One of the most important aspects of my life is being Samson’s mother. When I found out I was pregnant, as ignorant as it might sound, I felt as though he meant something important to the world. Or at least the people around me.
I reconnected with Samson’s father a couple years after the death of Megan, Samson’s fathers sister and also one of my close friends. When she died, it shook my world. I felt terrified at the lack of stability any of us actually have. Megan was kind of the glue that kept our friend group together. She got me my first professional job. She put up with my unpredictable behavior and I terribly enjoyed her sense of humor. In the aftermath, I really wanted to put my life together. I didn’t want to waste anymore time doing nothing.
A couple years went passed and I was fresh out of an abusive marriage that I stayed in way too long to put up appearances, when I ran into Samson’s father. I was so broken emotionally and Aaron’s (Samson’s father) intense love bombing was so easy for me feed into. Despite the fact that he wasn’t that intelligent, Aaron was sweet to me. In those first couple weeks, we mostly talked about his sister between binge drinking sessions.
I had planned a trip to New Orleans because it was my 26th birthday and honestly I’d never been with someone I’ve dated before. On the second day of the trip, we went out for morning margaritas but I had ran by a cvs and got a pregnancy test. So in the restaurant bathroom I took it so I could guilt free drink because I was maybe 4 days late at this point. I didn’t think anything of it to be honest. When the results came back immediately to pregnant I was in a state of shock. I couldn’t handle this. I just sold my car six months prior and was working at a grocery store making cold pressed juices. Mentally I wasn’t that well at all. I used alcohol as a band aid for everything. I immediately felt protective though. I didn’t drink my drink I had ordered and took it to go. I didn’t know how to process the information or what I should do, so I told Aaron jokingly almost. Then clarified I wasn’t joking. I asked if he would sit down with me on the street.
Aaron said there wasn’t anyway he could have a baby. I was hurt even though it was obvious he was in no position to have a child. I made jokes about naming the baby while we sat in a bar in the French quarter. I was mad at myself for even taking the test so early on in my trip that it kind of ruined it as I felt awful about drinking more than a sip. I just wanted to go home. I wanted to be at home with someone I trusted. It felt like... that didn’t even exist. That place that I wanted to go.
Over the next 10 months, Aaron was in and out of the picture. He was doing more drugs. Going on benders. Ghosting me for months at a time. I moved back in with my mom because I was scared and alone. I also didn’t have a car anymore so I was completely isolated but I was super low functioning depressed. When I was working, I felt like everyone thought I was an idiot for having a child in my position. I would cry in the small break room a couple times a shift and I just couldn’t do it anymore.
At my moms alone for six or so months, I went through so many emotions. I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy. My abusive ex would text me about what a loser I had become and how fat I was going to be. I was so alone. I felt like I needed someone to love me so bad. I went to mostly all my doctors appointments alone. I couldn’t even have an earnest conversation with anyone without choking on my own words with the sadness pressing to be let out.
It was too much for anyone to take. When it was time to have Samson, Aaron and his mom showed up after a bender and just passed out on the floor and in a chair while I was in labor. I had my first bit of empowerment and asked them to leave the room. Aaron’s mom kicked a chair across the room but I didn’t respond. I was over it. I didn’t need anyone anymore. Aaron missed his chance to be there for me. I let him back in when I was ready to push but he didn’t even want to cut the umbilical cord. My mom did it and said it was the happiest day of her life. That moment.
Samson was perfect from the moment he was born. I didn’t have to worry about myself anymore. I was meant to care for him. I took it on like a job and just didn’t think and just kept going. At first, I kept an emotional distance from Samson in those first months. I was afraid of him dying. I couldn’t handle that level of devastation. Samson mostly would look around. Wouldn’t cry much. At night, I’d wake up to just see his big grey blue eyes latched onto mine. Sometimes I didn’t even feel worthy of his love. But if I could do anything... it was work.
So I kept throwing myself into work. When one thing didn’t pan out favorably, I already had other projects going. I’d never worked so hard and consistently for myself before. I wanted him to have a good life so badly. At around one year old, I noticed his speech was very odd. Like talking with a rag in your mouth. Samson wouldn’t look at me much anymore like when he was a baby. I kept not talking about my concerns because that would make them real and ... I wasn’t sure what to do. At two years, I started trying to bring up my concerns to others who had seen or played with Samson. Everyone kept agreeing but that everyone develops differently. So I started researching more and looking at my options. Options were expensive IF there was a problem. I needed to get him tested though. Testing starts through Dallas ISD at 3 years old. So I waited and also hoping that his speech and his social skills would improve.
Nothing really changed with Samson, so at 3 years old, I got him into PreK 3, where from there I could request free testing. His results came back (which are obviously just their best observation) that he was on the spectrum, intellectually challenged and speech issues. Even though I thought that... the news brought me so much selfish emotional pain. Like I just wanted him to have a good life. One better than mine. I love him so much and he’s the only person that’s ever loved me back. It wasn’t fair.
Coming to terms with the diagnosis, while being so busy at work, events, and sleep, the sadness comes and goes. I know it’s in no way a death sentence but we have little dreams for our children. I don’t want his life to be any harder than it has to be. Life was hard on me.
Towards the end of last year, I had a breakdown. Multiple reasons. I’ve just been carrying so much sadness with me for so long. I’ve been broke. I’ve exhausted resources. I’m constantly trying. Being a single parent is ... I was naive in not knowing from my mother how hard it would be and now with Samson having difficulty in communicating and not being able to afford all the things that could help him...
I’m not about asking for a hand out. But it would mean a world of financial difference, since I don’t naturally have a large social media reach, to play and share my attempt at a podcast. It’s free for you to do but could potentially change our lives.
Thank you so much for any and all help I have received thus far and thanks for reading. And a great huge thank you to all the mothers making a difference in our children’s lives.