I grew up with a wonderful mom who was born with Cystic Fibrosis. It's a lung disease that causes access mucus in all organs of your body but generally located in the lungs. The average life expectancy is 20 years. She was my best friend. Just absolutely stunning. I strive to be the mother she was to me. Anyway, I grew up taking care of her. I was jealous of everyone who had healthy mommies. Moms who could run around and play with them. But I knew I wouldn't trade my mom for the world.
Anyway, long story short.. She had a double lung transplant when I was 11, and passed away right before my 16th birthday. Cause of death was chronic rejection of the lungs.
I spiraled into a bad depression after she died. I did every drug possible. I did lots of heroin. Smoked a ton of weed. You know... Practically killed myself every day. I barely graduated high school (at least I did, right?) haha. okay okay, not funny. But seriously, I was a fucking idiot. At that time, drugs were the only escape I had. I never thought I'd be one of those people to get addicted to hard drugs. I was too nice, too fragile, I loved God too much. I don't know what I was thinking. I don't regret it though. It took me hitting rock bottom to realize I needed to change. When I was doing heroin, I was taking advantage of the second chance I already got after almost dying in a car accident.
I was young, stupid, depressed. I just wanted my mother. Her name was Heather. She was born August 1st, 1969. 39 years old when she passed. Way too early. Fuck. I'm crying. Nice Lex.
Anyway, I moved to the middle of no where to change my life. I went through withdrawals by myself. Cold sweats. Muscle and joint pain, crying, even screaming it hurt so bad. It was then I realized I was physically addicted. It wasn't just in my head. I felt like I was dying. I was by myself. I never went to rehab, or the hospital. But I've been clean since then if that's any consolation!! 4 months after moving to Indiana I met the love of my life... Gerad. It takes a strong man to take in a broken woman. But that's just what he did. He welcomed me in with open arms. He showed me how to enjoy life again. He taught me things. He made me feel happy. He doesn't realize it, but he saved my life.
One day I wasn't sad anymore. I was clean. I felt pretty again. I felt happy, because of him.
11 months of dating and I find out I'm pregnant!! We were over joyed. Deep down I was fucking terrified! I'm going to be someone's momma! What?!?! I mean by this point in my life I was clean for a 16 months. Drugs never even crossed my mind. I had a full time job, I worked out, ate healthy, I was happy. So what could be the problem? Oh yeah I started having panic attacks. 5 of them sent me to the hospital while pregnant. Awesome. I was always worried whether Lyla was healthy or not. I was a mess. I had a love hate relationship with pregnancy. Mostly hate.
Anyway, August 1st, 2013, Lyla Faith Moore was born. The same day as my mom. That moment everything connected. I knew my mom was watching over me. Lyla filled that while I had in my heart. She completed me. So, that's my story I guess.
And here I am today, sitting in the back seat with her on our first family trip to Nashville. She's almost 7 months old. And time sure does fly. I'm going to enjoy this. So I guess I'm going to stop writing. I'm just gunna watch my beautiful daughter look out the window at all the pretty trees. She's mesmerized, and she looks so beautiful. Moments like this are what makes me feel happy. The simple but good times.
Thank you Gerad, and thank you Lyla for saving my life.
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