I model - lingerie, pinup, parts, promotional, drape, etc. I'm a mother. I'm also someone's wife. To say we are in love would be an understatement. Anyways, my blog will reflect what I love - music, politics, hobbies, funny shit, random shit, and yeah, life. Enjoy and send me love. <3
I am not my pain.
My story does not define me.
I am beautiful.
I am strong.
Every day is a new day, with new opportunities, and they are mine.
Today belongs to me, not my past, and not the people in it.
When I was in sixth grade, I ended up in the hospital for an ovarian cyst that ruptured abnormally. After hours in the hospital, a long MRI process, a lot of vomiting, and pain, the doctors came in and explained that my white blood cell count was excessively high, and that I had a massive cyst that ruptured and the fluid it leaked over my ovary would burn and scar my ovary. They told me that this would keep happening, and that there was nothing they could do, unless I wanted to have my ovaries taken out. They explained that with the damage that these cysts could do to my ovaries over time, I may never be able to become pregnant, and if I were to become pregnant, I wouldn’t be able to carry to full term, because I would more than likely be releasing faulty eggs to be fertilized, and that my ovulation cycles would be abnormal. They explained that my window of opportunity for a healthy pregnancy was very small, and my chances of a healthy pregnancy would decrease more rapidly than other women. I was devastated. I cried for a while..
I spent a few years being bitter about this, because I felt it was unfair, and knew I eventually wanted to have children. I decided i’d never even try for children. I didn’t want to be disappointed, and hate my body even more if I became pregnant, and lost the baby.
I tried birth controls to help my hormones, so that my periods would be normal, and my ovaries wouldn’t have abnormally sized cysts or cysts that ruptured abnormally. The birth controls made my hormones worse, and the cysts kept rupturing abnormally. I ended up in the hospital several more times. All the doctors could do was give me pain medicine, and keep me out of school for a few days to let me recover.
When I was fourteen, I met the man who would eventually become my husband. Nearly two years went by, and he proposed to me with permission from my mother. Shortly after, I realized I really wanted to try for a child. He understood my health problems, and agreed to try with me, and went into it knowing that there may have been some emotional pain involved in this process. I explained to him that I could miscarry, that we could have a still-birth, and that I may never actually be able to start a family with him. He agreed to support me, and to try not to get frustrated if my body didn’t co-operate with us. We prepared for the worst.
Three months of us “trying,” and I became pregnant. He was aware, and we were so excited! I was in public, with him and two friends, and two months along, when I lost our baby. The mental and physical pain was too much to handle. I became discouraged again, and told him I never wanted to try again, because my body was a disappointment to me.
We found out I was pregnant again. Again, we were extremely excited, but knew there was a chance that my body wouldn’t allow me to carry. Not even a month along, I lost my baby in school, and spent the next week on bed rest.
I thought I would never know what it was like to make a wonderful, happy life for a child of my own.
In March of 2010, I found out I was pregnant again. I was sure that I would lose my baby again, and braced myself for what was coming next. I waited two months to tell my fiance, because I was tired of putting him through unnecessary stress and pain, when it wasn’t his fault. During the third month, I got the courage to tell him I was carrying his child, and that I believed the baby would make it this time. We were overly-joyed, and our families were as well.
This is our beautiful miracle.
Daddy and son
Regardless of what the doctors told me, I was able to carry this amazing little boy to full term. My body has gotten worse post-pregnancy, and I don’t mind, because at least I get to have this awesome little guy! My journey has been worth it.
I am eighteen now. I had our son at sixteen. Yes, I finished high school (with a diploma, not a GED.) Yes, I have a job. Yes, his father does, as well. Yes, I’m going to college. Yes, we are married now. And yes, he is happy, healthy, and is actually extremely spoiled. :P No, we are not receiving food stamps, or any other type of government help. No, I am not ashamed of being a teenaged mother. And no, it’s not impossible to be a good parent when you are young, or succeed in life simply because you had a child.
If there are any young women or men that are about to face parenthood reading this, and you are being put down for it because it’s “too early,” I want you to know I was ridiculed too, and people didn’t understand. I was judged, glared at, talked about, and out-right rejected by most of the world I knew for my choice of wanting and keeping him at sixteen. I was told to abort him. I was told to give him away. I was told I was too young to love or care for him. You are not alone.
Keep a smile on your face, and focus on the fact that you will be meeting your best friend soon! There is nothing wrong with you being a parent. You are not stupid, you are not a terrible person, you are not what they say. Be a good parent, and ignore this judgmental world. They do not know all of the hard work and self-sacrifice it takes to love another human the way you will love your child! Be proud of your little bundle of joy! Take responsibility and stand up for your child’s future! Trust me, they will appreciate it! They will give you many kisses, hugs, and thank yous for it. Their smile will make even the hardest days feel better. They will be your light, I promise.
Have a fantastic day!
Some writers need a while to charge their batteries, and then write their books very rapidly. Some writers write a page or so every day, rain or shine. Some writers run out of steam, and need to do whatever it is they happen to do until they’re ready to write again.