experience wasn’t all that great and I was stressed out for most of it, the end result is all that mattered. I gave birth to my hero. He makes me happy when I’m down and make my day a lot better. He makes me crazy sometimes and yea he can be a handful but he’s the reason why I live. I live for my son and my son only. He’s all I have and I’m fine with that fact.