Let me start off by saying this: I definitely did not plan on getting pregnant with Wesley. Two years ago around this time, I was married. I was a flight attendant for an airline and I shared a cute one-bedroom condo with my husband and my dog. I used to say to myself, “I did this right.”
When I was planning my wedding, I sat in my dining room and I typed our guest’s addresses on all of the envelopes with an old typewriter that weighed a million pounds. I was happy. It’s funny, though, how things can be just fine on the surface, but underneath that water lies a beast that’s ready, waiting, and eager to devour you whole.
So that’s what happened to me. To us. One morning, I found out that my husband was in fact, not only spending his time (putting it lightly) with other women, but he wasn’t remorseful (although for a time, he pretended that he was.) There I was, 25 years old, married and ready to start my life when instead, I took the ring off of my finger and I got the hell outta there. I won’t bore you with any more details of that. Being married to a sociopath left scars I didn’t even know I would have, but that’s for another time and place.
I was devastated. I had no job, because I had quit flying, thinking that if I was closer to home, him and I would be closer and our relationship wouldn’t fall apart completely. I had no car, because even though our one car was in my name, he needed it to go to work, and I let him. I had no apartment, because I couldn’t afford it on my own. The one thing I had always, always, always wished for in my life since I was little was this: True Love. Seriously! That’s what I wanted- to be swept off of my feet and to live my dream, and that’s exactly what I thought I was living. Nikos Kazantzakis said, “Once, I saw a bee drown in honey, and I understood.” That was me, that was exactly what I had done to myself. Now, I’ve always been a writer, so the best that I could do with this shit-storm I’d gotten myself into: write about it. So I did, here and there, and I coped with my pain.
Fast-forward. My ex and I split up, we filed divorce papers, we waited. I reconnected with someone that I knew, a mutual friend of my best friends, we’ll call him. I was lonely, sure, and being around him was easy. He made me laugh, he made me remember that not everything has to be so serious, and beyond that, I realized that I don’t always have to think of myself as some damaged, unlovable loser who can’t gain stability.
Then, we found out about Wesley.
My dad was in the hospital, having just suffered stroke and a heart-attack back to back. I was living with my best friend’s mom. I had a part-time job in retail because I couldn’t find anything else. Holy crap, how did this happen? Wise words from my mom- “If you don’t know how it happened, you need to go back to school.” (Thanks mom.)
Ok. Breathe. I’m going to have a baby? I’m divorced, I’m 26 now, college educated, qualified to go make my own living, yet still a little selfish brat. But yea, let’s do this. I’m going to have a baby.
We, specifically. And we did. And guess what?
I found true love.
All of the years that I spent agonizing over break-ups, all of the dramatic, dark, dismal poetry I penned because love just seemed to run in the opposite direction every time it heard my footsteps, every thought of worthlessness that I had, just disappeared.
Now, mom guilt, that’s another monster. I have that, coupled with anxiety about nearly every small and big thing alike, but this. This baby, this feeling, this love, I’ve never known anything to be so heavenly, so secure, and so real. (Wesley, you saved my life, little dude.)
So really, my point is this- maybe you’re not where you think you need to be in life. Maybe you had a lot and you lost it all. Maybe you never had anything worth calling home about. Maybe you’re not quite happy with things that are happening, and you think that there’s something missing. Maybe you’ve been wishing for something your entire life, and you haven’t found it yet. As for me, I found what I was looking for, but in an entirely different scenario than I would have pictured myself in two years ago. I kept going, because I had hope, and I’m incredibly grateful that I did. I’m a different person than I was, and honestly, I surprise myself every day, but that’s not a bad thing. I’m learning things about myself that I didn’t know I had in me. Best of all, I know what real love is, now.
Keep going. It’s worth it.