At 36 years old, five months into a new relationship, one that was already showing some pretty big cracks, I was pregnant. I was devastated. I didn’t want another baby.
Our 12-step group gives out tags for clean time; to recognize and congratulate certain lengths. This is supposed to be a joyous occasion. For a while now, when the nine-month tag is announced, some can be heard yelling out, “pregnant with recovery, not by someone in recovery.”
I suffered periods of opioid addiction for eight years. In the end, there were more bad times than good ones. At first I could stop cold turkey and reel myself in, but the last time I tried to… Read More