Once upon a time 21 years ago I went into a very quick (6 hours) and painful labour. Painful because I would accept no pain killers, no epidural, no nothing. I wanted everything to be perfect for my baby. I was so very naive.
It was tough at first. I was only 22 and far away from my family. My husband was never home. He was either out working or out using. The only person I knew in the city was my sister in law. I didn’t have a car and didn’t know the bus system. And my poor baby cried. She cried and cried and cried. After I had done everything I could think of to soothe her I would lay her down in her crib and listen to her wail as I banged my head against the floor and sobbed. It’s kind of funny isn’t it, how 21 years later I am still doing the same thing (metaphorically speaking) and so is she…
After a few weeks and a visit from Gramma things calmed down. And got better. My husband was still never around and when he was all we did was fight about his using, but overall life improved. I had a wonderful baby girl who demanded all of my time and attention, so I didn’t have time to think about anything else.
H was a daredevil when she was growing. The crazy kid who rollerbladed down the stairs, was the youngest kid to jump off a certain cliff on the island where we vacationed, she sang on stage and acted in plays.
How did it happen? How did we go from “once upon a time and happily ever after” to “exit light, enter night, take my hand, we’re off to never never land”.
I’m praying for my daughter today, on her 21st birthday. I’m praying and hoping that she can find her happily ever after and the Sandman leaves her alone and stays far, far away.