>My baby boy is going through a break up. He is 16, 6 foot 4, blue eyed, soft hearted, and torn apart. Momma no likey. At all.
Normally I would go all mother hen and be irate at the young lady who did the damage. But I can’t. See, I knew her, and wanted the best for those two kids. Before we moved, I cried to my husband like a baby because we were tearing them apart. I wanted her to come with us. I still wish she was here. She was about the age that the baby I lost shortly after I had Jacob would have been. I couldn’t help but look at her and wonder if my daughter (I thought the baby was a girl. I never got to know) would have been like her. So I guess I latched on a little too strongly and put the cart before the horse.
Distance is a hard thing. Especially for two young people. I’m so sorry it went this way.
Seeing him go through this stirs up so many emotions. Mostly it takes me back to my first love. That past I keep trying to run from? It all began with him. He took everything I was willing to give, broke me, betrayed me, and played with me like a cat toy for as long as he could. I was a baby. I went from playing with toys, to kissing this boy. I was over the moon. I was an idiot. The worst part? He broadcasted everything that went on between us, and gave me a reputation that I could not escape, and eventually gave in to. Hey, if everyone tells you that you are trash, and they treat you like it, maybe you ARE it. Right?
What would I go back and tell the girl of 13 who hated herself everyday? Who slumped her shoulders. Failed her classes. Wanted to be seen, yet wanted to hide. What would I tell that broken girl? I would hug her, tight. I would cry hot tears and tell her she was NOT who “they” said she was. I would tell her to hold her head up high. I would tell her not try to find love around every corner. I would tell her of the mommy she was to become. The things she will get done. I would tell her…”You ARE loved.”
I never went to a prom. It was like I was radioactive. I felt like an ugly creature that annoyed everyone. Some days, most days, I would lash out by being provocative, being comical, or appearing crazy. None of it worked. I cried myself to sleep a lot of nights. I wished I was dead many more.
They say you never forget your first love. No, you don’t. Unfortunately. The hardest thing I have had to tell my son, is that the only way to get through it is to go through it. Mom can’t make it go away.
Although I made a bad choice, I would not change it. That tough road led me to who I am today. If I changed one thing, I might not have my three precious boys. One might think that all those years of feeling trampled down would have destroyed my faith. Folks, my faith is why I am standing here. I don’t know how people do it without God. I really don’t.
I don’t know what happened to the guy. I don’t want to know. I wish him well where ever he is. I do wonder sometimes if he ever had kids. Did he have a little girl? And when she turned 13 did he think about what he did to me?