Father that word holds so many emotions for me.
Happy: I had the greatest father. He was always around, worked hard to give me a good life. Always there when I needed anything whether it was a shoulder to cry on, a father figure for my son. He also showed me what a good parent is supposed to be. Kind, gentle, even strict when the time was needed. He was definitely a rock in my eyes, the way a father should be to their daughter.
Sadness: I’ve had friends that were sexual and physically abused by their father. The man in their life that should be the pillar of how a man is supposed to treat them, their first male role model in life. That has damaged them beyond repair in some cases. Ending in being the wrong interpretation of men in these young girls eyes.
Confusion: I’ve seen fathers walk away from their own child like they don’t matter at all. They created this life and it’s a lifetime commitment. Not to throw away that bond that a child can only get from their father.
Excitement: I get to be the father in my sons lives. I have participated as my oldest son has turned into a young man. I get to be the one to guide him through the sex talk, the girls in general talk, the talk about drugs. I am also the one that got to teach him to shave just a few months ago.
Disappointment: My sons will never have that connection with their fathers the way I did with mine.
Hope: I only hope in this single parenting thing I have is that I teach my sons that their children is a gift from God, Not to be abused or ignored, walked away from. But to be treasured and to cherish every moment they have with their own children. To build a bond with them that no one can ever break because that is what I had with my dad.
Power, it can be the strongest thing there is.
There are different types of power.
A president hs power over a country.
A boss has power over their employees.
An abuser has power over their victim.
A mother has power over her children.
I used to be victim, powered by my husband. I finally escaped that power to then be powered by my mother. She thinks as my mother,she has the right to tell me how to raise my kids. To criticize everything I do as an adult.
The first was easier to get out of. The latter I am still working on. I am learning to block it out and do what I want anyways.
So finally I have power over my own life.
Six months or so ago, I was spiraling downward into a state of mind where I thought there was nothing life had for me other than my boys. My family and I talk but there has been a strain on our relationships since my dad passed away. I felt like I had no one to turn to and just be myself. I work third shift, so it makes it even harder to find people to talk to and making friends with. I pride myself being an upbeat person, always finding the good in everyone. Never one to speak my mind. Just bottle it all up.
At this time I started liking and following a few pages. I finally started commenting on their pages. Through their life, I started talking about mine. They became my friends, without them even really knowing how much so. I don’t really know how it happened but I grew to love a lot of these people. Even thought of some as family. Through this pages I have made some awesome relationships. There is a punk that later became king, That has become a very dear friend. I think of him as my adopted son. There is a Brain that has become like my little sister. I have met a star trek nerd that has become a very dear friend and a honey badger that has inspired me that no mater what life throws at you, be strong and it will be alright.
Since then I have started my own page. Through this page, I have made even more people who I cherish with all my heart. I have met a mom of twins with autism. I have met another mom that is found joy in motherhood. I have met someone with just a shot of common sence. These ladies have become very dear friends that I love sharing my life with.
I have heard the old statement, that social media is not for real relationships. But I am here to tell you it is. Some of the greatest people I know and love that I have never met but they are in this screen everyday. They are my friends. They are my family. I love you all dearly. Thanks for being here, when I needed a friend..
I was told after I was shot in the stomach, I should never try to get pregnant again. The Dr. said that if I did the baby or myself probably would not survive. What went through my head was, I could not have one child become motherless to try for another child. I was content with one son.
When I first missed my period, I freaked. I went out and bought 5 home pregnancy tests. All came back positive. Still went to dr. next day. Yes, I was indeed pregnant. I was currently on blood thinner so it wouldn’t affect the baby I had to start shots in my stomach, twice a day. That I gave myself. My dr. recommended I go to high risk dr. at the best hospital in NC. So for the next 9 months I was told that a c-section was the last option. We wanted a vaginal birth. I had ultra sounds every two weeks. Which I was told there was a lot of scar tissue. They thought he had bi-lateral club feet and they found a hole in his heart.
The whole time, they told me that if a c-section was had to be. I would have a general surgeon as well as my ob. in there. It would be complicated because of the scar tissue. They was not sure what they would get into.
Two days after I was due, I was at the hospital to have this balloon thing done to see if it would help contractions become stronger and more effective. When this dr. I hadn’t met told me, that he was doing a c-section and he didn’t need any other dr.in there. He knew everything to do. A cocky little butthole is what he was. So of course I freaked out. I wanted to leave, after debating with the assistant dr. and my mother. I left, two days later I was at the Dr. office and one of my regulars apologized and they scheduled a c-section for next day. I was a nervous wreck, but there was two dr. my ob and a general surgeon Two anaesthesia and an assistant dr. As well as three nurses. I was still a wreck.
I was given a epidural and a spinal block. In case it took more than an hour, the spinal block would pick up when the epidural wore off. They cut me at 9:45 am and they were pulling monkey out at 10;17am. It was not at all what they were expecting. they tied my tubes and I was in recovery holding my 9 lb 11 oz baby by 10:45.
He was born with bi-lateral club feet. which they started taking care of when he was a week old and the hole in his heart closed by the time he was a month old. Now I have a very healthy, happy little guy to make our family complete.
There is a lot of areas in my life I am satisfied with.
One of them is being a mom. I have always tried to put my kids first. Been their everything in life. A mom, friend, punishier and teacher. I always believed to be a parent you have to be their friend. So they know they can trust you to always have their back. A punishier because sometimes time outs, and yes spankings are involved in any parenting role. Teacher, to teach them right from wrong. To always be kind even when sometimes you have to walk away to be the kindest. To be individuals, never forget they are different from every other person in this world but its okay.
I am satisfied in my love life. Sometimes its just better to be alone than deal with relationships. No cheating and lying. No arguing, or fighting over the little things in life. My heart is full in the way of love for my kids. When they grow up, I can be an awesome grandma and I will always have my fur-babies to keep me company..
In my career, I am pretty much satisfied. I make good money. I am the boss to 5 people, which means I get to delegate. That is awesome… Would I be happier? Of course but I am satisfied enough for now.
The only place in my life I feel unsatisfied is in friendships. I have always been a closed type person. I can talk about other people all day long. But to honestly open up about myself. It is hard for me. I don’t like to be criticized or ridiculed. I have suffered from depression. Still fight it everyday. What keeps it at bay is my boys. Where would they be without me? Every time I think I have found a true friend, It seems to be not so. I have had a lot of hardships in my life. With the help of no one I have got through them.
So in conclusion, be a true friend to someone. It could help them more than you know…
My Dad was the greatest man any girl could ask for in a father. He was a hard worker. Sole provider for our family until I was 13 years old. When I was little he would work and come home at 5:30, eat supper. Watch the news and off to bed he would go. He would have a get up and be back at work at 1 am. That was the life of a dairy farmer. He was a very quiet man. Never had a bad thing to say about anyone. I remember when I was real little like around 5 or so. I would go lay down with him. Just to spend some extra time with him. I would throw my foot on his belly and tell him to tickle feet. He had one day off every week Saturday. He was content sitting and watching a movie with his family than going out and doing anything else.
In all honesty, I really didn’t know my dad. I knew he loved me. I knew he would lay his life down for any of his kids or my mom. But on a personal side, I didn’t really know him. He was a very hard headed man. Yes, that is one of the many things I inherited from him. I also got his kind heartedness, his strength, his love of family, his work ethics. But most of all I got his quietness.
In November of 2009, He started getting sick. The drs. thought it was always pneumonia. Which it was, whenever they did xrays there was always a cloud of pneumonia over the real reason he kept getting sick. For three months we would beg him to go back for more tests when the medicine cleared up the pneumonia. But being a hard headed man. he would wait until he got down again before he would go back. In March of 2010. He had went back again. My mom called me to tell me they were sending him to the hospital for surgery. They opened him up to Scrap out the pnemonia and just have a look see. What they found was stage 4 cancer. It was in his chest cavity, in his lungs. They sent him home in April with 3 months to live.
He lived for 9 months. I wouldn’t trade that time for anything in this world. I worked 40 hours a week and spent as much time with him as I could. In July I found out I was pregnant with Monkey. He was still in his right mind at this time For medical reasons I shouldn’t have gotten pregnant. Another story there. But after every other family member gripping at me. My dad told me that it was meant to be and he would always pray and wish for my baby and I to pull through and give him another grandchild. He was a lot weaker by this time. being on oxygen. He couldn’t stand for very long without getting winded and weak. I would shave my dad three times a week. Every afternoon I would get home from work and just spend time with him. That summer I learned alot about my dad. I heard about his childhood. Being the oldest boy in a family of seven kids. He had it rough. How he moved from the mountains of Virginia when he was in 8th grade to a big city in Maryland. Why he quit school in 8th grade because he was picked on about being a hillbilly. How him and my mom fell in love and had us kids.
Christmas that year was when it all turned for the worst. We all spent that day blessed to have our dad there and doing real good considering all the pain he was in. My dad quit eating after that day. He stopped drinking about a week later. I asked hospice why they couldn’t do a feeding tube or IV to give him at least some nourshment. They told me it was what happens when the time has come. By the next week my dad, didn’t even remember having us kids. He remembered my mom. But that was about it. It was hard but I set by his bed everyday. the next week he slipped into a coma. Hospice didn’t understand what was holding him back. Even in a coma, we could tell he was in pain. The cancer was leaving places on his body. Where it was eating him up. Finally the hospice nurse told us to talk with him and tell him it was alright to leave and that we would be alright. When it was my turn. I couldn’t hardly get it out. It took all I had in me to tell my dad. It was alright to leave me. Because deep down I did need him. My 10 year old son needed him and the baby still not born needed him. I did though because I hated seeing my strong, independant, hard man being reduced to this state.. The next morning, I was at work when my sister called me and hospice said that this would be the day. I was sitting beside my dad, holding his hand when he took his last breathe. That was January 14th 2011. The day I lost my dad. RIP Dad. You are missed everyday!!
I never considered myself a runner.
When I was in my early adult years. I would stand and fight against anything I believed in. In high school if someone was being bullied I wouldn’t hesitate to jump in. My best friend was being physically abused by her husband. I jumped between them plenty of times. I was always raised to do the right thing. I never had to throw a punch or even really say a word because as most bulling. I was not the victim so the bully would always back down.
But as I moved on in life to my own sorta hell. I became the victim. What happened to that girl who never backed down. Well she got lost. Becoming a mother, I decided it was better to run and hide instead of fight.
When my childs life came in danger. I ran and I hid at a friends house. Until I got the courage to stand on my own two feet and never run again.
Now I am a mother to two children and I am back to my never run again ways. I want to instill in my boys that they don’t only not become the bully. Never back down when someone else needs them to stand up and fight for them