Those days in that house were a blur.
My relationship with the guy, I’ll call him “C” grew quickly, we spent all our time together. Every waking moment.
C had the 3rd floor to himself and kept it pretty clean considering the examples he had downstairs. I only had to venture to the kitchen on occasion and would run right back up the stairs, on my heels the neglected dogs.
My eating disorder was almost in check simply by way of default. I had no money for food which suited me just fine and spent alot of time sleeping to combat my hunger. There was no energy for exercise.
I stopped having periods many many months before and was not practicing safe sex with C. I began getting violently ill, every morning. It never occurred to me that I might be pregnant because I had nothing to look forward to every month. But when C suggested it, we went to the store like a dutiful couple and picked up the test…positive.
Positive. positively positive.
It was the end of February and I made the call to my mother down in Florida to let her know the news. My family immediately went into action and arranged for me to stay with a cousin until they could figure out what to do, or until I could decide what I was going to do….
My son saved my life. I don’t think he knows that, but at that time in my life I still didn’t belong to any one, any family, any thing.
I was angry, reckless and suffering with a terrible disorder that deceives you into thinking you are in control. So at a time when my world was in chaos, came my first miracle.