I remember when I was younger. Not even younger, but I was still partying and not doing anything with my life. I think around 25 I stopped doing all that. Anyway, I laughed at girls I went to highschool with that got pregnant. I thought “this bitch just ruined her life for good”

Little did I know they were experiencing the most precious gift anyone could receive. I never said these thoughts out loud, but I just imagined how miserable their lives would be, but low and behold it was I who was the miserable one. No consistency in life, no unconditional love, the kind a child feels for its mother and vice versa. I literally thought random hook ups and drinking every night was better than that of stability and a family. I sure did learn my lesson.

Once Preston came into my life, nobody mattered. I loved my family and friends the same and it was beautiful watching the way they loved him. Even coworkers had so much love for him and they only met him once or twice. I was truly blessed the day he came into my life. It doesn’t matter who his dad was, or how he was conceived, or anything along those lines. He was a blessing.

I waited until I was 28 years old, financially stable and prepared to have a baby and I was excited and ready for my little boy. When Preston was here nothing mattered anymore; the daddy issues, finding someone to love me, the bars, the body issues, the drinking every night. It was all about him; providing for him, our future, his future, everything. They say you don’t know what you have until it’s gone, but I knew what I had when I had it. I loved being a mother, didn’t take it for granted and looked forward to the memories, days, and experiences the both of us would share until I was old and on my dying bed. 

Just some food for thought.