Inflatable Sheep

I'm up to March 1979 now. So many difficult pages. I'm about to give birth to my son and then put him up for adoption. Sherah's a year-and-a-half old, I have no job, no car, no money. The husband who put me the shelter for battered women has now moved out of state with a warrant and a restraining order following him.

For whatever reasons, God, my family, my friends seem to have pretty much deserted me or hold me at arm's length. No doubt appalled by my situation and lack of willpower.

It is my personal ground zero. It is the point in my life where I determine by sheer will to pull me and Sherah out of this hell and on to a better life by hook or crook.

It doesn't happen overnight. There is a lot of back and forth. I'm too busy surviving one day to the next all the while suffering from the cumulative results of bad decisions without the necessary time to recover and reflect before moving on.

I'm fixing to have a nervous break-down of sorts after he is born. This leads to one more really, really bad mistake. But that is still ahead. In this moment in time, I hold my son close to me in my body for the last few days knowing it's the only time I'll ever have with him.

Dang, need to keep the hankies close by for this one.