WARNING: Very personal post ahead…


(Please, keep in mind that, even though I have posted in the past things about my past, they have always been short and relevant to the main part of the post.)  

After twenty years of looking and one week of talking online and on the phone, Paul, my son, got to meet his birth father.  He loved the experience and they both got along very well.  He also got to meet one of his uncles as well, from that side of the family.  We were both a little nervous as to what would happen, but it all went very well, and I am very glad.  We spent all day and part of the night there, and talked about all sorts of things, joked, and picked on one another.  I realized how much of his father’s side of the family he really had in him, and was glad that I survived raising him, thus far. lol  

Rewind 20 Years…


I was seventeen and (though mom would disagree) very much in love.  He was caring, listened (most of the time), made sure I had what I needed, and was everything a girl my age could ask for in a boyfriend.  He was 23.  Yep, I know.  SHHHHHHHH.  We did things together, and we did things.  I got pregnant.  (Told you we did things.)  I ran away from home.  Why?  Who knows.  I don’t remember the reason.  I think it was because I thought my parents were angry with me.  After all, my mom thought I had just thrown my future away when I decided to keep Paul.  I was in my rebel-without-a-clue phase.  Buddy was there with me, and I believed I was in very good hands.  It was rough going, but he made sure I ate when there wasn’t enough food for two.  He even made sure I ate when the only food in the house was food I didn’t like.  *squints eyes and shakes head*  About a month and half before my son was due, my boyfriend’s dad ousted me out of the apartment, and I went back home.  Buddy was there for the birth.  (I will spare those details.)

Forward…  After the Birth…

I didn’t hear from him for three months.  I didn’t realize that he had been in jail for community service that he didn’t finish.  By the time he did call, hurt, feelings of being abandoned, and frustration were tinged with a bit of anger.  “If you didn’t think I needed anything from you three months ago, what makes you think I need anything from you now?”  I was eighteen, a single mom.  I was working, and paying my mom rent.  (Yep, she charged me rent.)  I did make attempts at trying find him after a few more months, after what I said had bored into me, and convinced me that I had overreacted without knowing the full situation, but the only lead that I had wanted nothing to do with me, and I couldn’t remember where the other members of his family were living.  I was beginning to wonder how anyone could know they had family out there and not care.  Didn’t know his family had chosen to stay out of it.  I went on with my life, and the questions I feared that would never be answered.  

Fast forward to the present…

  Here we are.  Questions answered, day spent, and more family found.  Being an only kid, and having a family a state away, I guess you could say not feeling alone is important.  I am glad that Paul reconnected.  I am glad that I got to talk to Buddy.  I am also glad that the years tempered the hurt, and put a band-aid on it.  I now realize that I still have feelings for him.  I love and adore my husband, and I would never do anything to jeopardize what I have.  I have been honest and open with Mark every step of this journey, not leaving anything out.  I don’t want him to have doubts and insecurities.  They are meeting on Thursday, when Buddy comes over to help with the garden.

 Until then God Bless.

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