Part One: The Beginning

I was born in Kenosha, WI where I lived for the first six years of my life. My mother was 20 and my father was 19 when I came into the world. Since they were in no way financially set when they began reproducing, I spent a lot of time with my maternal and paternal grandmothers. My first sister, Shayna, was not born until I was four years old, so my childhood memories are comprised of birthday parties in July (my birthday is December 23, but my grandmother decided it wasn't fair that I had to share my birthday with Christmas), sleepovers with favorite relatives and generally having everything I wanted. Of course, this was cause for a rude awakening when the first sister, Shayna, came along, but I will not bore you with those details.
My family moved here, to Bemidji, MN, when I was six years old. We had to leave our Black Lab, Star, behind and only brought basic necessities with in my mom's small car. Later, my grandmother had to move out of her house and everything we owned was distributed to goodwill, family friends and the dump. Shayna and I promptly came down with the chicken pox, which lasted about two weeks. I attended first through fourth grade at Northern Elementary, which I hated. It's common knowledge in this small town that people with money tend to send their kids to Northern elementary. Well, my family did not have money. I was the kid wearing yard sale apparel and for this I was ridiculed.F ifth grade was spent at Lincoln Elementary. I cannot explain how different it is for a low-income kid who has been snubbed for four years at a snobby country school to finally be embraced for all her awesomeness at an inner city school. My oldest friendships were made during that last year of elementary school. My mother attended BSU for her undergrad, which she completed in three out of four years while working full time at Perkins and suffering serious sleep deprivation. My dad was physically around but I was charged with the care of my three younger sisters. Until middle school, summer vacation and sleepovers were unheard of.
During my middle school years I did not spend much time at home. At some point I had realized that it was not my responsibility to raise my parents' other daughters, so I left as often as possible. My father was verbally and emotionally abusive, and it very well could have turned physical, but I spent so much time away from home that it never had a chance to escalate to that point. Middle school is a happier blur than elementary school was, but it remains a blur none the less.

Part Two: High School

We are jumping straight to the year 2004, because that is when my entire life changed. I failed my entire freshman year because I was busy partying and being in love. My high school sweetheart and I attended Winter Formal together and things grew from there. Puppy love can be a terrible thing. It allowed me to remain blind to key character flaws in those I surrounded myself with. I can honestly say that I did not have a single close friend to depend on at this time in my life.
In January of 2004, I was informed that I had a half brother I had never heard of. I am two months and one day younger than him. He and his cousin found our phone number on the internet and he contacted us for the first time ever. In March my father had brain surgery. The Mayo Clinic staff was trying to reverse his epilepsy that was caused by a high fever as an infant. Scar tissue had formed and would send the occasional golf ball pinging around his brain. I witnessed many grand mal seizures growing up. I was glad that soon it would be fixed. I met my brother for the first time when our dad had that surgery. Hours after meeting him we were allowed to visit dad in recovery. My dad is a six-foot-tall burly Hispanic mechanic. He was the epitome of strength to me. He was never weak. In that recovery room, my dad looked at my brother, cocked his head to the side and asked, "Mickey?" My brother said, "Yeah Dad, it's me." My brother's name is Nick. My heart broke for both of them. Following the surgery, we left Rochester to return home to Bemidji and my brother went home to Illinois. Things were some semblance of normal for about a month until disaster struck again. After the brain surgery, the doctors told my father not to resume any old habits, for this would be cause for regression. My father, being the man that he is, figured the advice administered was a simple formality. On April 20, 2004 (that's right, 420), my father "fell asleep" while making breakfast for himself. When he awoke he had time to throw open the front and back doors for the animals to escape. The flames had already consumed the entire kitchen ceiling. Fortunately, the only casualties were two beloved cats. Unfortunately, my parents were behind on the mortgage payments. This meant that the sub-standard insurance policy covered only the amount left to pay on the house. The Red Cross provided my family of six with $600 to buy necessities, but other than that we were on our own. This is the second time in my life that I lost everything I owned for reasons I could not control. After a failed attempt to move to Prescott, Arizona, we lived in a single-wide trailer and then another rental. The former was much too small and the latter flooded a month after we moved in. On Halloween night we moved back home, to Kenosha. It had been nine years since we had left. Now I was returning, fifteen years old and four months pregnant. I might note that the father of my child, my high school sweetheart and winter formal date, did not move with me. By the time I was sixteen and seven months pregnant, I was a full-fleged single mother awaiting the birth if her son.

Part Three: Witty Name for This Chapter of My Life

After 24 hours of back labor and being a week overdue, Aden James was born at 12:23 p.m. on April 26, 2005. He weighed 9.1 pounds and was 21.5 inches long. My father was so upset with me for having a child under such circumstances that he did not look at his grandson for two weeks after I brought him home, despite the fact that we all lived in the same house. My aunt from Green Bay came to help me get my bearings for the first week, and after that I was virtually on my own. Thankfully, my son's paternal grandfather had not stopped talking to me as his father had, so he sent me sone financial support. Three months later my mom, sisters, Aden and I moved back to Bemidji, sans my father. This was long in coming and I was glad that it had finally just happened. When we got back I put myself on county assistance so that I could provide for myself and my son. I have been doing so ever since. I graduated high school on time with my class, but please don't ask me how. All I knew was that it was necessary. It was an obstacle to overcome. Any challenge presented to me will usually get me up off my ass, but this was bigger. I had a son to think about, and I knew very well that I was the only one thinking about him. The rest of high school was a blur to me. My world became very small and consisted of just me and Aden, and a couple of friends I had reconnected with. For Aden's first year I was alone. No one wanted to date me and I didn't want to date anyone, so it all worked out. Somewhere along the way I started dating my best friend's cousin. He was 25 and I was 17. We hid the relationship from my mother for as long as possible, but naturally she found us out. This turned out to not be as big a deal as I'd thought it would be. He became a father to my son. I married him three years later.

Yes, that's right. I got married at age twenty.
Now let's fast-forward to the here and now. I'm twenty-three. I am currently sitting in a university classroom and I have just written this for my Web Content Writing class. I have a loving, supportive husband and two beautiful sons (Jace Avery was born on Tuesday, July 19, 2011), I am almost done with my Social Studies BA with a political science emphasis, writing emphasis and electronic writing certificate. I work two days a week and average making anywhere from $200-$400 between my wages and tips. I have a nice apartment and two idiot cats that are so high on life it's sick. I am closer to my dad now more than I ever was, and I credit this greatly to the 600 miles that now lie between us. I have a good life. I wouldn't trade it for anything. I have lived a lot of life in a short time, but that only means that I have more to love now in the present and even more to look forward to in my future. I may have done things backwards according to the societal norms that are thrust upon us at birth, but if you ask me, I did things just right.

"The world breaks everyone, and after, some are strong in the broken places."

Ernest Hemingway
There are no comments on this page.
Valid XHTML :: Valid CSS: :: Powered by WikkaWiki