I continued living a fast and dangerous lifestyle until I discovered I was pregnant at age 27. I was married, but since I was a REAL alcoholic/addict, it wasn’t my husband’s child. I knew that I needed to make some changes to how I was living, so I stopped dropping acid as soon as I knew about the baby, and cut out the drinking soon after.
The pregnancy went easily enough. I loved the idea of having a baby growing in my belly, and I had dreams of finally being loved by someone who wouldn’t leave or betray me.
I began attending IOP classes at about 4 1/2 months pregnant, and after that was over, I moved into a residential Mother/baby program. My clean/sober date fell when I was 6 months along (I wasn’t ready to give up the weed at the same time I quit everything else, so that took a little longer), on Thanksgiving of 1992. I wasn’t elated about going into the program, living with so many other (CRAZY) women, but it made sounded to me that it was my best option. I had enough sense to recognise that my child was going to need the best that I could give (him), and getting clean and sober in a place that would take care of us both sounded like a brilliant idea.
God used that tiny boy to teach my battered and scarred heart how to REALLY love.
A week after my son was born, I was out at a meeting picking up my 3 month chip. We were still living at the Residential treatment place, and I was starting to become familiar with the little guy.
I came in and found the woman who ran the place, sitting with my boy laying under blankets, on her chest. She said “The poor little thing just can’t get warm.” So she instructed me to take him and lay down with him on my chest, under some blankets, until he got warm. She was a Nurse, and I was learning to take directions. It was probably around 10 pm. I did what she told me and we tried to go to sleep. At about 4 am, after a sleepless night, I went to the office to the staff on the night shift to see what she thought. I found out later that she used to work at the local Children’s Hospital and it was no coincidence that she was working that night.
She took one look at my baby and told me to get my coat on.
We went to the closest hospital and they swept him into the Emergency Room quicker than I’d ever seen anyone go in. He didn’t even go through triage. After a few minutes, the nurse told me that he was going to be taken to the Children’s Hospital by ambulance because they couldn’t help him there…
If you missed the first post, you can find it here http://www.abbieinwondrland.com/2016/09/17/one-grrls-story/