Yesterday was my son’s 12th birthday. I get confused sometimes about his age because if you’re a frequent blog reader, you’d know my kids are 20 months (TO THE DAY) apart. This the part of the year when Gabby and Owen are only one year apart in theory. The reason I wanted to talk about Owen today was because he almost didn’t exist.
That’s right folks, when my lovely ex-husband (damn it feels good to say that) and I discussed my pregnancy his first suggestion was the “A” word. I am pro-choice through and through and would never consider the “A” word as an option. I/him made the baby together, its an “us,” and there’s no way in hell I was letting any piece of me die inside of me. I guess you could consider me selfish.
With all of the other financial issues his birth would complicate, I stuck by my baby boy. I followed the doctors and nurses orders to a T. I was there for every appointment up until and including the 2006 Ivan flood scare.
After Owen was born and taken home, I learned that my MIL (“the General” or so she thinks) was upset that I didn’t immediately allow her to hold him the hospital. What people don’t understand is how sick I was after the birth. I had to have 3 blood transfusions. The room was spinning and I felt like ralphing my guts up. Every time a new visitor stopped by, they automatically picked up the baby without asking. I don’t understand why his mother thinks she needed an invite, pick up the kid, FFS. What are we, 5 years old playing “Mother May I?” She further got pissed that we didn’t automatically invite her over to gush over Owen. Um hi, my insides were just ripped open two days ago? Remember? Since we lived in a split level home, bathroom trips were either upstairs or downstairs (pick your poison) both equally painful to climb. And then you have this bitch who wants to come over for show and tell when we still have a messy house, Gabby the precarious toddler, and a lawn that needs cut.
Ummmm no.
I call the shots from now on, Grandma.
We setup a date and time when she and everyone else from Rich’s family could visit which would be least invasive.
Here’s what he looked like as a gummy fish swimming in my womb.
Here’s what he looks like today.
Every time I look at this face, I am reminded of what might have been if I had listened to my dumbass ex-husband’s words of encouragement.
“Get an abortion”
I’d be sitting here an empty shell of a human. Although, I feel like it anyway because I missed his awards ceremony as well as his birthday due to King Dickhead.
I chose life and will continue to do so every time.
Thank heaven for little boys.
