Cig Dogs

Today has been an interesting, emotional day. Not as in "I'm sobbing my eyes out" sort of thing. I will explain:

Having Rylan has made me quit a lot of "bad things" that I did before he was born. Some of them, I don't really want to talk about, but just know that it was not "right" so to speak. Then there are the things that I quit that arn't as bad but unhealthy like smoking cigarettes. I was about a pack and a half a day smoker before I had Rylan. I used to work at the mall and some days, when we were short on money and couldn't buy cigs let alone gas to even get to work, I would walk around the ashtrays outside and smoke the half smoked cig that had once been in someone else's mouth. Gross, I know but I was desperate. The minute I found out I was pregnant, we were so excited, we went outside on our porch to smoke and talk in celebration. As soon as I started smoking that cigarette I thought, "What am I doing?! Im pregnant!" From that moment on, I quit cold turkey. It was really difficult and I admit, once or twice I screwed up and smoked a cigarette, but I quit successfully for the past 9 months.

This weekend has been stressful to the max. I have gotten little sleep, my husband and I were having some marital issues which we were trying to work out but every time it just ended in a huge argument, I felt the motherly overload of having a new born child and trying to take care of him by myself, I have always had weight issues (I usually don't go over 120 and even then, I don't like that weight so being 170 lbs pregnant was a big change for me that was hard to go through.) and I am trying to get back to my normal weight and that is stressful, the list goes on and on.

Today John and I went into Evansville today to pick up his medicine and I thought to myself, "I am stressed. I need a cigarette." So, I go into the local gas station and pick out the type that John smokes (having a husband that smokes when you used to smoke is difficult sometimes) as the excuse "I'm buying them for John and I'll just have one." I take a hit, exhale, sit there for a minute and wanted to puke but couldn't because I was driving. I swear, my mouth still tastes like an ashtray. Now after a few of them, you get used to it and actually start enjoying the casual smoke with friends or just to go outside and smoke as something to do when you're bored. It reminded me of the first time I smoked a cigarette. I wanted to "be cool" and this girl offered me one. I hit it and thought how disgusting it was, but continued to smoke the rest of it. Later, we went outside again and she gave me another one and so on so forth. Long story short, it got to the point where I was buying a pack a day and the best part of my day would be going into CVS and seeing that my 27's were a dollar off that day. Anyways, I am getting off topic. It was hard for me to quit smoking but had the "Let your baby be your inspiration" moto constantly running through my head. I didn't want to harm my child in any way, shape, or form. So why would I want to start back up? I quit for 9 months, in 4 years my lungs will be back to "normal" without much tar, I will live a longer life so I can spend more time with my son, I wont be spending 5+ dollars a day on a pack,  Rylan's clothes wont smell, my clothes wont smell, and he won't say that mommy is "stinky". (John's neice's and nephews used to call us the "stinky ones" because we always smelled like cigarettes) I mean, the list of positive reasons not to smoke with a child around goes on and on. So, after feeling like I was going to puke, I had a choice: Continue to smoke and get back into it, or throw it out and pretend like that never happened. I debated with myself for a moment and realized it was stupid to even be debating with myself about it. I threw out the cig and I am not looking back.

I feel like I have given up a lot of things for my son. Sometimes, its hard to think about the things that "could have been" or what I "could be doing" but then I look down at my son and think, I wouldn't want to have it any other way. He is an angel sent from heaven who just happened to land in my arms. I don't want to be out partying or whatever. Sure, I miss the social experience because you can't really go out to a club or a hookah bar with a newborn in your arms, but that's alright. As long as I have my boy, I will be fine. That is the lesson I learned today. Don't look back because then I might miss the future.