Forever Love And Protector.

I moved out when I was 17. 

My parents decided they'd buy a house far away in the mountains near Lake Tahoe.  At the time, I was a seventeen year old with a boyfriend and didn't think that would work. 

Looking back now I wonder why those parental's didn't grab that seventeen year old by her arm, and make her move.  

Life. 

Fast forward a year later, and she missed her period.

Deep deep down in her gut, she kinda knew what was happening.  

Scared, with morning sickness, she just knew. 

So she drove to their family doctor in Downey, with a confirmed pregnancy test, she sat in her little green Volkswagen staring at the piece of paper and sobbed.  

More fear, than accepting the unknown of "what would be".

She carried a small journal in to the doctors that day.  For notes.  For questions.  

As if those notes would guide me in the right direction of Motherhood. 

Motherhood is a beast.  And NO ONE can prepare you for its recipe. 

I would drive home.  

Calling my sister the minute I arrived.  She hung up on me.  (she later became obsessed with her nephew)

Then my parents. 

Both pretty unhappy with me. 

From that day forward, I promised myself. I promised my baby.  And I promised my family, I would try my very best at Motherhood. 

I can remember craving tamales (not the normal tamales with corn husks around them, I craved Xlint packaged chemical riddled, plastic wrapped ones) The only thing I really mastered in cooking was Kraft Mac n Cheese.  I'd eat the whole thing.   COVERED in pepper. 

The night I went into labor, I was eating El Pollo Loco and had to spit the last bite I took because the pain was kick ass oh-my-gerd, bad.  

We drove to the hospital at 10pm.  Birthed him at 5:30am.

The thing about giving birth, whether you're 19, or 39-- It's a miracle and pure euphoria.

He was mine, and I was his. 

Scared shitless the day we brought him home. I can remember staring at him on my bed and thinking...oh man.  Now what.

The car ride home being my first test of protection.  I swore someone was gonna side swipe the car. 

And stuffed in that little car seat looked like a potato bug to me, haha. - my little cherub. 

 Our love would deepen with every chapter we'd close and open.

We'd grow together in anything Mommy-Me. 

Swimming lessons.

Preschool (Tot-lot)

Sports (he hated)

I'd host his friends over for sleepovers, and little summer parties.

Just because.

He was my everything.

  

We'd navigate through elementary, middle school (tough years-yikes!), and high school.  I made a point to visit his counselors every single year, "just because".  I wanted them/him to know I cared, and I also wanted him to excel far and beyond what his "busy-body" would show.  

He was tested as "Intellectual" and "Gifted" in elementary, therefore, I always knew he was able.

It was putting the effort in, where I'd always need to remind. 

He'd do homework listening to super loud music in his room, and yet would kill it at tests'.

His mom is his biggest advocate. Figuratively, and literally.

He'd navigate a divorce, with a mom that packed his dad up one morning after he'd left for school, to never look back.  It was the healthiest choice for my home.  Kris was 10.

I'd do my best each morning, all day and every night to be a sufficient mom. To both. 

The first thing I wanted him to know, is I LOVED HIM. (Them)

We walked through long roads and chapters, growing together.

This last doozy sent me into a mindset like no other. 

This Mama Warrior took charge, and I never looked back. 

I love this boy.  

I love our relationship.

I love my choice to do my best. 

Even at times, I didn't know what I was doing. 

He's here.

His 1st Re-Birthday (picture makes me so emotional)

Through thick and thin, through sickness and health.  He's here.

And I am proud to be his mama.

Happy Valentines Day Bub. 

I am your biggest fan.  

I am who I am, because of you.

Love always, and far from perfect.

Mama 

This post is ALOT.  It's deep. It's me.  It's our story.  It's us.

The hard truth. 

My week of love notes.  

This is ours. 

Side note:  I still have that journal of notes I jotted down that day back in November of 1988.  I kept that journal and wrote to him often.  Having everyone whom attended his first birthday sign the last page.  HEART EYES