Lucky 13

On Mother's Day, my little boy turned 13. The little premature bundle that almost didn't survive now looks like he's preparing to become a Dallas Cowboys linebacker. He's overcome a lot in his short life. He struggled through sickness his first year. Dealt with dyspraxia (underdeveloped frontal lobe) which took 10 years to get a diagnosis for. Rejection, the divorce of his parents, separation from his sister. Through all this and more, he has emerged as a wonderful, loving, creative young man. He's overcoming the dyspraxia as his frontal lobe finally catches up to the rest of him. He has a new extended family that loves him dearly. He's found a love and knack for art and story writing. And has a smile that lights up a room. An all around great kid.

I've grown with him the past 13 years. When I became pregnant, I was a frightened 19 year old. I had no confidence or people skills after years of basicly living in a car, travelling state to state with a father who kept my little brother and I isolated from most other people. I married someone I had known as a child and became an instant wife and mother to a 2 year old girl. Soon after I had my little boy. It was a lot of change fast. I worked, learned to deal with and handle people in any situation. I earned my GED while working full time. I went through the loss of 2 more children. Eventually I divorced and became a single working mom taking care of Matthew. I remarried and we started from scratch. I lost 4 more kiddos in a short period of time. I earned a MA certification while taking care of the kiddo with my husband gone with the Army most of the time. It has been hard, but there has been many moments of joy. I have been lucky to grow up with the greatest kid in the world (yeah, I'm biased :D). I don't think I would change most of it. We've learned a lot and I think we're better for it. Sometimes 13 isn't such a bad luck number.