I wanted my kids to have a stable life. When I got pregnant again, I lived in my mom’s trailer. I thought it was temporary. I’d get us a better home.
But money was always short. Bills kept coming. Emergencies took my savings. Still, I hoped my kids would see my effort. I wanted them to be kind.
My oldest, Mason, wasn’t motivated. At 18, I told him to find work. He could stay with me until he was ready. I didn’t want to push him out.
Mason took that as a reason to stay. By 22, he worked a simple job. He didn’t try hard. Then I got pregnant again, unexpectedly.
The guy I was with left me. Mason warned me. “We can’t afford a baby,” he said. His words hurt. I was in a tougher spot than ever.
I said we’d make it work. If he didn’t like it, he could go. It was painful to hear him say that. But I had to keep going.
At five months, stress hit me. I went into early labor. The doctors couldn’t stop it. My son, Owen, was born too early. He was tiny.
Owen went to an incubator. The doctors looked worried. They didn’t say much while I recovered. I was scared, but I stayed hopeful.
I stayed by Owen’s side when I could. The neonatal ward had other small babies. I didn’t know much about medicine. Owen’s survival gave me hope.
Mason visited once. He stared at Owen. “He’s so small,” he said, touching the glass. I nodded. “It’s a miracle,” I said quietly.
He asked about Owen’s health. I didn’t know much. When he asked if Owen was in pain, I got upset. “I’ll fight for him,” I said.
Mason looked guilty, maybe. We named the baby Owen. He left that night. I hoped he cared about his brother. But I wasn’t sure.
Owen’s journey was tough. His early birth caused problems. He needed surgeries. We stayed in the hospital for 398 days. It was hard.
Some doctors thought he wouldn’t make it. But Owen kept going. When we were discharged, he needed medications for life. He was beautiful.
I headed to our trailer, ready to start over. Mason wasn’t answering his phone. I thought he was busy. I wasn’t too worried.
At the trailer, a stranger answered. He said he bought it from Mason. My heart broke. My mom’s trailer was gone? It was my safety net.
I panicked, holding Owen. He cried. I felt lost. Then Mason ran up, calling me. He told me to follow him. He’d explain everything.
As we walked, he told me. That hospital visit changed him. He saw my love for Owen. He realized he’d been lazy, taking me for granted.
Mason worked extra shifts at his factory job. He saved every cent. He sold the trailer to buy us a small house. It had two bedrooms.
The house needed repairs. Mason would live in the basement. I was floored. My son did this? He grinned, asking if I was proud.
I laughed. “I’m bursting with pride,” I said. The house was simple. It had used furniture and a crib for Owen. It was ours.
Mason said it was ours together. He thanked me for believing in him. We hugged. I felt hope, stronger than ever before.
Life was still hard. Medical bills were big. The house needed work. Owen’s care was expensive. But we didn’t give up.
Mason worked hard. I took cleaning jobs, bringing Owen along. We pushed through together. I knew we’d be okay in the end.
