Before my world was changed by two pink lines, I suppose I had always thought I’d do life the “old fashioned way”: build a career, meet a good man, settle down, get married, start a family… the white-picket-fence spiel. So what happens when you find yourself pregnant and single? How do you break the news that you’re expecting when you’re not in a committed relationship? Do you commit solely because you’re pregnant? How do you raise a child with someone that you hardly know? This is an honest vent.
There were a lot of thoughts, a lot of worries, a lot of sleepless nights. A lot of times that I planned to do things all on my own, and a lot of times I wished there was a way to “make it work” (such a cringe-worthy phrase) for the sake of him. My baby, who deserved better.
Over those next 2 years there were tough discussions, differing opinions, heated arguments. There was anger, and there was bitterness, and there were two people living completely different lives that were centered around one single life. But through it all we always put our son first, and somewhere along the way, it worked. We orchestrated an alternating schedule. He started a new family, and gave my son a new baby sister (with another on the way), at which point there were aspects of a family unit at their house that I no longer provided. And what I never could’ve imagined is how watching my son become a big brother, even from a distance, would be a blessing in so many ways. The way his tender heart is learning each day to be delicate, loving, and respectful to the women in his life. He gets to experience so many different people and things because of this co-parenting adventure.
Then came the day that I picked my sweet boy up from his most recent stay at Dad’s. I asked him if he was ready to go home, and with a big smile he told me “I have two homes!”
There were a lot of emotions that came along with those words- the thought that my little boy has a whole other life that I’m not a part of. He has another mother figure, another bedroom, another favorite book to read at night. But the joy that I felt was undeniable, because that is when I knew we were doing this right. I asked myself, what does home mean to me? Home is anywhere I feel safe, accepted, and loved. Is that what his sweet heart was telling me?
He says he has two homes. He feels safe, accepted, and loved everywhere he goes. And in the end, that’s all that ever mattered.