Post #7 ~Part 1 -The Lies I Told Myself as a New Mom

A couple of months before I turned 20, I found out I was pregnant with my first son, Hunter. December 10, 1998. I still remember the exact day.

His father and I were both addicts. We weren’t even together when I found out because he still wanted to use. I had tried to step away from that chaos. When I told him I was pregnant, everything changed.

But nothing really changed.

My best friend Lisa told me I was courageous. She was already a single mom and knew how hard that road could be. She said choosing to have Hunter, knowing I might raise him alone, took strength.

I didn’t feel strong.

I felt terrified.

We tried to make it work. I wanted the picture of a family. I wanted stability. But it became clear quickly that he wasn’t done using.

If I’m honest, neither was I.

After Hunter was born, I stopped breastfeeding so I could get loaded again. I told everyone my milk had dried up. That’s how addiction works. It gives you just enough justification to live with yourself.

But here’s the part I’m proud of.

I didn’t spiral. I didn’t go back to the streets. I decided that if one of us was going to be responsible, it had to be me. Hunter deserved at least one stable parent.

His father asked me to marry him. I told him that just because we had a child together didn’t mean we were getting married. I was young, but I understood something important.

Love does not fix addiction.

When he tried to steal a check my grandmother had sent for a car, I asked him to move out.

And for the first seven years of Hunter’s life, I did not get loaded. I stayed present. I stayed functional. I stayed in control.

I couldn’t understand why I could give it up so easily while others, including his dad, couldn’t.

What I didn’t realize was this:

I hadn’t beaten addiction.

I had just put it on pause.

And addiction is patient.

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