Yesterday was my oldest girls birthday. I had gained 81 pounds during that pregnancy, I was 20 years old. She was the only child who got a "themed" nursery, it was Winnie the Pooh and darling. When I went into labor, my husband and I got into the car, an AMC Javelin-orange with black pin stripes that Daave would love, at 2:00am and the damn battery was dead. He was 21 years old and freaked out. I did not know that he would die in a wreck one month later and that for the first time in my young life I would discover the power of alcohol to sooth my bitter and aching soul. The memory of that night with the dead car battery did not come back to me until about 15 years ago and it is now a warm funny memory. Sobriety has allowed me to remember back with a smile instead of the stabbing pain. I think that God allows a really sweet remembrance to pop in my head every now and then to show me that there was a lot of good before the bad started. Anyway, my daughters birthday is always bitter sweet for me.
I am grateful that God took my hand and lead me out of the self imposed hell I was living in and that bitterness is not a part of my life today. That "no fair" is no longer in my vocabulary. That God could and would if her were sought.