Today marks the one year anniversary of when my whole life changed.  Only thing is, at the time I didn’t know. 

It started out as normal as any other day.  The kids and I woke up.  I made them breakfast, got them dressed and brought them to school.  I went to work shortly after.  Picked up the kids, brought them home.  I helped my oldest with his school work while my daughter sat on my lap trying to undrestand the things we were doing.  Bedtime came so I gave them a bath, put them in their PJs and kissed their foreheads after they laid down and told them I loved them. 

Some friends and I planned on going out for the night so I got myself ready after they were asleep and while I was waiting for my babysitter/designated driver to come over.  My designated driver gave me a ride out to the bar that my friends and I were going to meet at.  Told her that I would call her when I was ready to come home.  She said okay and off she went. 

It had been a long time since I was last out so it didn’t take me long to feel the effects of the alcohol.  But Ive always been one who knew her limitations so if I knew I had too much, I’d switch over to pop and try to sober up some before going home.  I was having a great time dancing and hanging out with my friends.  But all of a sudden I got hot and outside I went to get some fresh air.  I walked up and down the sidewalk a few times just to try and regain my composure.  I didn’t see anyone else outside at the time, so I just kept to myself. 

All of a sudden a guy comes up from behind me and pushes me onto the pavement.  I lose consciousness for a minute and when i come to, I see him ontop of me with his hand over my mouth.  I kick and try to scream, but nothing comes out.  I bit his hand in hopes that it could divert his attention long enough to where I could get away.  But it didn’t.  He slapped me across the face and continued to push himself on me.  The rest is a blacked out memory. 

I go into the bar and grab my things and go back outside to call my babysitter to come get me and bring me home.  All I wanted to do was go home and forget everything happened as if it was all just a nightmare. I should of reported it but I never got a good look at who it was that did this.  And I just wanted it to all go away as if nothing happened. 

I tried so hard to push all of this in the back of my mind and continue on with my life as if it never happened.  I went to work just like any other day, I snuggled my kids and told them I love them just as much, if not more, then before anything happened.  A few weeks go by and I start feeling sick.  The denial part of me was thinking I was coming down with the flu, that there was no way I could be pregnant.  But then each day it slowly got worse and there was no way I could deny the feeling I was feeling.  Eventually I caved and took a test.  Of course, it turned up positive.  I rubbed my eyes a few times thinking my eyes were playing tricks on me.  So I took a few more and the line continued showing up. 

I laid onto my bed and just cried, cried harder than I’ve cried before over this.  I didn’t know where to go or what to do.  Abortion crossed my mind, but it left just as quickly as those 2 lines showed up.  I knew there was only one other option for me and that was adoption.  So I did my research, read numerous “dear birthparents” letters from couples looking to adopt.  I found a couple who I felt would be the best choice for me to give my baby to.  Trust me, if you would of asked me 10 years ago if I would ever give a child up, I would of said no in a heartbeat.  But there’s no way I could of physically, emotionally, or financially raised a 3rd child by myself. 

Its hard to believe that he’s already 3 1/2 months old.  But the pain I feel on an every day basis is the worst pain I’ve ever felt.  Worse than that night.  The day I walked out of the hospital without a baby I carried for 9 months was the hardest day ever.  After discharge, I came home and cried myself to sleep.  I woke up a few hours later and had both my kids laying in my bed next to me.  If it wasn’t for them, I wouldn’t be as strong as I am today. 

I’m grateful I had the opportunity to turn my pain into someone elses happiness.  But even though that’s the case, there isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t often think “what if I would have kept him? How would things be?  Would I love him just as much as I love my other two or would I love him less because of how he came to be?”  All these questions with no answers to be found.  But I’m thankful that I’m able to still be a part of his life, even if its only through pictures, emails, and occassional visits.  There’s no way, no matter what, I could go 18+ years without knowing how he was doing. 

I will always love him, no matter how far apart we are, he’ll always be a part of my family and always be my baby.