There were three things I desperately wanted before I turned thirty: a home to call my own, a wonderful man, and a child to love forever. I dreamed of the perfect home with the white picket fence, the hot husband who would walk to the ends of the earth to make me happy, and the healthy child to complete me.
I grew up in a large home with a loving family. I dreamed of the same closeness for my family. Growing up, I had long horrific relationships. The first was 7 years of lying and cheating. I was young and very naive. The next was 6 years of torture. I would go to bed at night wondering when or if he would come home or when he would call me to come pick him up at another woman’s home.
Then one day it happened, when I least expected it, I met the man of my dreams. I was 28 and he was only 23. I knew I’d finally found the wonderful man. I settled down in Hermon with Shawn and in 2000 began building my dream home. One day during breakfast, Shawn reached across the table, took my hand and asked me to have his child. My heart sunk. I couldn’t speak. My home was almost complete, I knew I would spend the rest of my life with this man, and now my final dream was on its way to becoming true. A child to call my own, to love forever. I said yes immediately and began to cry.
It wasn’t long after moving into my new home I realized I was pregnant. At first I had an easy pregnancy. No morning sickness, a perfect complexion, and not much weight gain. What more can an expectant mom ask for?
I soon learned things don’t always work out as planned. On June 7th of 2001 I was rushed to the emergency room. It couldn’t be, I still had 6 weeks to go. Preparations began for the delivery of my daughter. I should have known things weren’t right during the past few days when I was dripping fluids. I was too embarrassed to go to the doctor only to have them tell me it was just my bladder. This dream had now become a nightmare. Was I about to lose the one thing that would complete me? After hours of procedures and lying flat on my back, Brooke was born. A scary emergency cesarean section included losing Brooke six times. Weighing only 3.5 pounds she held on and was determined to survive. Things were looking better for the both of us. Four weeks passed with Brooke in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit with the best of the best watching over her. I had faith in the nurses, doctors and in God. It was the greatest day of my life when I got the news I could bring my baby home.
I never gave up on my dream. As I sit here eight years later in my perfect house, with my hot husband, holding my healthy child, I truly believe dreams do come true.
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