My Dearest Aaron,
You came into my life at a sort of complicated time, and so I spent much of my pregnancy very stressed. Stressed because of how my parents and siblings received and dealt with the news of my pregnancy. Stressed because of who your biological father was (a Hispanic man making minimum wage, who spent much of his time high on weed rather than high on his dreams and expectations for his future). Stressed because my marriage (to Chuck) was headed for divorce. Stressed about whether or not I would find a man who would make the perfect father for you. Stressed about being a single mom and never making enough money to get off of welfare and to provide for you, and be able to give you everything you needed and deserved. And I never once thought about abortion or adoption. I could never live without the love of my life (my baby).
As you know, I was married but we weren't doing so good (another story for another time). It was while I was trying to transition my husband (Chuck) out of the house (which was not going well at all) that I began an affair with a guy I worked with (Mark). He was a shoulder to cry on more than anything else. He did love me, and he was such a cutie, but I knew right off it really wasn't going to be a long term relationship simply because our goals and life expectations were so different.
Once I suspected I may be pregnant, I went to the Crisis Pregnancy Center for a free test. The test results were negative for pregnancy, but the lady suggested it could be a false negative because it could be too early in the pregnancy and suggested I return in a few weeks for a second test. Instead, I took comfort in that I was likely not pregnant and did not think about it again.
I was probably 3-4 months into the pregnancy when I started experiencing morning sickness. I was living back at home with my family and my mom asked about the possibility that I might be pregnant. I scoffed at her suggestion but only to put her mind at ease; however, her suggestion had reminded me of the possible "false negative" result - and not one for tracking my 'cycles', I couldn't remember my last menstruation (sorry, TMI - I know). I purchased a home pregnancy test and the results showed positive (of course).
Now, my mind raced with thoughts, concerns, and worries. I thought about my family, about Chuck, about Chuck's family, about Mark, and Mark's family. I knew their reactions already - and upset would be an understatement. At this time, I was already separated from Chuck and he had filed for divorce, though it wasn't finalized yet. Maybe, if I remained married to him, then people would simply assume the baby was his. But there was more to it, it wasn’t “just” an unplanned pregnancy - I was pregnant with a baby that would be half Mexican. Multi-racial families were not so accepted then as they are now, and even now there are a lot of obstacles to contend with. My own family would come across as racist at times; though if you had asked any of them, they would have told you different.
After telling my family about the pregnancy, and all the yelling had quieted down, my intention was to continue with the divorce and be a single parent. I tried to wrap my head around my new future...
It was not long after that I was sitting in my parents living room with mom watching television. I remember laughing at something on tv and glancing over at mom as if to share the laugh - but she wasn't laughing. She wasn’t watching the show. She just sat there, staring at me, her eyes filled with disappointment, and shaking her head back and forth. She didn't say a word, she didn’t have to. She buried her face in her hands and sobbed in disappointment. Maybe she deserved that. Still, I was frustrated with what I felt was a lack of support and I left for a walk. This event was to mark another defining moment in my life...
I had to deal with this – me. And it was clear that I was not going to get the support I needed from my family. I understood her disappointment, but I could not handle living in the same household under these circumstances. At this time, Chuck was now staying with his family who lived around the corner from my parents' home. I could see if he would take me back, maybe try to make another go of things. Maybe if we raised the baby together; maybe if we could see eye to eye; maybe we would mature together, grow to love each other; maybe we could become a healthy, happy family. He and I walked the neighborhood and talked as I tried to find the words to break the news of my pregnancy as easily as possible, and then ask him if we could make things work. Initially, he didn't say a word; he just started running ahead of me and on down the road. I knew he needed time to think, so I let him go. I couldn’t blame him - I was asking a lot. By the time I got home, he was there, waiting for me. He agreed to give our marriage another try, but he made his terms clear - you were never to know the truth about your biological father... and I didn't like that idea, but I agreed.
Still unsure about this new direction, I convinced Chuck to take me to Mark’s to say a final goodbye; but it wasn’t really my plan. I had intended to tell Mark about my pregnancy, and to see what he had to offer. Instead, his sister, Sylvia, and mother met me in the front yard. Before I could say anything at all, Sylvia began yelling at me, she was irate because I had not seen Mark in a while and now, here I am popping up at there home with Chuck in tow. Her mother calmed her and told me where to find Mark, but I was never able to locate him that day and I sat in the car with Chuck thinking maybe it was a "sign"... ? Maybe, I wasn’t supposed to be with Mark... ?
Labor began as an annoying back ache and very, very early in the morning. I'm guessing it was probably 3 or 4 a.m. and I was too tired to wake. The pains were far enough apart that I would sleep between contractions, and honestly, I didn’t realize at the time that I was in labor. By 8-ish, the pains were stronger and more frequent and I wasn't getting any sleep. I realized then that I was having contractions and woke Chuck to head over to the hospital. Mom had gone out of town but raced back after getting the call. She made it to the hospital as I was being wheeled into delivery.
I had received an epidural for pain and it worked perfectly, even got a little more sleep. Delivery was normal with no surprises really, everything was very "textbook".
And you were born.
It was the single most life changing moment in my entire life – and it was beautiful. You were absolutely the most beautiful baby I had ever laid eyes on. Perfection!
And to be honest, your birth changed a lot of lives in wonderful ways - ways no one could have ever expected. Mema, who had been so disappointed over the pregnancy initially, wrapped her heart around you and never let go. You are likely the most important person in her life. And your Aunt Erica, she had been so angry with me and all the drama I had brought on by this, and now you will always have a very special piece of her heart. And Chuck loved you from the moment he laid eyes on you just as if you truly shared his blood. To be a father to a babe who holds your heart but not your blood can be stressful, as much as he loved you he was also very jealous that he was not your biological father as well - but always know, his love for you was as good as it gets – don’t ever doubt that Aaron. You can always know in your heart, that no matter how much distance is between you and Chuck and no matter how much time goes by without seeing each other, he still loves you and misses you. Oh to be loved like you Aaron…
...and that’s what babies do to hearts. They can turn what seems to be the most tragic of circumstances into the most perfect experience of Light, Love and joy. It’s magical. You are magic.
Eventually, my marriage to Chuck ended - and that was best (the physical and emotional abuse simply was not going to end).
I introduced you to your biological father, Mark, who was married to Laura now and had another son, Matthew. But things became complicated with him as well (I suppose I 'll elaborate on this later) and I backed off from them to an extent. It was my thought that since he knew where we lived, if he wanted, then he could call us rather than me always contacting him first. He didn't. But, I think he just felt maybe that's the way I wanted it, or maybe it was low self-esteem, or maybe he was more comfortable letting me pursue him rather than him pursuing me... I don't know.
I began dating and ended up meeting Roy. You were only about 6 years old. We moved in together along with Roy’s two boys, Roy Jr (then 8) and Corey (then 4). It was about this time that you became sort of physically aggressive. The tension would mount for days at a time, and then you would "blow-up" or we sometimes referred to them as "episodes", but they only occurred maybe once every 6 months. It really wasn't all that often, it was just traumatizing - for you, for me, for everyone in the family.
What was the cause of the episodes? Maybe it was the termination of parental rights from the only father you had known (Chuck). Maybe it was meeting your "real" dad (Mark) and then not having any contact with him (losing yet another father). Maybe it was my marriage to Roy, and you suddenly having to share me and my attention with three other people that stressed you. Maybe it was the lack of control over what was happening to you and all the life changes (this would make sense, your mother loves being in control too, and I never took to change to easily either). But likely, it was all of this and maybe more.
I tried rationalizing, and talking things out, but you couldn't explain your frustration and never felt like talking. You didn’t know what was angering you specifically; you just knew you were angry. Frustrating then, but in hindsight, it makes sense; it’s hard for young children to talk about stresses when they are still trying to learn to express themselves. Poor sweet baby.
I read everything; searching for answers, and tried so many different methods in an effort to help resolve your frustrations and eliminate the “fits”, to no obvious avail. And everyone had a suggestion or "better idea" - as if I hadn’t already tried that. They had no idea! When you live with this, and it involves your baby (your heart), it kinda consumes you.
Punishment phases began with a “reminder” of probable punishment (like, "if you don't straighten up then you're going to go to your room!"), which graduated into secluding you in your room (or time-out), and then the dreaded spanking (when you continued kicking the walls, slamming doors, and throwing things). The spankings sometimes turned into something of a scuffle. No, I don’t feel you were abused, but the spanking, scuffle, and yelling was too dramatic for either of us, and the drama likely traumatized us both. Still, I wish I could go back and figure out what the miracle solution should have been then. If it was to divorce Roy so that it would be just the two of us again - I would have done it – in a heartbeat! Lord knows I thought about it (and the only reason I didn’t was because I had to know it would be a certain fix, guaranteed ...but there were no guarantees). Maybe the solution was what it is - time and maturing, and so things worked out just as they were intended... ?
The "episodes" continued through about grade 8, and they affected everyone. Me, Mema, Roy, Jr. and Corey, Aunt Erica – everyone was so concerned for your well being, so worried about your future. By high school, they seemed to be much, much fewer and not quite so dramatic (maybe once or twice a year - whew!). And by 11-12th grade, there was a complete "about-face" - a 180. I remember we were discussing colleges and you became so frustrated with me. I wasn't saying what you wanted to hear. It was obvious that you wanted to lash out but instead you just began to cry and told me you had to take a walk to chill out. It seemed to me your tears came from that huge effort you were making inside yourself to control yourself. Or maybe, you just wanted us to be on the same page so badly and when we weren’t, that frustration broke you down? (I could understand that. I’ve been there myself too.) You left and I didn't try to stop you, it was a healthy move on your part and I was so proud of you. You recognized and acknowledged your frustration - but then you controlled it too! I feel that you became a man that day - a mature, honest, and humble man worthy of all the respect in the world!
Today, I don't know what your perception is of the "episodes", but you have grown into a mature, intelligent, self-sufficient, independent, humorous, and respectful man – and you amaze me!
Not a day has ever gone by that I don’t thank God for blessing me with you. Through all the ups and downs, I have never, ever once regretted you. You are my breath and my heart, and I love you with all of my being.
