Family

There’s always a moment for every single mother that she envisions the family she could have had, or should have had. And, with raging hormones and a new baby, it’s easy to convince yourself that it will, or should, work. It may be bullshit. Be careful.

I left for a reason. I left because I wasn’t happy. I was miserable. And, I can have all the feels, but I can’t let them drive me back into something I left for A REASON.

This is a new version of normal. I’m not going to get the mommy, daddy, two kids, two dogs, and a white picket fence. My package is different, ever evolving, and unique.

I’m still grappling with being a mom of two. The last addition I need to my basket of shenanigans is a relationship I don’t feel confident about.

When I found out I was pregnant with my oldest son, Blaise, I was engaged to his father. Almost immediately, I called off the engagement. Even young and naive, I knew I could only handle one major life event. I stepped away from the relationship to focus on my pregnancy. At the end, I realized the relationship was toxic, and I’d made the right decision. I mourned the loss of my son’s family. I was devastated, but always confident in my choice.

With my baby, I’d left his father months before I got pregnant. We were talking, trying again even, when I ended up pregnant. It’s been a lot to process. This wasn’t the story I’d written for myself, but my baby boy is as perfect as his older brother. And, he was meant to be. Selfish behaviors, know-it-all attitudes, and a refusal to be considerate kept his dad and I apart. They will keep us apart, forever. But, we have to figure out the parenting part, come hell AND high waters.

I don’t want to build a faux family for the sake of avoiding the stereotypes. I also don’t want to romanticize a relationship that will never truly happen.

Family comes in a variety of forms, and we have to be confident in the family we are creating, even when it’s unorthodox.

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Newborn and giving up.

6/22 I’m writing this with my newborn son on my shoulder. It’s been one week, two hours, and seventeen minutes of me being a mom of two. He’s perfect, and I’m faking normalcy.

7/27 My baby is now 6 weeks and 1 day. We’re side by side in the backseat of a car. We took a mini vacation to Memphis. It was challenging. It was an adventure. We’re in the last hour of the drive, he’s tired of the car seat, he wonders why I’m not taking him out of it, and I’m typing this with one hand while I hold his pacifier with the other.

But, he’s absolutely perfect. He’s happy and curious most of the time, but he screams his head off when he’s hungry. And, he expects his pacifier to be available 100% of the time. Doesn’t matter if he wants it. He wants it to be available. We have 6 pacifiers. He’s training me well. Again, I’m holding his pacifier in his mouth this moment.

I’m madly in love. I’m mother to 2 beautiful boys, 13 years apart, and almost identical twins. My heart is full. I can barely contain my happiness, even during 3A feedings and poop filled diapers. Life is good. I’m very blessed.

I can’t seem to wrap my mind around what’s happened in the last year. The break up. The pregnancy. The baby. Nothing was part of the plan. I give up.

And, I don’t give up in a negative way. I give up making decisions regarding love. I give up being sure of anything. Because my happiest moments were being single and open to whatever happened. I was free.

Right now, I don’t want to be a wife, or a fiancĂ©, or a girlfriend. I just want to have a few dates, eventually. I just want a handful of compliments and a few conversations a week. It’s easy, and it lacks decisions.