Family

For a very, very long time, I never wanted children. It's hard to believe that I once felt this way, considering how strongly I feel about wanting children now - or one living, healthy child.

I've been thinking about why I did this U-turn and what might have influenced me to feel so adamantly about not wanting to be a mother. Was my first marrriage really that unhealthy that deep down I knew I didn't want my ex-husband to be the father to my child(ren)? Did my own disjointed and dysfunctional childhood lead me to believe that I would fall short as a parent since I had no solid role models to follow? Or, did I change my mind because of my biological clock, knowing I had a limited amount of time to make it happen?

I guess all of those reasons are partly true. The biggest reason I want my own family is to have what I've never had: Love.

I've never had a mother-daughter relationship with my mother - ever. In fact, it's a miracle I'm alive today, considering the lack of common sense my mother displayed on a regular basis in her care for me when I was a baby. I'll spare you the numerous stories that were repeated to me as a child, but some of the situations were atrocious. Sometimes I wonder if my mother really did know what she was doing and was deliberately trying to harm me. I know that's an awful, fucked-up thing to say about your own mother, but we all know that there are some mothers in this world who are capable of something so heinous as killing their own flesh and blood.

My dad didn't receive any parent-of-the-year awards, either. When I was about five years old, he had a job interview and I went along, only to be left in his locked car in the sweltering summer heat. Luckily, a passerby noticed my sobbing and discomfort and coaxed me out of the car. (I know - the situation could've taken an even worse turn, but luckily there were still decent people in the world back then to help a child instead of harming one.) The nice stranger took me into the business where my dad was interviewing and found him. My father didn't get the job. Small wonder.

And, together, my parents were a train wreck. They left me home alone - for several hours - when I was four. Better yet, I was locked out of the house ... deliberately. Luckily, the nosy neighbor noticed me outside by myself and thought to ask where my parents were. Within the hour, my grandmother showed up to whisk me away to her home, all thanks to the neighbor my dad constantly bitched about.

My parents split up when I was six and my father was granted custody; I guess the courts felt he was the lesser of two evils. My mother didn't agree with the decision, so she kidnapped me and hid me with a low-life family who lived in a house that wasn't much more than a shack. There was no heat or running water, and barnyard animals roamed around freely in this family's yard. Again, luckily, my father - with the help of my grandmother and great-grandmother - found where my mother had enrolled me in school and "stole" me away from her as I was exiting the school bus one October morning.

So, yes, my definitions of what family is and what love is supposed to be were pretty distorted, based on my own very unusual childhood experiences. I think all of those circumstances affected and influenced me well into my twenties, which is why I didn't feel comfortable becoming a mom. I mean, what did I know about being a good parent? I didn't think I had any business bringing a child into the world because I had nothing positive to offer him or her.

After many years of soul-searching, healing and counseling, I now know that I do have a lot to offer in my role as a parent. If nothing else, I know what not to do. I know not to let history repeat itself. I have learned to love in the way I longed for as a little girl. I want to be able to love my babies the way all children should be loved.

All of those newly realized feelings and emotions sparked that desire for my own family. Once I met Mike, I instantly knew that he was the man who should be the father to my future child(ren).

Mike couldn't have reaffirmed my decision more strongly, as he displayed boundless amounts of love towards me and Ryan while I was pregnant. And, during those two tumultuous days of Ryan's life, he was a better parent to our son than I had ever imagined possible of anyone.

As our hearts were being ripped to pieces, his love for me and Ryan never faltered, and I know he would've given his own life if it could've spared Ryan's.

That's what being a family and being loved is all about. Finally, I understand.