I Am Strong

*I've taken this idea from Birth Without Fear Blog. A blog that I follow and admire. Feel free to make your own post. Sometimes we take our selves for granted, put our own needs on the back burner. Sometimes we need to give our selves more credit.*

 I am strong because when I was 4 years old, my sisters and I lost our mother due to a heart attack. She was 28 years old. I learned what being the oldest meant that day.

 I am strong because a year or two later an uncle decided to put his hands on me like a woman. This would continue for years.

 I am strong because, though my dad wasn't there for us (bottled up in his own grief), my grandmother was and I learned what a real woman was.

 I am strong because I, and my sisters, endured harsh years of mental and physical abuse by my father and his girlfriend's hands.

 I am strong because through it all, we stuck together and forgave our father. Even after several failed suicide attempts in front of us.

 I am strong because the sexual abuse of one man led to others sexually exploiting me. It finally ended when I was 16.

 I am strong because I survived my own suicide attempts. Either by drugs, drinking, or self-mutilation.

 I am strong because at the age of 20 I met the love of my life. We were married within 6 months of dating. I felt safe and whole.

 I am strong because 3 months later I became pregnant with my first child. I gave birth to a boy at 28 weeks along.

 I am strong because, along with my husband, I endured a grueling recovery from an emergency c-section and 10 hopeful/ fearful days with my son in the NICU. He died on the last day.

 I am strong because instead of dying of grief in bed, I picked myself up and went to counseling. I forced myself to smile because it hurt less than thinking of what I had lost.

 I am strong because about 9 months later, we became pregnant again. My heart ached, my senses dulled. Fear became my friend.

 I am strong because even though I went into labor twice, developed Gestational Diabetes and Pre-E, and stayed on bed rest for 15 weeks at the hospital due to IC, at 35.5 weeks I gave birth (through c-section) to a healthy and happy 5lb 13oz baby boy.

 I am strong because two years, 3 months, and 8 days later that same baby boy is climbing the arm of the couch and singing Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.

 And even though I still struggle with my weight, self-esteem, depression, and now Diabetes, I am a survivor. I persevered. I am living. I am strong.