Lately I’ve gotten into reading other people’s blogs, mostly single moms and even a single dad. I’ve found their stories relatable in some ways, inspiring in others, and feel some sort of connection to them being a single mother also – this is assuming that being a single mother means unwed because that is the only way in which I could possibly be considered single.
I am in a relationship with a man that I love incredibly. There are times when I don’t have all the burdens that 100% single moms have because I have my man, and he adores my baby girl. He is willing to watch her so I can go to aerobics or to dinner with my friends. He enjoys giving her baths, reading books, and tickling her until she goes into a completely infectious laughter. I am blessed to have found such a wonderful man to love me and my daughter. But that doesn’t mean that I don’t endure other aspects of being a single mom. Late nights with a fussy girl who can only be soothed by her mama, her blanket, and milk…in that order, embarrassing shopping trips with an out of control two year old, and drama from the sperm donor.
I’m more than happy now and although some don’t see our story as a fairytale I still do because in the end I found my prince – but before I found him, my life was anything but a fairytale. I was lost, lonely, insecure, and abandoned. Two years after my daughter’s birth and three since this whole charade started, I’m ready to tell my story. Some know it but others may be shocked, but what’s a good story without a little shock factor?
I was almost 20 when I met sperm donor, three months later I was pregnant. I had no idea what I was getting myself into with this guy. I am so ashamed to say that I bought into what he was selling me. We went out a couple of times to parties and I saw that he was into drugs. I never thought it was a problem. I needed all of my fingers and toes to count how many people I knew that had used or were using some form of recreational drugs. I really didn’t think it was as big of a deal as it was. Pretty soon he was stealing my car and money, disappearing and leaving me deserted, and accusing me of cheating and ruining his life. If the unexpected miracle of life hadn’t of happened that would have been the end of me and sperm donor. I would not have had a reason to stay, but it did, and I thank God every day for the miracle he blessed me with.
Achy boobs and beer.
The first week in August I went to Myrtle Beach with my friends. Little did I know it was sort of my last hooh-rah. Before the trip I had dreamed two separate times that I was pregnant but I really didn’t think too much more about it. I was so relieved to be on the trip, especially since sperm donor had taken all of the money I saved up, but I was worried the whole time about what he was doing back home with my car and phone. During my week at the beach I noticed some things were different about me. I lacked energy and took advantage of lying out in the pool or on the beach. I wasn’t hungry during the day, instead food made me feel nauseous, but by night time I was famished. A couple of times I tried to drink beer or mixed drinks but it also made me sick. Then I had yet another dream. I think I knew that I was preggo, but wasn’t ready to admit it.
The night I got home from the beach I was expecting sperm donor to be waiting for me at his apartment. Instead he was missing with my cell phone and my car. I was stranded because I’d sent my friends home in a desperate attempt to keep this all a secret from them. I was so embarrassed with what this had all come to. After walking to a nearby gas station, in a not so great part of town, I was able to reach another friend, MJ, to come and pick me up. She was 8 months preggo at the time and was a dear, dear friend of mine and I had relied on her so much already. In times like these you really find out who your friends are.
So anyways, I was really down due to the fact that my boyfriend was a drug addict and verbally abusive. I brought a bag of beer with me, yes a bag – I’m classy, to drown my sorrows into and share with her boyfriend since they were doing so much for me. I started drinking a beer, got about a ¼ of it down and then threw up. This was a sure sign that something was not right; I could always “handle” my beer, especially the first one. I looked up at MJ my arms still hanging over the toilet and said, “I think I’m pregnant.” Those words were so deafening and the last I thought to be coming out of my mouth. She scurried around the house looking for a pregnancy test she knew she had, and then I peed on it.