Dear Me

March 22, 2016

Dear Me,

At 19 you’re going to fall unexpectedly pregnant. You’ll see your father cry for the first time when you tell him and you will be scared and yes he will be angry – be strong, it won’t last for long.

The pregnancy will be hard – and the birth harder. You’re naive – you’ll be induced and endure a 7 hour labour that will result in a post partum haemmorage and almost kill you. You’ll be taken to surgery and stitched up and given a huge blood transfusion. You will come out of it though and when you do swear you are never doing that again but you will – four more times. When your dad comes to visit you’ll hold your son up proudly when he asks what you named him and say “Jordan” He will tell you that that’s a country not a kid. You’ll take that to heart but try not to, dads old school.

You’ll take your son home and raise him. When he’s 10 months old you will dump his fathers ass to the curb. You’ll be worried about being a single mother but try not to – you’ll be amazing at it. You’ll send him to çhildcare 5 days a week and earn $28,000 a year. It’s just enough to survive. You won’t get any help from his father. Try not to dwell on that. Just keep moving.

At 5 you will proudly take your son to the local catholic school. You will be the only single mother there. Ignore the stares, they aren’t happy anyway. When your son is 7 you will meet your future husband and 18 months later you will get engaged. Then married.

The same year you send your son to boarding school you’ll give him his first sibling. It’s a sister. He will love her.

Teenage years will be hard. At 13 he will be diagnosed with ADHD and the high school years are torture. You will just wish he would behave – but he won’t. You’ll think to yourself why can’t he hang out with the good, popular crowd. Then one time he gets invited out with them.

At 15 he tries alcohol for the first time – with them. The mixing of a bottle of vodka with Ritalin sends him to the ground fitting. You’ll race behind the ambulance as they take him to hospital – the in crowd is no where to be seen. At that moment you realise your son would never leave a friend in that position – and you know he’s worth ten of any of them any day.


He will continue to test the boundaries and at 16 go and live with his biological father for a year. You’ll cry every night straight for 12 months. He will leave boarding school and finish year 10. You’d hoped for more. You will be so disappointed. I wish I could tell you it will be ok and hug you. And wipe the tears no one sees. You keep it bottled up. By now you will have 4 children.

He will come back and forth from home and there will be more hurdles. Big ones. You’ve just had #5 when he leaves home for the last time. Your heart just about breaks in two. I want to tell you to hang in there but I doubt you’d listen. You are beside yourself – but don’t show anyone. On the outside you’re together. On the inside you’re falling. You’re not ready to let go but you have to.

The next year is strained. You don’t see much of each other. Then something changes. You do. You meet up. And the anger from both of you is gone. He’s a man now, still learning and mistaking constantly. You are still picking up the pieces. But you see your boy again. The little blonde you held in your arms and nutured. He’s smiling.

On his 20th birthday you hug each other and say I love you. And you both mean it. You’ve both made mistakes. He is now as old as you were when you had him.

And now you see it. It is going to be ok. You’re a great mum.

Love Me.

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