Sunshine.

He looked into my eyes like he loved me. I am such a fool to believe a guy like him could ever love a girl like me. At 5'5'' and pudgy I wasn't the homecoming queen or the most popular girl. He was all of that and more. What on the outside seemed like the perfect guy, his insides were full of mistakes, pride, stubbornness and a past that would later scream out and grab my heart strings, pulling them into knots of hurt and agony. But for this moment in time, for this very second, I overlooked that and stared at his angular jawline and masculine features thinking what a perfect creature God's very own hands sculpted. It's funny what a beautiful creature on the outside held back so much disillusion on the inside of his very soul. I did love him. In that moment in time. I held onto a love that would never last. A forbidden love because he was known to run. A cassanova that was not met for my hands to touch, to kiss, to make love. To make a baby that I held within my very stomach. A sweet little boy whose name would be Liam. He was safe in my stomach where the worlds hands would never be able to grasp the reality of the situation. Where he couldn't feel the web of lies that his mother was suffocating in. 

 

Life's a bitch and apparently so was I. Pregnancy was not easy for me. I am sure every woman has their own story but mine was a matter of protecting my sons life, and fighting for my own. I remember the magnesium drip, digging into my arm for four days. I remember the cathedar held up by a metal death contraption. I remember the pain of my first contraction when the doctors put the potassium into a place that you cant even imagine  But most of all I remember the 12 hours of pushing and screaming at the doctor to make sure my baby was safe and that I would do anything in the world to get the baby out of me. My husband stood by my side, his handsome face ashen.. and most of all, young. I held the baby in my arms. My beautiful son before they took him away from me. 

And all I remember is blood. Lots of blood. And pain.Stitch 1, stitch 20. I could feel them all. All 47. " She's bleeding out"."She might not make it her blood pressure is sky rocketing".He just stared at me. Not afraid for me. Not showing any emotion but a sadness deep in his brown eyes. 

My son was 5 ibs 12 oz. We both made it. My miracle, my everything. I was happy, but his brown eyes reflected a disappointment that made my stomach turn inside out. At first everything seemed normal, but two weeks after Liam came home from the hospital and was embraced into his new life, our future was torn apart. He ran. He ran far and he looked back, laughing at me.  Mimicking me with a lost future of a house and children. Ah, the American Dream was forever gone for me and my son. Life is a bitch.I am too.Because he wanted to give my son up for adoption. I refused, holding onto my three week old son for dear life. Never giving up my sweet miracle baby boy with a smile that could break your heart. He lived across the street for 6 months, harassing me, bringing up the painful memories that haunted my dreams and made me wake up crying at night. I couldn't sleep in my bed for at least a month. I would hold my son and fall asleep in the recliner, the memories were too painful.. The bed too empty, the pain in my broken bleeding heart too much to bear...It was 3AM. My newborn son was crying and I was crying with him. My tears touching his sweet smelling skin. I wanted a good life for my son. I knew I could do it. But how?How could I, a 21 year old girl with no job, no house and no car take care of a little tiny baby boy?My mom came out and took my hand. "You can make it. You lived for this. You lived for him."I looked at my son and kissed him on the cheek and held his small little fingers on my finger and rocked him to sleep, singing, "You are my sunshine, my only sunshine", while he happily sucked on a bottle of formula and breast milk.My mom once told me, through the storm clouds and rain the sun will always shine. While it rained for awhile. It poured down on Liam and I. There are moments where I hung my head and cried. Moments where I lifted my head high and kept going on. I found a job working in retail, graveyard shift. Lifting heavy items unloading trucks from 9PM-7AM. I would get home early in the morning and take care of my two month old son. Get an hour of sleep and go back to work

. We would make it. I don't care what I had to do, but I would not fail my son, or myself. I HAD to. I NEEDED to. For my son. For him. For me. For my family... Failure isn't an option when you want to succeed so badly.I fell. And then I picked myself up and carried on

.It wasn't easy.I ran out of the house handing Liam to my mom. I ran to the beach. My favorite spot to go and think about things on a bench next to the lake.. and I would cry. How could he leave us? He promised he wouldn't! The anger, the hate engulfed me. But mostly the disappointment for my son broke my heart in two. He deserved the best, to have a father. I know that there were kids out there that didn't have one and were just fine.. but would Liam be? My worries ping-ponged across my brain, sending tears to my eyes and painful sobs out of my mouth. I walked back to the house and held my son, knowing that God gave me him for a reason. And I wanted to embrace him, needed to. So I did.I wanted to prove the world wrong. And myself right. So I found a great job working with people who had disabilities a few months later, making good enough money for Liam and I to start a life. And so.. we moved out of my parents house, leaving my husband across the street and started a life in a little snow-white cottage with a beautiful yard for my 6 month old to play in.

 He was bouncy and happy and sweet, and most of all he as my sunshine that got me through the storm.


Yet it wasn't over yet.Court hearings, paperwork, more court hearings.The divorce papers came on my birthday.. It ripped my healing heart apart even more.. it just seemed to much more real now. A lawyer was called, a court hearing scheduled. And so the battle began. Luckily, I had information that proved to the court that my ex was not a good dad for Liam to be around. At least not yet. They agreed and hired a GAL. A GAL that wasn't paid for the state. So visitation with supervision was granted. And Liam had to see his father once a month every Sunday. It killed me to think of his father possibly hurting him. If he would try to commit suicide and was willing to hurt himself, what else would he do to someone else? The thought killed me. It was too much to bare.I would fight for my sunshine, regardless of the rainy clouds and dark days. 

Love Always,

Liams Mommy