On this eve of Mother's Day I am in a very reflecting mode.

I must say that being a mom has been yet the most difficult and yet most fulfilling job I have ever had.

When I became a mom I was 18 going on 19 to the most precious little boy I had ever set my eyes on. He wasn't little by any means as he weighed 11lbs 8 oz. He was the biggest baby at the nursery. I called him my sunshine as his hair was so blond you could barely see his eyelashes.

I remember sitting in the hospitals nursery trying to breast feed him and getting the look of pity that all the grown adult new moms gave me. They did not have to say one word to me. I knew what they where thinking. I knew that they where saying to themselves that I was just a kid having a kid. They talked among themselves and asked questions about their newborn babies and not one said a word to me. Oh those memories are very vivid in me. I remember promising Joey that I would do everything in my power to be the BEST mom in the world to him.

As time passed and I became one of the society's statistic of a recently divorced "Woman" at the mere age of 19 with a kid I made it a mission to not fall into the percentage of people to live off the government.

I was lucky to have the support of my parents as they took me in, they wanted me to get back on my feet. I worked during the day at that time making $3.25 ph as a receptionist and put myself through college at night. It was a sacrifice I had to make to achieve my goal. While my college friends where going out drinking and partying I was at home doing homework while attending my child. Joey grew so attached to my parents and the truth was that even though I was his mom they where the ones he was seeing as "Mama" and "Papa" as he called them, they where the ones that spent more hours with them.

It finally came a time that I was able to branch on my own. I found an apartment that I was able to pay and I made the announcement to my parents that I was going to move out. They took it hard. My Dad even suggested that I just pick Joey up during the weekends and let him sleep with them to during the week to make it easy on me. I could not do it! I told them that he was MY child and that I needed to create our little family on my own. They understood and they helped me move out.

The first night we slept in our apartment Joey would just stand at the door and cry for his "Mama" and "Papa" and it broke my heart! I cried that night with him in my arm until he fell asleep. He was barely a year and a half old. Even though he called me "Mommy" I was not his "Mama" or "Papa".

My mom still took care of him during the day and as soon as I was out of work I went to pick him up. His cries became less and less in the afternoons when it was time for us to leave. My mom still helped me and she made sure that we both would eat before leaving to our home.

While my co-workers where going to happy hour I was driving to pick up my boy, my life. While they were drinking their Miller's Lite the "in" drink at the time, I was happily playing with my boy in a fast foods restaurant playground.

I beat the statistics! I made it on my own with my little boy...

or so I thought....

to be continued....