Authors: Ellen Hopkins
Tags: #Psychopathology, #Young Adult Fiction, #Psychology, #Family, #Drug abuse, #Family problems, #Social Issues, #Drugs; Alcohol; Substance Abuse, #General, #Parents, #Addiction, #Fiction, #Juvenile Fiction, #Novels in verse, #Problem families, #Romance, #Dating & Sex, #Health & Fitness, #Schools, #Cocaine abuse, #Pregnancy & Childbirth, #High schools, #Pregnancy
that her boyfriend was to become a grandpa.
* *
8) My ultrasound--seeing a heart, beating strong inside me.
Having my doctor
inform me that my baby was all in one piece, then
suggest I shop "blue."
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7) school counselor,
Mrs. Green, arranging a home-study program to let me graduate
right on schedule.
(Six days before I gave birth!)
* *
6) Calling Grandma, expecting a lecture and getting one-- about how every baby, regardless of circumstances, is an angel on a special mission.
* *
5) Scott's losing his anger
long enough to teach
me to drive. Getting
my driver's license when
Grandma left me her obnoxious (but mint) '75 LTD.
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4) Jake, sharing his Internet
research on fetal
development. Did you
know that a fertilized
egg, 36 hours old, is the size of a pinhead?
* *
3) Sorting through 35,000 names in the
Dummy's Guide
to
Naming Your Baby,
opting for the strong, masculine moniker
Hunter Seth.
* *
2) Epidurals. I meant to do
Lamaze, really I did, but I managed to miss
most of the classes.
Here's to labor, without unimaginable pain!
* *
And...
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T
he #1 Best Thing
about those seven months:
* *
Holding
my baby for the first time, knowing just how to do it.
* *
Thinking his red, scrunched-up face was really quite handsome.
* *
Unwrapping the blanket to count fingers, eyes, ears, and toes,
* *
Finding
all twenty-four, precisely
where they ought to be.
* *
Crying because suddenly, for the first time in a very long time, everything felt right.
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Lows
10) Morning sickness. Puking
my guts out as soon as I lifted my head from the pillow, each and every day for weeks and weeks.
* *
9) Listening to Mom and Scott
argue. About me.
About the baby.
About the odds of it being some
sort of freak.
* *
8) Trying to quit tobacco after learning how
every puff made
my baby's heart
stop beating. How
could I be so hooked?
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7) Going to school (before
my "condition" became
obvious) an outsider.
Knowing my old
friends and I had
lost all common ground.
* *
6) Boredom. The succession of little-to-do
days, stretching
longer and longer toward the longest
day of the year.
* *
5) Long letters from Chase.
USC was great.
The football team was great. Los
Angeles was great.
Great enough to call it home.
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4) My dad's silence. He did call
once, to confirm Linda
Sue's tale. Then not a word, as if not talking about it could make the "problem" disappear.
* *
3) Losing Grandma, just when
I'd found her again.
A waterfall of flowers
brightened her funeral, but they couldn't disguise the stench of death.
* *
2) My water breaking, mid-Walmart...
Contractions, uterine lightning
bolts, striking
immediately and not letting up for 18 hours.
* *
And...
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The
#1 Worst Thing
about those seven months:
* *
My steady, needful, forever
relationship with the monster.
* *
Learning
that "addiction" is much more than a buzzword.
* *
Discovering
how very much it applied to my "me first" psyche.
* *
Struggling
not to give in to inner voices
much stronger than my own.
* *
Winning
most of the time, gritting my
teeth and "just saying no."
* *
Losing in those moments
when the world
I'd created for myself
closed in around me.
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H
appy Endings
I'd like to give you one.
But I'm not really sure
how this story ends myself.
* *
Being a mother is hard.
A lot harder than I imagined.
My baby boy is beautiful.
I sense an Old Soul within him.
* *
But he cries a lot and he doesn't really sleep like a newborn should. No lectures, okay? I accept my part.
* *
I watch my mom with my son, loving him, as she must have
loved me. She's patient when he cries. She paces him to sleep.
* *
I wish I could be like that. But
I'm only 17. I feel like life is passing
me by as I stand here on the deck, listening to him fuss inside.
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Sometimes I want to curl up in a ball and roll away. Sometimes
I just want to die. I only know one
thing that can make me laugh again.
* *
Crank is more than a drug.
It's a way of life. You can
turn your back. But you can
never really walk away.
* *
The monster will forever speak to me. And today, it's calling me out the door.
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