I'm curious what happened to the very real and inspiring "Brody." Well, I guess maybe this is the part where I make my assumptions, my hypothesis, if you will for the most logical and plausible ending.
Based on past experiences... Unfortunately there really aren't many happy endings. It's surreal looking back. My oldest baby is 18 years old tomorrow. My youngest is 7 years old. Since my youngest was born I've had a lot of struggles and to be honest I can count on only one hand the number of times I have stayed meth free for more than a month since that birth. I can't believe THAT... OMG. THAT CANNOT BE ACCURATE. Surely I've not been so wrapped up in it that I can't even defintively say the 'when, how, where, why, why not, how long, etc. WOW. Perhaps I just went blank. Perhaps it's because that is just a figuratively non-existent 7 years. Is it a 7-year-blank?' NOW, I definitely have a sick feeling in my stomach, anxiety pain in my chest, and I feel a sense of sorrow sadness and loss. Mostly though I feel total disgust... from and of ME. I feel like I cheated an innocent little person, my own, of me. So I wonder What the heck was I thinking? I can that my sweet baby has not had the COMPLETE happy fun loving affectionate nurturing mother that my first child had. You know I was a very lovely young stay-home-mommy during those first 3 years of my oldest child's life. Back then, my days highlight would be a new recipe, and playing with a sweet little angel ALL DAY LONG. I doted on her and I really felt like she was my reason for EXISTING, for just 'being.' I had the 3, 6 and 9 months birthday parties, her baby book is as close to perfect as anything could be. Every page with intricately handwritten stories and/or descriptions, bandaids pics, locks of hair, special certificates, newspaper clippings, cards, stories, little tiny bows still sticky from karo syrup. But the best part, I think, are letters that are sealed in envelopes. Letters I wrote every 3 months from 1995-1997, for her to one day open and read hopefully with me right there reading and reliving that time with her. I recall a picture in my mind, of maybe a few tears but 100 times as many smiles and laughs. The letters were to guide her, to express my unconditional love you know all those wonderful 'BTW's' that loving parents share with theirs. SOO, stomach just turned and I think I am about to.. I got to... Finish later my apologies. I hate this more than I even realize. I am sitting on my bathroom floor getting sick, it will pass, it's actually not the drug, RATHER NOT HAVING IT. My cross to bear. Although I can't shake the idea that it will one day will be someone else's cross to bear... For my actions. I never would want my problems to become a type of THORN in my child's SIDE, nor THEIR cross to bear.
I can't be as bad a person as I feel I am right now. Darn me... that's really because what I mean is... DAMN ME!
I'll get back later I'd like to finish what I started- for once in my life..? Idk why I said that! Goofy old hag.. lqtm. Sick again.ttyl Ty for your time

While I'm here sick... I need to mention a part that is troubling me... that book I spent so much time and poured my heart into. My first child's baby book... A perfectly told story covering her first 5 years... and then it dawns on me-
My youngest doesn't even have a baby book! Now this is a personal moment of clarity that really I'd rather just BLOCK-OUT. I must be a horrible person... But I KNOW I am NOT.. . I do feel horrible in my mind though... Sorry y'all :.. ( sorry to my baby bear mostly. Darn me.