For Single Moms
Monday, March 22, 2010
By: Michelle Wiginton

Laboring Into Life

The constant electronic beeping of my heart echoed that of my unborn child, growing faster and harder as the night wore on. The monitors that embraced my swollen body, like the tentacles of a metal octopus, kept trying to drag me into the murky depths of unconsciousness. The cold, reaching sleeves of steel dragged me in and out of the black world of confusion and fear as the agonizing screams of another young girl were magnified in my ears—only that other girl was me.

I could not take the sounds of terror anymore, the pain consuming everything but my mind, so I retreated there. Smiling through the sweat that was rolling down my face, I felt the chilled breeze that promised snow was coming to the Missouri Ozarks of my past. Laughing like a child, I stomped through the forest and stopped to silently admire the delicate balance of snow on even the smallest branch. Then, the branches changed to black solid bands grasping at me and ripping me painfully back to the Oklahoma hospital where the searing spasms in my body made me feel as if I would soon be split open like a ripe watermelon left too long in the sun.

I spent an eternity in those seven hours, journeying far beyond the blue walls of my torturous prison to other places, only to come crashing back with startling clarity. Why did I desire escape? Why was I not embracing the life I was about to bring forth? Because 20 years of wistful dreaming was being shattered by a choice I made on the night of March 5, 1988. In a desperate plea for love, I chose to let a man unworthy of my affection and devotion push me to make a decision that would forever change the direction of my life.

The doctors and nurses chatted endlessly about Thanksgiving dinners and family plans, while discussing the hottest toys for Christmas that year. Time existed for me only in the broken record of people I can no longer picture counting slowly to ten as my contractions grew stronger and longer each time. The pain of loss and rejection I felt that cold, spring night reverberated a thousand times over in my heart during the next nine months and crescendoed at 4:42 am, November 30, 1988.

A friend at the time, whom I have not seen in years now, had recently lost her last child and was the only familiar face to share this priceless moment with me—when two souls are separated and then introduced. This special time, which is meant to be part of the life-long bond of parents and child, was a moment passed in the gut-wrenching heartache of rejection that hurt more than any physical pain ever could. As my son’s first cries screamed the silent pain I could not give voice to, I retreated inside where only I could still feel the aching agony in every fiber of my being.

The shock and weight of the impending role of a “single mother” robbed me of even being able to hold or look at my child right away and I asked that he be taken away until I could deal with my broken and battered thoughts and emotions. Alone and very scared, God threw me a lifeline in the form of a precious, little boy with strawberry red hair and ocean blue eyes. As the tiny sleeping bundle was brought into my recovery room and placed into my arms, I gazed in wonder at the gift that was being entrusted to my care and I slowly and reverently began to unwrap my unexpected present given during an event that was anything but celebratory. All pink and wrinkly, smelling like only a baby can, I branded my son, Halston Grant (which means “blessed greatly”), with my tears and I vowed to make sure he never suffered for my bad choice. I now had the love I had so desperately sought less than a year before, although my love could never keep my son from suffering a sense of loss for the rest of his life. Amazingly, Halston does not dwell on his lack of a father and, seemingly, celebrates the bond that we share even more so than other sons and mothers.

When the pediatric nurse came to take my precious son back to the nursery, she practically had to pry him from my loving arms. It only took a few seconds of gazing at God’s creation to give me the strength to exhale the pain of a lover’s rejection and inhale the innocent love of a child. All alone in my sterile hospital room, devoid of flowers, family or friends, I celebrated the new spirit that God had placed inside me and then brought forth to share with and with which to bless the rest of world.

I finally had something that was truly mine to treasure, someone to love and be loved by in return, and a kindred spirit to celebrate life with every day. Yes, I agonized inside when a smiling nurse came to me and asked if the baby’s father would be able to partake of the traditional “New Parents’ First Night Out” steak dinner provided by the hospital, but I said “No” without a waiver. I was not the same person who had entered the hospital the day before, but having my stepmother pick me up and quickly share a meal prepared for two in the hospital’s “blue room” still clinched at my heart. This meal was meant to be shared by those celebrating the new life of two loves, not the venerable emotion of a lost soul and a new life clinging to each other with blind need.

I flamed with shame as I filled out my son’s birth certificate and purposefully left the father’s name blank. I was disappointed when family and friends seemed embarrassed whenever my child was discussed. I was angry that I shouldered the burden alone. For the first time in my life, I could not retreat back into myself because I had someone else to care for and love. I have now been a mother for 21 years and I can say with no uncertainty that my son is truly the only reason I am still here on this earth and writing these words. Giving birth is just the beginning, especially as a single parent. I will not say that the road I have traversed from there to here has been all that fun, exciting or easy, but it has been well worth it. I have been so far down that the only thing between me and meeting God face-to-face was Halston. Loneliness can eat away at your insides and cause you to give up on life, but love can and does fill you up…if you let it.

Years of attempted father/son activities still blow cold through the caverns of my soul, but the light in my son’s eyes when he knows that I have tried warms me inside. I cannot change or make up for the choices I made that have impacted him, or others for that matter, but I can take each day for what it is worth and try to make the best of what I have at that time. Remember, some choices affect us for a minute, like what to have for dinner. Some choices will affect us for a week, like where to go for vacation. But, some choices will affect us for the rest of our lives. God can bring about good from our poor choices, but I find myself wondering, from time to time, what my life would have been like had I not made the choice that I did so many years ago—slowly exhaling, I leave the past behind and look to the future. Where are your eyes focused?

Here is my Halston Grant!

Comments

WOW! I was greatly inspired by your article. Thanks for sharing... God bless you and Halston- Sarah

SARAH, Wednesday, March 24, 2010

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--> I was truly touched by your story and I only hope that I can find the strength to continue on my journey as well. I have walk in your shoes as well as I believe I still am. My daughter is now 10 months but the emotional pain of dealing with a rejected love has left me weak at my knees, and placing empty pieces of my puzzle together again. I feel relieve knowing that while my journey has begun that one day I can exhale and feel relieved by my poor choices and perhaps look back at my past and truly let it go. Thank you so much for your story because I think I have right now step off that ledge and given myself time for healing instead of giving up all!

Jessica, Friday, March 26, 2010

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Wow,that was an amazing story. Thank you. I just gave birth to my daughter on March 13th, completely alone. I drove myself to the hospital, had her with only my Dr and 2 nurses present(luckily my entire labor took only 1hr and 53minutes), and drove myself home. I've done absolutely everything alone, and emotionally its been really tough, but looking at her gives me the inspiration to move forward and make sure that I am available to give her 200%. She deserves it. I never imagined being the single mother, but I definitely admire every single mother out there. We are a strong bunch. Thank you again for your story.

Kellie, Saturday, March 27, 2010

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I appreciate you sharing this with the world. In this day, single motherhood is more common, and even though we seek that companionship, our relationship with our child is all need. With the Lord, all things happen according to his plan. His will is not for us to suffer, but to see his grace and glory in time of darkness. When loneliness floods our minds we have to remember that our children are our blessing!

Brittney Lynes, Monday, March 29, 2010

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Thank you for sharing your story, I became a Mother @ 17, raised my son on my own and he is now starting college this fall...I could not be prouder, he is my joy, my pride & I don't know where I found the reserves to help guide him to the man he's became, I love him with my entire soul. I since, have became a Mother again, a spit fire of a little girl, I again am raising a child by myself. I feel my reserves are absolutely depleted and have just been lost over the last 18mo of her life, the fear and the pain of going through all of this alone again is almost unbearable, the questions to answer, the tears to wipe away from her sweet face, all to close in my memory...BUT, reading your story brought a tear to my eye & inspired me all the same. Thank you, I needed to stumble upon this.

Stacy, Thursday, April 01, 2010

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Thank you. It helps to know I am not alone. I had a friend and my mom help with my 24 hrs of labor before spending the next days alone in the hospital. You are not alone. I alone refused to see my son right at first. It is ery overwhelming after going through pregnancy alone and knowing the future. It is a quiet moment only others in your shoes know. I skipped lamaze cause I did not want to hear about dad and the birth certificate he did not deserve to be on. I did a bedrest and high risk pregnancy alone in my house with just my dogs. Emotionally it was torture. I raise my son alone and sometimes I wish I had support in my house and a helpig hand/dad. I am tired, exhausted, overwhellmed and he is only just under ten months old. His father never plans to met him or help with a penny. My heart breaks from it. It is me and my son against the world. I know it will help him to be a better peson in the longrun when he sees how we survive the next 17 years. I would not trade him in for anything and as hard as everyday is. My son would be worth it all over again. I only hope we have great sunny days ahead and a smiling face like your sons. We cannot change the choices others make. I feel my sons father is the one losing. And he instead is allowing me to get twice as much love from my son. But again at these moments we get frustrated and alone, it is nice to know you are all out there. Nice to know I am not the only one who looked at ultrasounds and heard beating sounds and sat in hospitals alone. I think when they say single parent, we need our own term and name. Because raising a child with zero support or help from the other parent makes us all the strongest people in the world. Enjoy your treasure an be grateful for every hug you do not have to share.

ANNA, Thursday, April 08, 2010

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