Freedom

It was Spring Break 1988 and my good friends were heading out to Panama City Florida, just as they had every Spring Break. I never had the chance to experience Spring Break up until that year. My aunt had always denied me to go and this time was no different. Although instead of obeying her, like I had always done, I decided to go anyway. She came in from work as I was packing for my trip. As I told her of my decision, she was very upset. For 11 years, she had controlled me and she had made every decision for me. So, for me to finally get the courage to stand up to her did not set to well. I was 18 and felt like I had I enough of her overly controlling ways. She informed me that if I went against her wishes, I would no longer live there upon my return. That was something I would deal with when I did return. But for now, I was headed to PCB with my friends to enjoy the last of my teen years. My teen years wasted away because of her. I can remember only a few rare occasions that I was allowed to attend my high school football games, hang out with friends at the mall or cruise the strip. You know, innocent things all teenagers do. She dictated most of my life decisions thus far and I was tired. Tired of obeying, tired of always being scared that she was going to be mad at me for some odd reason, just tired of walking on eggshells basically.

That week of Spring Break ’88, I do believe I made up for all the years I missed previously. I experienced the partying lifestyle to the fullest. I learned how to funnel beer, I joined in on wet T-shirt contests and woke up with major hangovers. The memories from that year are priceless and although sitting here reminiscing about those days, I do understand a bit why my aunt never allowed me to go. But being sheltered and controlled over the course of 11 years only adds more issues later on in your adulthood. Issues such as rebellion against authority and indecisiveness. My decision making skills suffered because of the controlling environment I endured.

When I arrived back, I had already made arrangements to stay with a friend and her family. They invited me into their home and treated me like family. And how crazy is that they lived four houses up from my aunt. On occasions, she would leave my mail on the windshield of my car. The mail mainly consisted of letters from a boyfriend. He was in the Navy and was stationed in Japan. Repeated talk of marriage came from him. He would send me his monthly pay, only keeping a small amount for himself. He was so much in love with me. One day, he had called. He was not aware I had left home. My aunt answered only to tell him some untrue details of my leaving. She told him I had other boyfriends and I was using him. The letter I received from him after that was explaining his heartbreak. Although I admit my feelings for him were not the same as his, I felt really awful for breaking my first heart. I was not nearly ready to settle down at that time of my life. He cut all communication with me at that time and to this day I wonder if he has made a lucky woman his wife.

Our lives are ours to live. No matter if we live saintly or not, we all make poor decisions at some point. Every poor decision is a learning experience. Poor decisions help mold us into the individual we are today. So, as we look back, on our course of rough roads, be proud that you stood up brave enough to make a decision for yourself. Right or wrong. They’re all good down the road.
Funnel

My Purpose

 

As the childhood years of my girls seemed to fly by, my top priority in life was to make sure they had the best memories as they look back on those years. Family vacations to the mountains every year, birthday parties with sleep overs, being involved with extra curricular activities and just overall feeling loved coming from a stable family, I made sure they received all I did not.

I realized my main purpose was to always be there for both my girls. To be there for them one hundred percent and to be their biggest fans throughout their lives. They would have the kind of mother I had wished for. 

They kept me super busy and I enjoyed every minute of it. I would not of changed anything if I could.  From Codi’s softball games, volleyball games, track and varsity high school cheering to Mariah’s soccer games, trying her hand at basketball, and following in her sisters steps with playing volleyball.  I couldn’t of been happier and prouder to be the mother of these two.  

But on another note, We all have things we wish we could’ve done differently over the years, and yes, I had made my share of parenting mistakes. Mistakes, I would give anything to change. Like the way I was not always approachable, at times not so understanding, and the fact that patience wasn’t my strong point. 

Til this day, I battle with my inner demons when it comes to the subject of motherhood. At times, I would wake up feeling anxious about failing my two daughters as a mother. With emotions of negativity trying to overtake me, I feared these feelings wouldn’t end. I had to overcome and block these dark voices out. The ones calling me a failure. I had to get up and be the best I could for my girls. They deserved it. I vowed that they would not be encircled in the chains of dysfunction. That maybe one day, they would never doubt their mothering skills due to past family history. 
 Keeping a commitment of learning, healing and growing is what defines a good parent to me. The mistakes we’ve made along the way does not define our relationship with our children. A loving relationship is not one in which hurt never happens. It’s in fact  about unconditional love, and being humble enough to admit your mistakes. 

Ryan, Our Special Angel

As Christmas of 1991 approached, we had moved into our first apartment and was excited to spend our first as a family. With my girl just starting to take her first steps and another little one on the way, I was uneasy about motherhood. There wasn’t instructions on how to be an nurturing mother and I was not taught as such. All I knew is that my love was so great for my daughter and for the child I was carrying, that maybe it’d come naturally.

Our marriage started off extremely rocky. We didn’t know each other long enough to understand the ways of the other. Stubborn as we both were, a lot of arguments and some physical altercations occurred as well. Looking back now they always seemed to over the smallest thing. So unnecessary at the time. We had much love for one another, and we decided this marriage was going to work. No matter what, we married for life. We could always work through any situation.

I continued to work at Pizza Hut part time in the evening while Jamey was a paint contractor in the day. Being in that business, financially, some months were good, others very bad. We struggled but somehow managed to stay afloat.

At 10:20am on March 31, 1992, our son Ryan was born. What was supposed to be an exciting moment quickly turned heartbreaking. The nurses were in a panic, paging for the doctor STAT. Immediately after the delivery they had noticed he did not look normal. His skin was bluish. Especially around his lips and his nails. Cyanosis is due to the tissues near the skin surface having low oxygen saturation.  After further investigation by the doctor, he was diagnosed with Trisomy 13.  Trisomy 13 is a genetic disorder. It caused his heart not to develop properly. He had no right or left aorta instead a hole in which the blood pumped through. He was given 1 year life expectancy.  I felt so lost and extremely saddened.

Ryan stayed in the hospital for three weeks. The day had come that we got to  finally bring him home. Jamey and I had a meeting with the doctor. He needed to watch us both feed him before he was released. You see, he couldn’t be bottle fed due to him being weak and too much strain would cause his heart to work harder. He had to be tube fed.  We each took turns, with supervision from the doctor, inserting the tube down into his throat into his stomach, making sure it was not in his lungs instead.  The doctor really stressed this point. Using a stethoscope put on his stomach area, we pushed a tad of air through tube, if we heard a gurgle it was good. If not, we had to reinsert  it. Were we going to be able to care for this precious boy? Joy is supposed to be the emotion upon taking your baby home, ours was fear.

Back at the apartment, we got all settled in with Ryan. A bassinet beside the bed is where he’d sleep. A month of tube feeding went by. It got to be too much, being very tedious and stressful each feeding time. So, one day I packed up all the supplies in a box. I noticed that he sucked his pacifier with no problem. Going against the doctors orders, I went out and bought a him a baby bottle. Making the hole of the nipple slightly larger and added rice cereal to the formula. The reason for adding cereal was for thickness so he wouldn’t get strangled. It took this just fine and seemed to enjoy. No more tubing.

Codi was a little more than a year old, but she was such a big help to me. When Ryan was a few months when he began to cry a lot.  I could tell he was in distress. Two things that made him happy and comfortable were constant gentle movement, Codi made sure when I had dinner to prepare or other chores, she took over rocking his bassinet.  His other thing that made him comfortable was warmth. In other words, he was miserable with the air conditioner on. It was mid summer and he was at his happiest outside. The minute he would feel the warmth from the sun upon his pale skin he immediately quit crying. So, with that being said we turned the air off at night to make him comfortable. Mind you, we lived in an upstairs  apartment in June. But we wanted his quality of life, as short as it may be, to be the best we could provide.

The beginning of July, Ryan’s health began to decline. He wouldn’t eat, he wouldn’t sleep and even the two things that would usually make him calm wasn’t working at  all. We took him to Eggleston Children”S Hospital  in Atlanta one night after 48 hours of exhaustion. An IV was started and the doctor”s noticed a condition called purpura, bleeding under the skin. It’s caused by his blood vessels bursting, stemming back to his heart condition. He was admitted for a week or so. Either Jamey or myself stayed by his side continuously. They sent us home with a med to help him relax. Nothing else could be done.

I felt uneasy about having to give this narcotic medicine to help him rest, but in a sense I was making the rest of his life bearable, trying to keep him comfortable.

Then on the evening of July 21st, as I  had finished the dishes and after I rocked Codi to sleep, I went into check on Ryan. I looked at him very closely not wanting to touch him with fear of him waking. When he was awake he was crying constantly. I did not see his chest rising so then I touched him, he was limp. I grabbed him up and what I thought was a burp was actually his last breath being released from his lungs. I was in a panic, Jamey was playing a softball tournament and all I remember is the hospital telling me not to call 911 when the time came because they would try to revive him and we wanted him to go peacefully. I called 911 anyway and started CPR while waiting for them to arrive.  I informed them of his medical condition upon their arrival. They took over life saving procedures while rushing him to nearest hospital. My mother and father in law arrived shortly after ambulance’s  departure. I notified my neighbors to please tell Jamey when he got in, to come to Southern Regional immediately. Then off we sped a few miles up the road. We rushed into the emergency room, soon after arriving we were met by the doctor stating ” I have worked on him nonstop for thirty minutes with no signs of life. Would You like for me to continue?”  With tears in my eyes and a broken heart I replied “no sir, let him be at peace.” At that moment, Jamey came running in, with his dirty softball uniform on, he looked at me with hope in his eyes and I shoke my head no and whispered in his ear, “he’s gone.” We both cried while in each other’s arms. Losing a child is so hard at any age, our little boy had went to be with the Lord. Although, the pain was unbearable for me, He was no longer in pain and his heart was completely healed. The day will come in which we will get to hold and love on him once again. In God’s timing.

Here we were planning our sons funeral. With all the costs a little overwhelming, the very nice people at Pope Dixon in Jonesboro blessed us with giving us a casket at no charge. Such a sad, despairing time yet they took a little of the burden away with all their help.

Ryan’s was laid to rest the following week. We had a lot of support from family and friends. I do not think we could’ve made it without all the love surrounding us. We chose his final resting to be in a beautiful cemetery, Forest Lawn. The main reason for choosing this one was it had a special section for babies. “The Garden Of Angels.”

Still to this day, we go and visit his grave. Cleaning up and sitting by the nearby lake to reminisce. Looking back on how we overcame much difficulties and still we are going strong.