Grips.

I think this is more for me than anyone else and, if given enough thought, I may even hide this entire post eventually... It's pretty personal, and I can't help but feel a little selfish about it.

But this is how I feel.

I wouldn't say I "miss" the life I was living a year ago. It was the typical, teenage kind of come-and-go-as-I-please with little-to-no responsibilities other than school and work. School, at that time, seemed more "optional" to me then. (I have now, of course, made my academic excellence near top priority upon my return.) I wasn't a bad student at all, but I could have been even greater had I really applied myself. My days at work were inconvenient at best, but they allowed me to assume monetary independence when it came to my car, insurance, gas, food, blow money, etc. ("Blow" as in "money to blow" and not "money for blow", mind you.)

My social life was amazing, to say the least, and had been ever since I forced myself out of a previous, completely mutually parasitic relationship. I was finally who I'd always wanted to be. I had to answer to no one (aside from my parents, of course, because I was still living rent-free in their house). I went to class, hung out with friends, went to work, got off work, and then hit the club or whatever dance party was going on at the time. Unless I was staying with friends, I came home at a reasonable hour for someone my age (no later than 3-4 am on weekends, usually) and I always greeted my mom upon my safe arrival before crashing or texted her to let her know I had made it to bed in one piece. She trusted me to make the right decisions because she has been there first-hand with me every time I faced the consequences of the decisions I had made that weren't so great... She knew I had come a long way.

Despite the feeling I had of being totally care-free and young and loving the life I was living, I couldn't help but feel as though I was missing something. It wasn't that I wasn't surrounded by enough people who loved me or that I was unhappy... I just felt like I was going through the motions, routines, daily ins-and-outs of life simply for survival, simply to keep this ant colony buzzing along with no real purpose and nothing truly required of me. Yeah, I had dreams. I had big dreams (and still do), but I felt I really had no motivation to get them done in a timely manner. That's a good thing, I suppose, for someone who was my age and in my situation; I was deathly afraid of having all the good times pass me by just so that I could get my degree, be rich one day and end up working the rest of my life away.

At no point during this down time did I ever think getting pregnant would make me feel the opposite of what I had been feeling or would make anything better. At no point did I say to myself, "Hey, I'm gonna get pregnant today. That sounds like a great idea." If anything, I hadn't planned on having babies until I was married, and I hadn't planned on getting married until after I was out of school, had a stable career in tow, and was making payments on a nice car and a big damn house.

Well.

The funny thing about birth control is that when your biological mother birthed nine kids and there are obviously tons of seeds in the genetic pumpkin patch, it's really important to take it every day (maybe even at the same time every day). What's ironic is that I had missed more birth control during my previous relationship than I had the entire time Keeli's father and I spent together. I seriously missed a total of THREE days in the month of October. THREE. And I hadn't missed any before October. In my previous relationship, I had missed so much a couple times that my period began early or was out of whack completely. I guess Keeli's dad also excelled in the fertility department.

I know the day I had ovulated and knew that, since I'd had sex just that morning, I was going to be pregnant. I just sort of looked in the mirror in the bathroom and spoke to God, rather casually as I usually do and said, "Alright, Man. If this is what's going to happen, then You know best. I trust You, just don't let me screw my kid up."

November came and went without a period. I knew I was pregnant. I was still going out here and there just to sort of soak up what I could of the young scene but I was already withdrawing in my own ways. I was preparing myself for informing Keeli's father, my parents, the rest of my family, and my friends whom I knew I would probably never see again due to my changed focus in life. I slowly disappeared off the radar, quit answering text messages and calls, and I may as well have sold my car because I was staying at home. I didn't do so out of feeling the typical "woe is me" thing; I was doing it because I knew my life was about to change and I needed to change with it.

I never imagined, though, allowing myself to become this immersed in motherhood. I think had my brother (and Dr. Sears) not talked some sense into me, I would have ended up quarantining myself in my house just to prove to myself and everyone else that my only interest is on being a "good" mommy. I had a friend of mine tell me, early EARLY on in my pregnancy, that she didn't want to do anything without her baby because then she'd feel like a bad mommy. I think that may have flipped some sort of switch in my head and, essentially, brainwashed me.

Oh my God, I can't possibly do this, this or this because people will see me without my baby and think I've just pawned her off on my parents and then I'll look like the typical young mother who doesn't give two shits and I just can't have that.

Fine. Think that if you want. But until I got pregnant, I was constantly advising people about the importance of balance in their lives. How hypocritical is that, now? It's like I got pregnant and after a few weeks or so, I aimed to cut off an entire part of who I am because if I didn't, I felt like I would look like (not even initially feel, but appear to be) a bad mom.

Oh, there's that Ashley Free, out doing whatever she wants even though this may be her one night a month she gives herself to go out and enjoy the fact that she's still a young, attractive twenty year-old woman. She must be a bad mother.

Happy babies stem from happy mommies. I have been told that over and over and over. Who's to say I'll even enjoy being out again the first few times? I probably won't, honestly. But I know what's healthy for me and what isn't.

The idea I initially had of motherhood was that I would just be at home with her and that's it. There would be no way I would allow myself out of her sight because somewhere down the line I got the idea that's what good mommies do.

Well, that may be what some mommies do, but not this one.