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The “Why”

No matter which self help book I've read, professional I've seen, friend I've confided in, or motivational speaker I've ever listened to, the most common topic I've heard brought up for any life change is the "why". The why is the reason the change needs to happen, and just like the rock bottom, is different for each person, and each change. Some people want to make life changes for personal reasons "I want to love my body", "I want to wear a two piece", "I want to be able to run again". Some people's whys are for profit "I want to create more product so I can make more sales". And some people have more than one why.

Being at the fat girl rock bottom I'm currently at there are obvious reasons that changes need to be made.

  • I won't live past 45 if I don't make changes

  • It'll only get harder to come up if I sit here and do nothing

  • I hate my body.

  • I don't want to be insecure anymore.

  • I want to love myself the way I want other people to love me.

  • I want to progress in life

But those why's are super basic, and clearly reason. But my personal why is a miracle all within herself. She's just under 3 feet tall and weighs in at just over 30 lbs. She was everything I never knew I needed, and came at what first seemed like the worst time of my life, but turns out to be more than perfect. Her name is Zabrina Monalisa and she is my daughter, my best friend, my inspiration, my biggest supporter, and my why.

My journey with Zabrina starts just about 19 years ago with her older brother Deshaun Ray. I had Deshaun when I was just 17. I was so young and had NO idea what I was in for, but I was as ready as I could be. Deshaun's father was (and is) a great supporter and even though teen pregnancy is never a good plan, I consider myself lucky for it to have happened with the person it did, because then I would never be able to face being a single mom. My family was as supportive as I could have hopped for, especially considering I was 16 when I found out I was pregnant.

Being a mom was the hardest adjustment I'd ever made.. I had NO clue what to do. But I managed to learn signs, cries, and established a semi routine that included still going to school, caring for my son, trying to be a good girlfriend and an adequate daughter/sister/friend. It was right around this time that the hatred for my body really established itself, and my overwhelming desire (and feeling of always failing) really established itself.

Almost 3 months after having Deshaun I woke one day to find Deshaun not breathing. I tried to wake up his father, and after that things are a daze. I remember heading for the bathroom, I knew there were medicines in there and my intention was to take them all. My motherly instincts were ripe and I knew my son was gone. This was a random day my dad was in the kitchen, which I had to walk through to get to the bathroom, he was cooking eggs and when he asked me why I was up, all I could do was start sobbing and say "He's not breathing Dad, Deshaun isn't breathing" My dad told me to call 911 and I felt like an idiot. Hope flashed through me and I grabbed the phone. The lady on the other end told me to get the baby and clear an area on the table and perform CPR. I did. I hoped. I wanted to badly to hear him breathe again. I opened his little onesie and there was a bruise on his chest, right under his nipple line and the exact size of my thumb.

I flashbacked to the day before when I had bathed him in the kitchen sink. He had kicked in joy and made that adorable little cooing noise he did when he was happy and I almost dropped him. I grabbed a bit harder to try to keep him from hitting his head and my thumb had bruised him a little. This was the reason he wasn't breathing, I killed my son.

Or that's what went through my head in the moment. The lady on the phone interrupted my thoughts and told me that help was on the way and I needed to stay with her. I was performing CPR on my tiny 3 month old son and it wasn't working. I heard the sirens, and next thing I knew I was pushed aside as the EMT started gathering. Again I was filled with hope. These were professionals, they would save him. They knew what they were doing.

I watched in horror as they what I felt manhandled my child. They put the oxygen hand pump thing on him and they tried everything they could. And in what seemed like only a second of trying. The shortest of the EMT's walked over to me and said "Ma'am What's your name" I sobbed as I could barely say "Angie" and he said "Angie, your baby is dead". I lost it. I pushed him. As hard as I could. I pushed past all of them. I got to the living room and it seemed so empty. It was foggy. I couldn't see past the tears. I was waiting to wake up, PLEASE wake up was all I could think. And then my dad had me in the biggest hug I could ever remember having and I sobbed. I cried so hard my head was throbbing.

I spent the rest of the day throwing up and trying to bring myself back from this horrible nightmare. He wasn't gone. I could smell him... I could feel him... he was just in his crib.. he was just taking a nap... I couldn't make myself understand. And at some point I stopped trying to.

The doctors tripled my Zoloft that day. I had suffered from depression before my son and the post partum was horrible. There were moments I felt I wasn't, and would never be, good enough for him. Deshaun was so perfect, and I was so... not. So they had started Zoloft. And in what felt like the first few days that I actually began to feel joy, I felt like I was good enough and this tiny ball of energy I was lucky enough to call my child loved me, and that's all that mattered. But then they tripled them. I couldn't feel.

The next few days, weeks, months, maybe even years I just lived. Like I was waiting to die. I became dependent on my child's father, and no matter what happened in life. I hated myself. I couldn't even keep my own son alive. What good was I and what did it matter if I lived or not? I secretly harbored these thoughts deep down, but I knew better then to express them outloud. They lock you up for that, they put you in asylums, and then I'd still be waiting to die but with less freedom and no thank you. So I put my fake face on.

I attempted to have more children with Deshaun's father as our relationship went on over the next decade. And with every negative pregnancy test, I felt more and more like it was my fault. I felt like because I wasn't able to save my first born, this guy they called God wouldn't trust me with another one. So I began to resent him.

Long story short, as I'm sure as these writings continue and we get more acquainted with each other (Yes I have plans of not stopping and also of holding nothing back, because how can I inspire other people or offer an alliance to ones dealing with some of the things I have battled myself if I don't fully give myself to this?), you'll learn, I ended up marrying and divorcing Deshaun's father, I ended up getting into what I thought was my career (ugh that's a whole book in itself :LoL), I ended up trying so hard to please others that I never took the time to find what in life pleased me, and I battled the growing hatred for myself silently, only letting snippets through the cracks when I couldn't hold anymore in.

So let's fast forward, past all the failed diets, past all the "self help" books, past all the trips to the doctors because I messed up and cracked and let an ounce of my true inner self out, past all the abusive and failed relationships, past everything to the year 2017. I lost 73 lbs that year and I was really on some other world shit. I had gained enough self confidence to start playing boys like domino's, just the way I'd been played so many times. I wasn't giving a single shit about what people thought about me because let's face it, I was loving who I was becoming. Or so I thought. And then out of the blue.. after probably 300 negative pregnancy tests after I lost Deshaun, after I had come to terms with God was an asshole and I would never have the 12 kids that I wanted (because all I ever wanted in life was to be a mother), after I started saving and was just about ready to move out of my parent's house (which I'd been at since my divorce mind you), I ended up pregnant. By a man I knew probably wouldn't stick around. In a time I had NO idea how I would ever be a good mother, I had given up that dream and was in no way living the way I wanted to raise a child, especially if I had a daughter... But I was pregnant.

I feel like I barely got to know being pregnant before the doctors were telling me I had to deliver 8 weeks early. I mean sure I'd had a baby shower, and I'd felt her kick, and I changed my life around to be able to be hopefully a good mother. But I still couldn't wrap my head around the fact I had a tiny life growing in me. And then she came. 8 weeks early ... she was tiny, and beautiful, and amazing and I feel like a jerk typing these words because they in no way shape or form hold a candle to what she was then, or what she is now. But she is my everything. Her start was rough, 19 days after she came home, she caught rhinovirus (the common cold to most of us) and ended up in the hospital on a ventilator for 11 days.

I watched her stop breathing 3 times, and each time it was literally relieving the loss of Deshaun. I watched helplessly and prayed as a machine was the only thing keeping her alive. I sat by her hospital bed day in and day out praying, asking why, not understanding why even God hated me so much that he would put me through this over, and over and over.

I learned alot about my friendships, my relationships with certain family members, and myself in the process and up until about 6 months ago I still had NO idea why anything we went through happened. Until one day, laying in bed crying because my back was hurting SO bad. I felt a tiny hand barely touch my back and 4 magic little words that spoke directly to my soul "I wuv yew mama" . It hit me like a ton of bricks. God wasn't being a sadistic asshole. Satan hadn't taken the wheel. Nothing we went through was necessarily "bad". What we went through, all the way back to Deshaun, was unique. And the bond that I have with this gorgeous miracle is more than some mothers will ever even understand. We have been to hell, walked with the devil, and came back on more than one occasion, and stronger each time.

She is my strength when I can't anymore. She is my hope when I've none anymore. And she is my reminder that if nothing else happens in this world good, she loves me. For who I am. For what I am. She's seen my demons, she grew inside me with them, and she doesn't fear me. She doesn't think I'm horrible. And even though I know most will say she doesn't understand anything going on, she's only two... I woke up this morning in tears because I hurt, because I had one of the worst dreams I've ever had, and I had an overwhelming feeling of failure because of some current medical situations that have common (more on that later)... But I also woke up with a hand on my arm and a giggle as my amazing Zabrina said "Aye yi yi Mommy you wiggle too much" and then she played with my hair as I fell drifted back to sleep...

And because she sees everything in me I wish I could see in myself... I will succeed. I will smash all the goals I have, I will create the mother I want to be for her, I will show her that anything is possible once your mind is set, and Fat Girl Rock Bottom will forever be my starting place and a reminder of where I've made it from.

I love you Zabrina MonaLisa. More than I will ever be able to put into words. This journey is solely dedicated to you and your brother Deshaun Ray who have carried me to where I stand today, and will fly with me as we conquer this world.

~Coming Up Next Time: Fat Mentality, what I mean when I say it and what causes it.

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Sep 24, 2021

Angie you are the most amazing person in this world to me you are raising your Mini-Me she is just like you she pulls you through every little hurdle canoe rental step with the biggest heart the biggest smile that you'll ever see in your life I understand this is that is what you've done for me in my life and continue to do so no matter how big she gets no matter how old she gets she will always be pulling you through and hitting Milestones with you you will never forget these moments hold onto them tight but there's plenty more to come please remember that you are an amazing mom and amazing person you are strong you…


Heather Ives
Heather Ives
Jun 01, 2021

All I can say is 😭😭😭. Even though I've heard it quite a few times before.... it never gets any easier to hear or read in this case. I feel the pain, I'm crying with you, and I always just want to give you the biggest hug. But then, as i continue to read, I also feel your hope and determination, and I feel so proud of how far you've come since I've known you. I have always tried to be there for you, through the thick and the thin of everything you do. And I will continue to do so because that's what good friends, no great friends, NO.....I consider myself like the big sister you never had.... do…

Replying to

Aweee Girl!! I appreciate that so much! The more I tell my story , the easier it is to do , and this time it's from a way different place than I have before. I'm SO determined this time around and things are SO different this time around. I see things more clearly than I ever have and after leaving some "friendships" in the past, that toxic place that held me captive for 12 years, and no longer desire to please anybody else (All things that you have been telling me for years) I really feel like this is it.. .This is MY moment.

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