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I dreamed of you before I knew you, your gender was unknown but I knew you were mine. I had always seen myself as a mom but irregular cycles and a few close calls and I began to wonder if it was in the cards. I believe the universe was putting things into motion long before I knew.

I lost that belief after many doctor appointments, different doctors, specialist, and surgery. I remember that doctor speaking those words to me. Telling me that my surgery revealed endometriosis and he believed he got it all but it wasn’t a permanent fix. That wasn’t the part that ripped through me and made time stand still. It was listening to this doctor telling me, a girl in my twentys that getting pregnant would be very difficult for me and fertility treatment may be in my future.

I couldn’t help but think to myself in that moment that I was young, I’d lost weight, I was healthy and I was madly in love. So how could this be, how could the chapter of my life that I looked forward to most be over before it had begun. My heart was broken and my spirit felt reckless. It didn’t help that my relationship began to deteriorate over time. That long future and white dress in the pages of my mind were soon to be tossed aside like an old magazine.

My love and I split but I kept being drawn back to the love, the false and empty promises and hope. Just as I was finding myself and my comfort in my own skin, I was also falling down a deep, empty well because the things I wanted from my future would never exist. Him, weddings bells, baby…or so I thought.

I knew the exact day, a miracle was sent down to me. Felt the power of the full moon that night working its magic. Telling me that it had the answer for every night I cried to the night sky praying and wondering if I would ever and could ever be a mother. Despite this mystical knowledge, it would be weeks before my miracle could show itself.

It was Sunday, August 4, 2014 that you made yourself known to me as I stared at the word PREGNANT on an at home pregnancy test. You would think that would be proof enough, right? NO! It took three more positive at home tests, two positive blood results and an ultrasound before I believed what I had accepted was damn near impossible.

The first couple trimesters were a dream other than intense indigestion and fatigue. I didn’t have the guy but I had everything that I wanted. Unfortunately, like most good things in my life it just didn’t last. The hormones of pregnancy that I thought were my best friend turned on me in my third trimester. I felt the depression and anxiety of my youth seeping in with such intensity it scared me. I was trying to handle the change of my finances and my nearing venture fully into single motherhood.

My family helped save me while my baby girl kept me focused. I found myself back home living with my family in a nursery that they had beautifully decorated for her and I to stay in. My heart heavy, I cried for the apartment I’d work so hard for and lost and for the anxiety of giving birth and becoming a single mom.

I found myself at 41 weeks with my plan of a natural birth out the window and a stubborn baby that refused to come into the world any other way but force. My daughter was born April 16, 2015 8lbs 7oz via c-section and she took to breastfeeding like a champ. After spending the first 24 hours with family, my beautiful baby, and stuck recovering in bed. I found myself the next day alone and realizing that the day had come, I was a single mom. I pushed myself to be active, present, and everything my daughter could need.

I was prepared for sore breasts, tears on both are parts, and an adjustment but I couldn’t predict the train wreck ahead. That train wreck had a name…COLIC and I dreaded the witching hour every night. Colic had me fooled as it remained M.I.A. for the first 6-8 weeks. I thought I was a champion mom before it brought me to my knees.

The witching hour would come about and I’d curse the name because it didn’t last for one simple hour. My daughter cried 2-5 hours straight EVERY NIGHT. I read, googled, researched, and went on forums trying to find the answers. As I cried, screamed, and begged this tiny pink bundle for forgiveness, sympathy, or whatever I needed to say or do to end the tears.

I said so many nights to myself, tore myself further down, “YOU are her mother, YOU should know how to fix this”. I didn’t know how to fix it and everywhere I look there were just perfect moms with perfect families with perfect babies. I was so, so ALONE. Then like an angel in the night, my mother asked me for the second or third time if she could take my daughter. Let her try she said, was she crazy. She willingly wanted to walk into the lion’s den.

Within minutes, my daughter began to calm and I found myself feeling betrayed. Questioning myself as a mother down deep to the point of questioning whether this miracle was really sent to me. Maybe I intercepted someone else’s miracle because this is what a mother does. Calm a baby and you cannot calm a baby. I left my mother with my daughter, went upstairs and cried myself to sleep. It was only 15 minutes but it felt like 10 hours to an exhausted mind and body.

My mother became my calm in the storm, helping to relieve me some nights. I was able to get 2 whole hours of sleep and my mother became like a Goddess in my eyes. I silently and out loud resented that she could calm my daughter. I had spent money on wraps, swings, songs, different nursing techniques, etc. My mother said my daughter sometimes still cried and reminded me she herself was waking up from sleep so her patience and calm was fresh. I don’t know if it was true but either way I NEEDED to hear that.

I needed to know that I wasn’t a bad mom and this too shall pass. The more I researched the more I started to find other moms who weren’t so perfect and neither were there kids. Other moms who understood there isn’t always an option to hand your baby over to helping hands. There imperfections called out to my imperfections begging them to come out and play. I found myself many a night cradling a screaming baby while typing to another mom who could relate. Those moms, their stories, their advice, their love kept me afloat. Gave my battery a hot shot on the worse nights when I feared the words in my head and was begging to just be free. Once I got through the storm I was able to see I HATED COLIC but I LOVED my BABY GIRL.