Tomorrow my son turns four years old.
At the time of his conception, I was living in a hostel (flop house would be more accurate) in East Los Angeles. Overwrought with grief. I had basically settled into there with the intention of dying.
I was doing enough modeling and adult work to keep me housed and fed. Went out dancing a lot. Slept around. Did far too much partying. Fortunately, I never overdosed or developed a dependency. Lord knows I deserved both.
It was a very bleak pregnancy. And I can’t say that mothering him alone has been any easier. Being a single mom is stressful, exhausting, and isolating.
My son saved my life. Gave me a purpose that I never thought I’d have again. Started my 30’s off on a preferable path.
The kid is intelligent and full of talents. He is the very definition of extrovert. A little entertainer and everyone is his friend. Can’t wait to see what the future holds for him.
Just praying that I can be the kind of mom he deserves.
Happy birthday to my little Sagittarius. I love that little punk to pieces.
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