My story begins a little different than most. It begins when I was a baby and ends with my third pregnancy.
I was born addicted to cocaine. After several near-death experiences and lots of battles, five months later I would face one of the biggest battles of my life: being placed in a trash can to die in 32 degree weather. Luckily for me, a man who is my guardian angel found me and rushed me to a local hospital, where I spent the next seven months recovering.
On the day of my first birthday, my new mom and dad picked me up. Oh, the life they gave me! I could have never asked for more loving parents than they. And I can remember the stories I heard about my struggles that first year. I respect my parents for always being 100% honest with me. I can remember telling myself that when I had a child, it would receive more love than I could probably give it, but it would know that it was wanted and welcomed into this world.
As I reached adulthood, I got married at the age of 19, only to be diagnosed with cancerous tumors over my left ovary. After two surgeries, I was informed that I would probably never be able to have children. How could this be? The only thing I have looked forward to after marriage and now I am being told no. I was on a mission. I started trying right away and was so excited to learn three months later that I was pregnant.
