How I got here...

I never knew he would be mine. If I had known he would have never came into my life. I had no intention of doing this alone. Some say I planned it. I need the welfare or the support or whatever, but that was never once a thought that occurred to me as I presented the positive pregnancy test to my fiancée. I cried. I was not sad really, but I was very worried that I was going to have a fifth child when I could barely take care of the four I had alone. He reassured me that we were getting married and he was happy. We would get through it together and he was a sign from God that we were even more meant to be. A couple months later, I almost lost him. Twice in one day the blood came pouring out and it was in that moment I realized how much he meant to me. I didn't know for certain that he was a boy, but since I only had gotten sick with my first son, I assumed he was a boy also. He was. When I saw his little vivid body and heartbeat on the ultrasound machine for the first time I cried. He was alive. He was alright and I wanted him. I loved him more than anyone at that moment. I spent months on bed-rest, keeping him alive. I wanted my son to be born healthy. His dad was amazing. He held my hand, rubbed my back and helped with my other four children that he claimed as his own. He talked to my tummy and played music for our son. Never once did he deny him, or seem sad that he had proposed. Then, one day, things changed. Without warning, I received a break up text message. Sorry, I just don't love you anymore. And I am sorry to do this to your daughter. Oh and I want a DNA test. I broke down instantly. A DNA test for the baby we made while being completely in love and engaged. Not only had I never cheated on him, but I had opened up in a way I didn't know I could with him. If he did not love the real me, then perhaps something was wrong with me. Out of no where, I got sick. Started vomiting. Nothing I ate or drank would stay down and our son was due in three weeks. I was alone. Broken. Extremely sick.  With no one to take care of my other four kids, I watched my house get trashed by my four small children and I was too sick to get up and even take care of them. It was the single most selfish thing I had ever seen a "man" do. He could not wait until our son was born? As I laid in the hospital for the third time in four days getting fluids, I bawled. Our son's heart-rate kept dropping, I could barely walk, and I was so tired, but had no intention of sleeping. Finally, I decided to just have a c-section. I had hit my emotional breaking point. I did not want him anymore. My son was no longer a happy memory for me, but rather he had become a burden I didn't want to bare. I considered giving him to his father. Just sign off, you have to love him enough to let him go, you can't take care of a fifth child on your own. You are trying to go to school. You have no job and you will never be able to deliver the opportunities he deserves. However, baby daddy wanted him, which meant that this man that broke up with me via text message and clearly was not ready to be a father after all, was also not ready to care for his son like he claimed.  So when he arrived I allowed myself to get attached. I breastfed him. I brought him home. I don't regret it. I don't regret a single night of missed sleep. I don't regret watching him smile at his siblings. I love his laugh. I love the way he has a single freckle on his toe. I just adore the son I prayed for and saved and love. I love him and my other four kids and I would NOT change a thing.