Wednesday, January 4, 2012

Another Year.

                                    

Ayva is about to turn 7. This scares me. My little girl is growing so fast and Im at a loss to think that the years keep flying, and before I know it, she will be driving, graduating, then leaving. Dont get me wrong... I want her to grow into the beautiful woman she will be someday, I just dont like the idea that someday she will move and start her own life.

Maybe its hard to think this way, because I dont feel like my life started till I concieved her. The wild adventure we have been on together, I know I wouldnt have been able to handle with out my precious baby girl. Shes been my rock and my foundation. Shes been the kick in my arse when I needed one, and now shes going to turn 7.

Maybe I should start somewhere else with this blog. Start with the reasons for even contemplating why I even started one. Ive always wanted to write down Ayvas begginings for her. Show her how for we came, so that in the future when life gets hard, she can look back and see what we have accomplished, see that even in the deepest hole, we climbed out. I want to be honest with her about her first few years of life, so she can see that ANYTHING is possible, and that to every rain storm, theres a rainbow lurking somewhere.

Pregnant at 19 was NO walk in the park... but it was the best un-smartest thing I could have done. I was a wild child, with no grip on real life, and Ayva nailed me with a hard reality when I found out my actions have consequences, hence becoming pregnant with her.

I want to share the real story. How I met her father and became a war bride in a matter of a month. Share how we someday moved out of that homeless shelter and learned to rely on ourselves. Share how I met your Handsome Daddy and convinced him to marry me September 17th 2011. Share so many important details that get lost with time.

But first to share your first.

2004 - From Minnesota to Wisconsin.

I met Steve on an unplanned last minute trip to Fort Mccoy Wisconsin. A few girlfriends of mine were going down there to say goodbye to some soldiers they were friends with. I got to tag along.

The trip there was adventorous in itself, but not needed to be discussed. It was like any 18/19 year old escape from a home town with the girls. It was a road trip.

When we were nearing our destination to the Army Camp, we stopped in Tomah Wisconsin at a local Walmart. This is where I met him. He was a stranger in a sea of uniforms, and I thought the world of him with out knowing his name. He was handsome. Tall and lean.

The girls and I on our way out from the store, saw a bus loading a bunch of soldiers, and being like most red blooded crazy women, we parked next to it, and talked to the guys. Which resulted in us picking some of the random guys up from the base and hanging out with them that night. Mr Tall and Lean happened to be with. I wont go into too much detail, but that night I broke his nose on accident before I even knew his name. As he was holding that bloody towel full of ice, he looked up at me with sympathetic eyes, and I was in love. Within a matter of a month or 2, I was pregnant, and Married (May 2004).

Two days after our crazy court house wedding, he was over seas. I became a war bride, pregnant by a man I barely knew. He didnt come home for a year and a half. I got to be sole parent your whole 9 months in my womb. I got to be the sole parent for many months after as well.

Id be lying if I said it wasnt hell. I worried for you, I worried for your father who was overseas. I had very little contact with him. A pay phone in Afghanastan was ultimatly it. There would be times that I hadnt got a single call for days. The longest was 54. The news became my enemy. Always something terrible on the television about another soldier lost. Every soldier had Steve's face. I saw a little of him in every man who died over there. I was terrified that I would get the news that the man who bore my child would never get to see her face.

Then one day he was home.  Me and him had our good times, followed with the ugly. He was a good man, but sometimes war has a funny way of changing a man. Im not to say that I wasnt at fault either. We both had our struggles. I had gotten so used to being the only parent I had a hard time letting go of the reins. He had a hard time of controlling his beer. Once upon a time he was a gentle soul, but at some point our relationship got physical and he hurt us both.

This is why he isnt in our lives anymore.

You became my reason to live, and before you were even a year, you became my reason to fight. The next few years were a blur, but the memories of some of the experiences shaped me. Memories best for another day, and another blog.

In a few days baby girl, you will be 7. This scares me. Scares me because someday years from now (even though the time goes so quick) I will be on my own. You have been my rock. I love you.

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