Wednesday, July 27, 2016

A letter from a drug addict to her newborn daughter

July 27th, 2006

Dear newborn daughter:

I have felt you move inside me.  I have heard your first cry.  I have kissed your soft face.  I have nursed you. I have counted all of your fingers and toes.  I have examined your entire body.  I have stared at you for hours.  I have refused to let the nurses take you away so that I can sleep.  Those nurses surprise me by dressing you in all of the little outfits I have brought with me to the hospital.  Those nurses tell me how relieving it is to watch a baby go home to such a good family.  Those nurses tell me that I am an amazing mother.  Those nurses cannot see the future.  But, I have.  And there are some things I need to tell you.

I love you. 
Right now, in this moment, there is nothing in this world I could possibly love more.
Right now, in this moment, your needs are the only things that matter.
Right now, in this moment, I would do anything in the world for you.

But, one day, all of that is going to change.  Slowly.  Over time.
And, honestly, it will surprise me as much as it does you.

One day, I am going to pick up a pill. 
And I am going to fall in love with it.

One day, I will take those pills, and then I will nurse you. 
One day, your pediatrician will tell me that I need to choose between taking those pills and nursing you, and I will abruptly wean you.  I will choose the pills over you.  And you will be devastated.  Inconsolable. 

One day, I won't wake up when you cry.
One day, you will sit in a dirty diaper longer than you should.
One day, you will cry because you are hungry and I will wait too long to feed you.

One day, I will stop reading you bedtime stories.
One day, the lullabies will cease.
One day, I will let the television put you to sleep.

One day, you will get hurt in my care.
One day, you will wonder outside, alone, while I am in bed passed out.

One day, you will look to me to show me something new that you have learned, and I will be in another world.

One day, I will put you in a vehicle and drive around with you, knowing full well that I am risking your life. 

One day, you will look out the window at the other families outside playing, and you will wonder why we never do the same.

One day, I will drink your medicine.  The medicine you need. 
One day, my desires will turn into needs, and they will matter more than yours.

One day, I will deserve to have you taken from me.

One day, I will steal money out of your piggy bank to buy pills.

One day, I will miss the pre-kindergarten luau, and you will be the only one there with no mommy.
One day, I will show up late for Moms and Muffins.  You will be so glad that I am there, but so sad that I missed the songs.  You will be so disappointed that your teacher will have the entire class sing the songs again so that you can sing to me. 

One day, I will ignore you.  I will just want you to go to sleep so that I can do my thing.
One day, you will want to cuddle/rock/play/sing/read/dance/talk, and I won't have make time for it. 

One day, you will deserve a different mother.  One who deserves you.

One day, I will pack my bags and leave without telling you good-bye.
One day, I will come back home and act as if nothing ever happened.
One day, I will leave again.  This time, I will tell you.  You will be devastated.  Inconsolable.

One day, your innocent ears will hear the words, "Mommy had to go away again because Mommy is a drug addict."  You will fight with everything inside of you to not believe that.  You think Mommy is perfect. 

One day, I will try to rock you to sleep and sing to you.  You will ask me to stop singing, as my songs now only bring tears.

One day, your daddy will kick me out.  
One day, you and I will only spend weekends together.

But, one day, somewhere along the way, I will vow that there will be no more "one days" like those.
I will fight like hell to make sure they don't come again. 

I will mess up....over and over and over again.  But, I will not give up.  Because I know that one day I will get it. 

And, our life will begin again.  You will be like a newborn baby, and I like a new mom.  We will get to know one another again.  You will hold my hand while we are driving.  On the days when all I can think about is the regret I have for ruining your life, you will have an endless flow of stories to tell.  Of happy memories.  Of times that make me sound like I was a good mommy.  You will barely remember the bad.  You will choose to remember the good.

One day, despite the fact that I have repeatedly broken your heart, you will tell me that I am your best friend.  You will want to be with me every second of the day.  You will choose to spend time with me above anything else.

You will grow into the kindest, most compassionate child I will ever meet....despite all of the mistakes that I will make.  You will amaze everyone with the heart for others that you will have. 

You will teach me what life is all about.  Just as I have given you life, you will help me get mine back.

One day, on your tenth birthday, you will wake up.  And I will be here.  Really here.  And I will fix you breakfast.  And we will spend the morning together.  And then I will leave for a short time to go to a "meeting" because that's our life now.  That's what keeps us together.  One day, I will make it, sweet daughter.  One day, we will make it.

Precious newborn daughter, I am sorry.  I am sorry that your innocence will be stripped away from you at such a young age. I am sorry for the days you are going to face...for all of the days you will have to face without me.  I am sorry for all the tears, worry, anger, loneliness, and sadness that will come because of my choices.  If I could change them right now, please know that I would. 

I love you more than the world.  Sadly, I will one day forget that. 

But, don't you worry. 

One day, I will remember it again. 

And, one day......I will never forget it. 

Happy 10th Birthday, Addalyn Faith.  There is no other child like you in the entire world.  If I could have dreamed you into existence, you would be no different than you are today.  You make me want to be a better person.  I love you, sweet girl. 

Click here to read about the day my husband became a single father.

1 comment:

  1. Love your honesty,I've been were you have been,its all to familiar but second chance is just that and I believe we all deserve that no one is perfect and at least you have proven what you can do with yours,wish you all the luck in the world and hope you continue with your recovery so you can remain being a mum xx