I was twenty-two years old, when I found myself sitting on the bathroom floor at my mom’s house with eight positive pregnancy tests surrounding me scattered on the floor. To say I was in denial is an understatement. My mind was so focused on the outcome…a human life I didn’t even begin to consider the physical toll my journey through pregnancy would end up taking on my body.. not to mention my mind .. and most importantly my heart.. I cried a lot during my pregnancy, as most women do. I worried about whether or not my sadness was making my baby sad.. I sat there many of nights horrified on the plethora of “what to expect while you’re expecting sites.”
Week 20! Oh shit I felt her move! Can she feel me? Can she feel when I’m sad or hungry or angry (at her daddy)? Does she know that when she comes out here I’m going to need her as much as she needs me?
That little person growing inside of me would be my reason for living every day after she arrived. She would be the reason I would finally understand the depths of unconditional love. I would never again know how emptiness felt. My daughter completes me and makes me feel whole. She gave me a happiness that can never be taken away and for that I am forever grateful. When she’s old enough to understand, I will thank her and let her know that she’s the reason mommy knows that miracles really do exist.