My Story

From Pre-Birth to Two Years Old

My dad walked out during my mum's pregnancy with me. It was around 2 months before my birth when he left us.

Thinking about it now makes me realise how much work and effort single parents take on, and not just physically but mentally, emotionally and socially. Special mention to any single parents, you guys take on a lot of responsibility and are so faithful to your kids. If you have a parent who was a single parent at any point, you should thank them because in the moments when they thought about throwing the towel in, they kept going just for YOU. Don't ever think you aren't loved because a parent walked away, because this only means that the other loved you so much that they were willing enough to stick by you through the tough. Be grateful for them.

Fast forward to the day I entered the world officially:

I'm gonna give it to you bluntly: I'm not supposed to be here today. I wasn't supposed to leave my mothers womb alive. The nurse said to my mother, as she was in labor with me these words:

"She's not gonna make it. Nope, she's not gonna survive."

Shortly after she that, I guess I wanted to prove her wrong just to annoy her and popped on out fully functional. My mum called me the 'Miracle Baby', because not only did I survive, but I reckon I made her Mothers Day a lot better too! Yep, I was born at 3.30pm on the 12th of May 2002, Mothers Day.

Mum struggled with the idea of raising two babies on her own, (especially at the early age of 22) but she is the strongest person I know for staying from then to now.

My mum is a strong, independent woman who today, I am extremely similar to in so many different ways. She always cared for us and during her pregnancy with me, when she thought she could no longer go on, she kept faith and put food in her mouth solely because she knew I needed it. While all of her "friends" were out partying, mum was most likely home trying to get a crying baby to sleep. My mum still reminds me of this more and more everyday because she would sacrifice anything for my siblings and I.

The first two years of my life I spent alongside my mum and my older sister Gemma (14 months age gap). I was raised and surrounded by my two loving grandparents and my mum's incredible brother and sister (both still teenagers at the time).

I spent most of the time between my family's house and my grandparents house. Life was busy for everyone but we would always stop by for the occasional dinner together or a trip to the local park or often the trip to McDonalds, just a few short streets down from my grandparents house.

My family was confusing, yes, but one of the most nurturing groups of people I know. I found love and a great childhood from the care of the people around me.

Mum always wanted me to know who my dad was. She didn't want me wondering who I came from and why I didn't know him anymore. A lot of parents do this to protect their child (understandable, yes, but it leaves the child confused and with a sense of curiosity in part of who they are) but my mum wanted me to know and remember that part of who I was.

My sister, Gemma, was a bubbly and bright character (and she still is). My closest friend, my play buddy and my partner in crime. Together, we were either a mothers worst nightmare or the type of child who would get compliments off of strangers for being "polite and diligent". I don't think much has changed since then.

My family around me were all Christian and faithful, but I was the type of child to enter church every Sunday only to sit in the crèche, play with toys and leave with morning tea stuffed in my hands. It's hard to have a faith when the food afterwards tastes so good, that you're looking forward to church ending.

Babies are interesting, in fact, I find babies fascinating. I'm obsessed by the way they think and take in the world. It's incredible when a baby has the amazing discovery of their hands and feet.
Unlike most normal babies, as an 18 month old baby, I was more fascinated by the idea that chocolate malt balls could be eaten in hand fulls at a time. I guess I was just hungry but after shoving three Maltesers down my throat, one after the other, I wasn't so hungry. I was choking for quite a bit, struggled to breathe and mum had to reach her fingers down my throat to get some sticky, half chewed chocolates out of my mouth. That's commitment in my eyes! As much as we laugh about it now, I know if that was happening to my child, I wouldn't stay that calm.

My mum is my rock. She never once even considered leaving or giving up on us. Shoutout to her for even inspiring me to write this.

Overall, I spent my first few years of life being a happy baby and taking for granted the spoon-fed days. Cheeky, independent, sleepy and clever were words used to describe me as a small child.

Not too long after this, we found him.

Next part: From Three to Seven Years Old