My relationship and connection with my son Cruzier has been a rough one from the beginning. When I got pregnant with him, I was 18 and my daughter Ju-Ju Bean was almost one years old. I honestly had no clue that I was pregnant until I was three months along. Now, that may seem a little impossible to some but since I had had my daughter things had been a bit hard and I was very stressed out and I had just gotten on a new birth control shot that you get every three months. I wasn’t taking proper care of myself and was always focused on my daughter first and then my boyfriend, her father. I didn’t take the time to dress up, make makeup on, or relax. It was always about my daughter and how to fix things with my boyfriend so we could be a family. We were on and off again, with a lot of drama. As parents we should have had our lives more stable and figured out but we were young and in love with a lot of issues we both had with our own pasts. Part of the time since I had my daughter we were living with his mom, my mom, and then my daughter and I moved in with my birthmom and stepdad when we broke up. While my daughter and I were living with my birthmom, randomly I had started feeling like something was moving in my belly. I told my birthmom and we both thought it might be gas. Well it was about time for me to get my next birth control shot so I made an appointment to get it. And well, surprise surprise, I’m pregnant. Three months along to be exact. That thing I felt moving in my belly that I thought was gas? That was a baby. My baby.
My boyfriend and I didn’t agree on what we were going to do. Both of us wanted the baby but we had to be real and face the facts a bit. We had already been struggling so much financially with our daughter since I had her. Both of us had a lot of issues we needed to work on by ourselves and overcome in order to be the parent and person we needed to be for our daughter and for ourselves. We both couldn’t completely see how we could bring another child into the mix of everything. I wanted to keep the baby though. I couldn’t possibly see myself aborting my baby and I couldn’t see someone else raising my child. The whole pregnancy, I was told we had to give the baby up for adoption. That put a huge emotional and mental block on me. I wanted to keep this baby. I know we had had a rough time with providing for my daughter but this baby was mine and brought to me for a reason. But I knew we probably couldn’t keep the baby. When the baby would kick, hiccup, or move I would try to focus on something else instead of getting attached and all excited. To be honest, I was already starting to get a little attached by then but still was trying to block it all out.
Fast foward to when I was about 8 or a little more months along. It was obviously getting closer to when the baby was due. We were still arguing about giving the baby up for adoption and couldn’t agree. I didn’t want to give up my baby and I knew I couldn’t do it. I wanted whatever we do be both of our choices since it was our baby and I wanted us to be a family with our littles. I knew it would be hard but I also knew we would find a way to provide for our family and give our littles the best we could. Our families wanted us to give up the baby for adoption also. That was very hard to hear. But I kind of understood. They wanted the best for us and our littles and what was best in their eyes was not two young parents that kind of really rushed into things without really getting to know each other, couldn’t afford a child or even themselves, and weren’t stable yet. I totally get that. It was not the perfect situation and to be honest, I a little secretly agreed and thought we really should have waited. But things happen and they happen for a reason. I knew we should have waited and things should have been different. I should have been able to hold a steady job, waited to have sex and/or used protection, and focused more on my future with graduating and college.
Deep down in my heart I knew I couldn’t give up my baby and live with myself for doing that. So I was secretly starting to get a little bit of stuff ready for the baby. But then things started kind of getting a little more real. I seen my mom struggle as a single mom growing up. Living paycheck to paycheck, being low on food, and struggling to pay bills. Not be around as often because of always having to work just to meet the bills. I thought it wasn’t going to last with my boyfriend. We were constantly on and off again and arguing. Both of us still needed to grow up ourselves. So my mom and I decided to meet with an adoption agency. We got the profiles of some of the potential families and I found one family I really liked. The wife was a teacher and the husband was a firefighter. They would be able to provide for my baby and give it everything it needed and wanted. So we needed to meet with the adoption agency again and also my boyfriend to get his concent to move forward with the adoption. But then he changed his mind. He didn’t want to give the baby up. He wanted to keep it. So for almost 9 months now, I’ve made sure I haven’t completely made a connection or attachment with my baby in my belly because I wasn’t sure if we could keep it or not and was told we couldn’t. And now all the sudden, about two weeks before my due date, when I am now in preterm labor, we are keeping the baby.
Once I had my son, it was instantly hard for me. He didn’t feel like my baby. Yes, I know I just gave birth to him and pushed his tiny body out of my body but when I held him, it felt like he was someone else’s. When he cried after they gave him back to me when I was all stiched back up and in the recovery room, I looked around the room to try and find the parents. Of course, there wasn’t any parents there to take him because he was mine. But it didn’t feel like it.
I tried to be a good mom to him, I really did. With my daughter, I used to laugh all the time with her, dance around with her, and read her books. We would giggle together, lay together watching tv, and play on the floor with all her toys. With my son, I didn’t do much of that with him. I would still make sure he was fed, changed, and he would get the sleep he needed. But I never held him just because. Or read him books. Or cuddled with him. He still didn’t feel like mine. I would play with Ju-Ju Bean when I wasn’t working and Cruzier would obviously be with us sitting in my lap or laying on his play mat or in his bouncer so he would be there when I was playing with her and he would smile and laugh at us. But my attention wasn’t really on him. It was on my daughter. I had a connection with her since she had been in my belly and had a very strong attachment to her. It just wasn’t the same.
When my son was 9 months old we moved again but this time it was just us three. Their father and I had had stuff happen between us and I decided to move away with my littles to the town my three older sisters were living. My son all the sudden got very colicky. I would always make sure he was fed, changed, and got the sleep he needed. I would try to hold him, cuddle him, and play with him. I actually really tried. It didn’t help. He would still cry and cry and cry. The only time he wouldn’t cry was when he was eating or sleeping. We’d go to the doctors all the time because I thought there was something wrong. He wouldn’t stop crying. That’s when they told me that he was colicky and some things to try and help which some of them did start to. I was getting better with him but still felt like he wasn’t my son. I started to feel like something was wrong with me. After going to the doctor’s for a regular appointment for myself with my littles, my doctor noticed the way I was with my son and started talking to me about postpartum depression. She believed I had it and after her explaining it to me, I knew I did. She got me some help which I am very grateful for. I started getting more of a bond with my son and doing way better with him.
Fast foward to now: my son Cruzier is now almost 8 years old and I am 27 years young. Now for the past about 4-5 years, most things have been stable. We are in a stable home, I have gotten a lot of help for myself and littles, and we are in a good place in life. I am holding down a steady job that I love. Their father and I have worked things out and are dating. He is living with us again permanently. Both of our littles are in therapy still to help them through anything and everything. I am still in therapy. We are going to church every Sunday, youth group on Thursdays, and a Bible Life Group for me on Wednesdays. Things are going very good. Cruzier and I have really gotten our bond back and a connection. We have an attachment and he is always my son. He’s my main little man in my life. Although he’s always going to be my little baby in my eyes, he has grown so much into such a amazing intelligent strong young man. I love him with all my heart. I may have not been the best mom that I needed to be for him until I got some help from my doctor, but I always wanted him and loved hin very much. Love you Cruzier.