Another Trimester later

My first pregnancy was a hard one.. There constantly seemed to be something going wrong. From Pre-eclampsia to Gestational Diabetes, a Heart murmur, and a breached over-sized baby. Not to mention his father's "stress" leading him into a drug problem, and leaving me as a 17 year old child getting ready to raise a child myself. Once I got a hang on the single mom thing I was happy as ever, and unstoppable.. But I vowed to myself in the middle of my cesarean section to make sure I was married before having any more children.

In January I met my significant other. He was everything I wanted. He had a child of his own, a career, and seemingly a good life. We were fast in love, and with each other as much as humanly possible. In June he asked me to move in with him. I was a little reluctant at first, but I had told him before that I refused to marry anyone whom I had never lived with.. Most of my values are that of the old fashioned, but I firmly believe that you don't truly know someone until you live with them and I refuse to stand before God and vow to love someone for better or for worse that I don't truly know! So, I decided to move in and set the moving date for August 1st.

In the beginning of July, I received an unexpected surprise.. After 10 trips to the drugstore, and 100 bucks worth of pregnancy tests, it was confirmed.. I was pregnant again.

I prayed and prayed and prayed day in and day out. I felt guilty because I didn't want to let myself love this child. I didn't want another one yet. The timing was bad, I was still not married, and I hadn't even moved in with Wil yet. Wil wasn't too happy about it either at first. He had a 15 year old daughter, and he was (is) still legally married to his second wife.

I scheduled a doctor's appointment, and to my amazement, we were already able to hear the baby's heartbeat. I was already almost 13 weeks pregnant. I felt myself fall in love with my child at that very moment.. This was a gift from God and I was called to love and care for this child just like I had with my first son.
The idea of having another child was growing on Wil too. He was starting to get excited and we were talking about getting married. He chose names for the baby. If it was a girl, she would be named Isabella America Herrera. If it were a boy, he would be named Wilson (Wil-Son) Christian Herrera. (I flinched at first, but the name grew on me). Things were seeming to fall into place. I was quickly into my second trimester, and I was ready to tell the world.

On August 1st, I went to the doctor after some minor bleeding, and he performed an ultrasound.. Excpet this time There was no flicker in the chest. The baby that I had grown so attached to no longer had a heartbeat. I was looking at my dead child inside of my womb on the ultrasound screen.. I nearly threw up on the patient bed and broke down right then and there. Dr. V's face was blank. He had delivered my last baby, and grew to be somewhat of a professional friend. The ultrasound left a screen shot of my child and I just stared at it hysterically balling my eyes out. I knew something was wrong, but thought maybe bed rest was in order.. I wasn't expecting to go home that day with an empty womb or an empty heart, but after a 5 minute procedure, I had my closest friend pick me up and I went home- totally blank and empty.. That night I had grandma watch Trent and I went home to think about what had happened.

The following weeks (which turned into months) were very difficult. I was dreaming about my unborn child and I couldn't stand the fact that Wil did not understand what I was going through. I was mad that he wasn't hurting the way I was. He said it hadn't phased him. How can you not grieve over the loss of a child? Born or unborn, it is still a life that you created.. How can you not miss the sound of the heartbeat that you created? How can you not envision what should have been? And worse of all, how could I be criticized or looked down on because I was so attached to an unborn child? It was still my baby. My baby with a heartbeat. With hands, feet, a nose, mouth, and ears. It was the baby that I made out of pure love. My baby that was taken from me in a cruel turn of fate, leaving my womb empty and my heart heavier than ever.

It has been 3 and a half months since I had the miscarriage and it is still a struggle every day. I find myself resenting pregnant women and crying at the sight of a newborn child. I pray to God every day that one day I will heal from this. I pray that I will no longer envy the successful pregnancies of other women, and birth of their children. I struggle with the fact that I was more capable of accepting the gift from God with faith that it was a part of his plan But somehow my faith has vanished with this incident. My prayer is that I can one day truly believe in my heart that it was part of his plan. I terrorize myself thinking that it was somehow a punishment. I write to my child everyday, but it is still hard to face the truth..

I pretend that this no longer affects or hurts my heart.. I pretend like I don't think about it.. Why? Because it has turned me into a miserable person and when it really shows, it makes others miserable around me. I don't know how long it will be until the pain subsides, but I do know that as much as I hate to hold in these feelings, it is what I have to do.. To be a good mother and a good partner. To make sure that I don't upset Wil with a child who is no longer a part of him and in his eyes shouldn't affect me either.. I beg for it to go away. today I would have been 9 weeks away from delivering little baby Herrera.... And to know that it isn't so hurts more than anything in this world.

Butterfly Kisses

Earlier today I received an unexpected phone call from someone I don't know. Naturally, I am sure you are thinking that there was a mistake while the other party was dialing the phone number, or it could have been one of those annoying telemarketers that somehow managed to land my personal cell phone number. After all, I thought the same thing.

As I answered the phone, there was nothing but silence on the other end. "Hello?" .... .... "Okay, I'm hanging up now!". I hung up the phone and didn't think about it again. About an hour later, I received yet another phone call from the same telephone number. I answered the phone again and my greeting was followed by a raspy male voice I had never heard before "Umm Hi, Is this Missy?" I was a bit startled by this. Only members of my extremely close-knit family had ever referred to me as 'Missy'. "Ehh... This is Melissa" I responded. After no response from the other party, I interrupted the brief yet very awkward silence "I'm sorry, but I am not sure with whom I'm speaking to.. Who are you looking for?" Suddenly the man on the other end started clearing his throat and seemed a little hesitated, but he still had no response. I had no idea what to say. At this point, I had no idea who I was talking to, why they called, or if they even had the correct number. Suddenly I received an explanation. "Missy, this is your dad, Billy"..

A million things were going through my mind. As he tried to justify the past 2 decades of his absence, I could do nothing but retrace my steps and relive my life through instantaneous flashbacks. I was born into a family of my twin brothers who were 2 years older than me (also Billy's children), my mother, and my mother's friends who lived with us. My mom worked 2 full time jobs to provide for us and keep up with the financial demands of raisinghousehold with 3 small children. One of her friends' hit a rough patch, so my mother gave her a room and a fair exchange of free room and board for childcare. It was our version of being poor with the benefits of a nanny.

When I was 4, my mom started dating a businessman with his own office, who seemed so large and so powerful to me. His name was Eddie, and he had no idea what he was getting himself into! My brothers always had serious behavioral issues, and I was very spoiled. I was the baby and the girl, so when he mentioned chores by the time I was seven, he was in for an earful of whining and crying and hatred. One of my brothers was in a near fatal pedestrian vs. Harley Davidson collision when he was 13, and barely survived, seemingly cheating death several times while in the ICU for several months. By the time my brother was home, wheelchair bound for the next year, our family seemed to get larger by the minute. By this point, I had two baby sisters born within two years of each other. We moved to a new county, my mother had a new job and the fancy title she worked for her entire life, and all together, a new beginning (Not including of course the million dollars in medical bills she was facing). The years went by, my brother survived, and both of them turned into the rowdy and obnoxious teenagers that the teachers would have paid to drop out of school had there been no legal consequences for doing so. I on the other hand was the smart one. I was the one that was that had the capability of making my dreams of becoming a surgeon into more than just a dream. But, I still chose to be a teenager. I cut class, stayed out past curfew with my first love, and ended up pregnant at 17. By this time I had a full time job, and an apartment of my own. I was the last of the teenagers to move out on my own. Now I have had my ups and downs. I made mistakes and needed pick-me-ups all along the way.

A lot has changed over the years, but the one thing that has always remained the same is my love for the people in my life. My brothers have veered off into their own worlds for now, but my family has remained my rock and the one place that I will always be welcomed with open arms and ears by my mom and Ed and my two sisters who love me unconditionally.

As I drifted back into whatever Billy was saying, I had to stop him. "Bill, I am not a little girl anymore. I am not a baby, and I do not need to be raised. Someone has already done that job for you. Thank you for your call, but I am doing well for myself. I am not sure where you got my contact information, but please do not contact me again. The most I can do is pray for you. Eddie is a great man and I was safe in his arms and guided all along the way by him. He may not be in my blood, but he is my father." I hung up the phone and never heard from him again.

This conversation hung heavy on my heart for a few minutes. A few minutes passed and my thoughts quickly transferred over to the man that had cared for me for all of these years. The one man who was always there for me, and no matter how much I pushed him away, he loved me every day with his whole heart.

So what is a father? To me, a father is a girl's first love. A father is the man who leads you through life punishing you when you need to be punished and admiring all the good in you. A father has nothing to do with what is running through your veins, but only what is in your heart. A father is a gift from God and many times does not come with the same last name. He is the one you picture yourself dancing with while "Butterfly Kisses" plays in the background. He is my Eddie, and he can never be replaced.

Cool Mood

Being a resident of South Florida, it is an understatement to say that I complain of the heat on a regular basis. I have always enjoyed the cool weather and being able to unveil a new pair of boots that have awaited the lows of sixty degrees for the entire year. There is truly something to be said on the effects of cooler weather for anyone who lives in such a hot and humid state.

Friday I spent the day at the pool with my son; knowing of course that even a dive into the cold water was not going to seize the consistent heat that I for one cannot stand. Saturday, I woke up to a beautiful day and a night filled with perfect weather. So perfect in fact that I could not resist the great outdoors and was awake for a vast majority of the night soaking it up. Today is Sunday, and it is absolutely beautiful out. I got to take out some of my winter attire and spend all day basking in the glory of all creations under God.

Nothing in my personal life has changed over night, but my mood is instantly enhanced by the break from the heat followed instantly by songs of holiday cheer and the immediate feeling of becoming closer to God through simply being able to enjoy all that He has made for us and knowing that the season of love and appreciation is fast approaching. So right now I am heading outside to tidy up our courtyard and enjoy a nice game of basketball with my son who also feels the effects of the old air , causing him to release many giggles simply because the cool chill of the winds brush lightly across his nose and cheeks. My day has been filled with hugs, Eskimo kisses, and many smiles all because of the swift change of the weather that God blesses us with toward the end of the year.

Weighing it Out

My boyfriend and I started a low-carb diet together about a month ago. He is very weight conscience (although he has a GREAT physique) and complains more about his body than every Jenny Craig member in the U.S combined! We were both doing good and following the plan. This past Monday, he tells me how he sees the difference in my weight (which curbed my craving for some pasta for at least the rest of the day). The very next day, he comes home and refuses to eat dinner. While "working hard" [hardly working] all day, he stumbled upon a website that suggested alternate day fasting to reap outstanding health benefits- And it didn't hurt that the man who wrote it used it as a way to lose an enormous amount of weight quickly.

Now, is it possible that my boyfriend could be somehow competing with me? I think it is not only possible, but probable. Each and every time he compliments me, he has to turn around and try to one-up me! "Honey, you look great in that outfit" quickly becomes a changing frenzy for him until he finally finds something that doesn't make him scream "FAT BASTARD!" at the mirror. "Honey, breakfast was amazing" turns into him making himself breakfast the following morning and waking me up with a big "Hey babe, you want to taste the perfect scrambled eggs? And you should have done this with the bacon you cooked yesterday!". Now, after working so hard at this diet, I am confronted with him needing to become half of my size to make himself happy? You have got to be kidding me!! Can't I basque in my glory for even a minute? Or has a compliment become an official invitation to eat dust in a vicious competition of man vs. woman? For now I am sure that nothing is going to curb this desire for a man to win, but what greater response is there than to kick butt in everything we do?

Dig Deeper

I sit and wonder how
My life is going to be.
Will I ever learn?
Will I ever see?
Why can't we accept
A person as they are?
Reach inside of you
Deep down you are a star.
We all need to learn
How to appreciate.
We all need to show
Love instead of hate.
We should all strive to be
The best that we can be
A citizen full of pride
With no feelings to hide.
Stick up for yourself
And what you believe
Let your heart go
And set your soul free..

KIDS Are Like a Box of Chocolates...

I have been a single mother since the day my son, Trent, was born. Each and every stage claimed to be the most challenging, but I soon realized that staying up all hours of the night with a crying infant was... Well, those were the good days.

By the time Trent reached his first birthday, I thought I was in for an easy ride.. He was walking and beginning to talk. I thought my life had just become a whole lot easier.. I mean after all, I had carried around an extra twenty pounds that entire year, and the legs on that weight had learned how to walk. No one ever told me that when they start walking, they also start getting into things, ripping apart your Tupperware cabinets, taking all of your clothes out of your drawers and ripping down every nice blouse you own straight from it's hanger leaving a Cheetos stained hand-print on your favorite blouse right next to the big wet mark where they took a sip of their fruit punch and then shoved it into their mouth and began to gnaw at it with red stained drool seeping into the beautiful fabric.

Age two brought with it many pleasures, but with each one, there seemed to be a coinciding challenge that came with it. Trent had finally laid off of eating my silky blouses. All of his teeth were in and he no longer needed that very expensive teething cloth that mommy had kept hidden away nicely on an hanger in her closet. He was also potty trained! No more diapers? Woo hoo, now I'm going to have it easy! After two weeks of not having an accident, I decided it was time to celebrate. I called my closest friend Stacee, and told her to load up her baby (who is one year younger than Trent) and meet us at Friendly's in an hour and a half. Once Trent was dressed, I popped Barney into the DVD player and hopped into the shower. I remember getting out of the shower and searching through my entire bathroom at least three times looking for my make up bag. After 10 minutes of M.I.A makeup madness, I walked into the play room to check on Trent, only to find that he was not actually watching Barney. Instead, he took my makeup bag from my bathroom, brought it into his, and was repeatedly applying lipstick and mascara to his entire face, and I instantly yelped a dreadful "Nooooo!!", which spooked him and caused him to stab himself in the eye with the mascara. Thirty minutes later, he had stopped crying about is eye, and was finally clean. I threw on a sundress, forgot about the makeup, and sped off to Friendly's where Stacee had been waiting for nearly an hour. By the time our food was ready, Trent and I had already made five trips to the potty (without actually using it). This continued through the entire dinner which I finally just got a To-GO container for. That night as I was laying in my bed, I reflected back on that day and laughed in exhaustion. What I did not realize was that this was going to be my every day life for at least the next year.

Trent just recently turned three, and now has a male role model in his life. He has learned a lot for such a tender age but I think I have learned even more in the past three years. I think it is safe to say that being a mother is not only the hardest job in the world, but the most surprising. With each age, it truly is (as Forrest would have said), "Like a box of chocolates.. You NEVER know what you're gonna get".. So now I am just waiting for that next flavorless surprise that no mom has ever dared to tell another mother about their children at age three. Bring it on!