Having my first child was a totally different experience than having my youngest son. I was fifteen, no husband of course, living with my parents and 4 brothers. I would pray before sleeping for God to give me a beautiful baby boy with blond hair, and blue eyes. I wanted him to look just like his father. I got a beautiful baby boy, with blue eyes. Like his father? In some ways.
My Father had moved us to Arkansas right after I had my baby. I quickly got back to my teenage self, allowing my mom to watch the baby while I did my teenage life. I quickly met a young man, he being 18. By the time I had turned 16, he 19, we were married. Long story short, this did not work out. We were married for 9 yrs when I packed up my son, and moved to Missouri to be with my baby’s father.
This was hard on my son, I remember him climbing onto my first husbands lap and asking him if he could stay with him. My own son. I felt so betrayed. It didn’t even cross my mind that he could have thought that if he stayed, I would stay. Then things could be normal again. He just wanted things to be normal.
This was the beginning of his downward spiral. He couldn’t get happy. He couldn’t be content. He had trusted in me, he had trusted in my first husband, this was the Father he knew and loved. I felt we had both failed in giving him the security he needed. The changes that I was bringing on to him was just too much for him to handle. A new husband, who was his biological father, a new brother, who was taking up a lot of the mom time that he was used to. I am sure that there were many things I will never know and understand about what was going on in the mind of my eldest son, and I am sure there were outside contributors to his decision that drugs would make everything better. In my mind tho, I felt it was me.
I would continue to battle this drug use of his. Thinking that my love was enough. My love was going to fix him, he would finally just look at his family, know the love we had for him and just quit. He would quit, go to college, find a wonderful girl, get married and things would be fine. No amount of love would fix him tho. So the battle, yes the battle, the war zone of drug use would infiltrate our home.