No way out but through.

I just saw Tyler Perry's "I Can Do Bad All By Myself". Say what you like about him, but it struck a nerve. Every character seemed haunted by unspeakable horrors, and every joy was snatched from the jaws of suffering. My life doesn't warrant a big-screen treatment, not because it's too weird, but because it's distressingly common.

I'm about to travel to introduce my son to a man who nearly ended his life before it began. The Milk Monster will face the man who tried to force me to abort him, swore to never have anything to do with him, and when that didn't make me want to get an abortion, offered my unborn child to one of his girlfriends. After I fled, he tried to deny paternity, a particularly weak charge when I was so isolated I barely left the house. And my son will have to call this man father.

Sometimes, I wonder if it was fair to go through with my pregnancy, knowing that my child has this man for his father. But I realized before I gave birth, as the movie tried to pummel one over the head with, that it's not what you start off with, nor what happens to you. It's what you do with it that matters. My son does not have a good man for a father, and he doesn't have all the latest toys and such. But he has a mother willing to knit socks for him and read him stories. He has a host of relatives, official and unofficial, who send him love via email and UPS. He is surrounded by love, and as he grows, God willing, he will receive gentle guidance and firm affection.

As my son grows, he reminds me that I've got some growing to do, as well. I'd been afraid to start a new life, half hoping that the decision would be taken out of my hands. But I realized that I can't foster growth while remaining stunted. I can't foster independence if I'm looking to give mine up at the first likely opportunity. And I can't avoid repeating my past unless I change my present.

This week, I made my first errand on my own. It took two hours for a task that would take twenty minutes by car. I'm still committed to learning to drive, but for now, my feet are what I've got. I'm learning to stand on my own, even if in small ways. That said, I'd like a chance to sit after- two hours of walking is no joke.