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  “In case nobody has told you today, you guys fucking rock!” I yelled over their claps. It was like all the guilt they had felt about being in a residential treatment center for pregnant women and children had momentarily lifted.

  Once the applause had settled and the women adjusted themselves in their seats, I continued.

  “As far as being an addict goes, my story is no different. The only thing separating you guys and myself is that I happened to be dating a cop during my active addiction,” I said.

  The women let out a gasp and their eyes grew wide. A girl turned to her friend and whispered something, and I noticed a shift in the room. The women were on the edge of their seats; they were interested now.

  “We can get into that later, but for now, I’d like to tell you what brings me here to Family Ties Treatment Center. After I left rehab, I moved into a halfway house. I knew I was ready to be out in the real world, but I was also aware that I wasn’t prepared to dive in headfirst. I needed accountability. The halfway house rules were simple: get a job, attend one meeting a day, no drinking or using, and curfew is midnight. It was an amazing way for me to meet people in recovery, and being surrounded by strong, independent women every day really motivated me and gave me a sense of true friendship I had never experienced before.

  “Shortly after moving into the halfway house, I met someone. Now I don’t recommend this, because it’s important to focus on yourself for a while. But me being the rebel that I am, I figured because I had ten months clean, it was close enough to a year and would be okay. He and I began dating and I was completely honest with him about my past; he accepted me and supported where I was in my journey. Plus, he was super hot, so…” A few of the girls chuckled and nodded.

  “I found out I was pregnant in the bathroom of a halfway house.” Once again, their eyes grew wide as saucers.

  51

  The moment I saw the two pink lines, I collapsed into a ball on the floor and began sobbing. This was not how things were supposed to happen. He and I had only been dating for two months. I didn’t have a job or a car. I only had a garbage bag’s worth of belongings—that’s it.

  “I paced the length of the small bathroom for about an hour,” I continued. “Unsure of what to do, I called my sister, who basically said, ‘You’re an idiot.’ Which was completely different than I envisioned my pregnancy announcement going as I was growing up. Anyway, my sister and I spoke later that night and she convinced me to wrap the pregnancy test up in a box, with a bow, because ‘How could he be upset if it’s presented like a present?’ ”

  I could laugh along with the girls in the room now, but at the time I was horrified.

  “So I hopped on my bicycle and pedaled over to his house to give him his gift. He thought it was a watch; imagine his surprise.”

  Laughter echoed through the room and I was no longer nervous. “What did he say?” someone in the back row asked.

  “Well, he said, ‘This is wonderful.’ And that was about the time I started freaking out and told him, ‘Hell no, we can’t do this, we need to get an abortion.’ I mean think about it, I had nothing. Nothing. I was just beginning to find out who I was, there was no way I could have a child at this point in my life, it would have been foolish.”

  I watched as their faces began to drop. A moment ago, they loved me, and now they looked disgusted that I would kill my unborn child.

  “Listen, it would have been a huge risk for me to have a baby while jobless and homeless. What was I gonna do, have a baby in a halfway house? I was terrified. What if I relapsed?” I said, looking around pleadingly. The women couldn’t even look at me; they were shaking their heads and looking away.

  “I don’t know about you guys,” I began. “But I believe a higher power restored me to sanity, and my higher power speaks to me through my conscience and a feeling in my gut. My higher power knows what’s best for me, which is why I always listen. My son was born on September 22, 2014. He was born on my birthday.” I smiled.

  Chills covered my body as the women began to cheer.

  “I busted my ass, got a job, got a car, and four months after finding out I was pregnant, I finally moved in with my boyfriend at the time. I never gave up, even when I wanted to. The boy growing inside me was now a part of me, and I knew I would do whatever it took to give him a wonderful life.

  “I am now married to the father of my son, and he is also the father of my daughter, born sixteen months after my son. His other daughter from a previous relationship lives with us full-time as well. So, in the span of two and a half years I went from being a single woman living in a halfway house to a married mother of three.”

  The women looked stunned and amused.

  “So why am I telling you all of this? I’m telling you because there was once a point in my recovery when I wanted to give up. I wanted to get high, I wanted to throw it all away. But just because I wanted to get high doesn’t mean I had to. So I didn’t, no matter how hard it got; I kept going because I knew wonderful things were waiting for me. There are times now, where I will be sitting in the living room of our beautiful four-bedroom house, and I’ll hear my kids giggling in the other room. In that moment, I’ll think back to the times I lay in bed twisting and turning in agony from withdrawal, the times I overdosed and almost died, and I think: Holy shit, I almost missed this.

  “Each and every one of you sitting in here right now has an unbelievable life waiting for you just down the road, a life better than you can dream. All you have to do is keep walking. No matter how bumpy the road gets, or how many unexpected detours you come across, keep putting one foot in front of the other. Keep fucking walking. You know, there was a time when I couldn’t go longer than five minutes without being high. But with the help of my sponsor, my higher power, friends in the fellowship, and a very vivid memory of what life was like during my addiction, today, I have five years clean and sober from drugs and alcohol.” Everyone cheered.

  “It is possible to have an amazing, fun, purposeful life after addiction. It really is. Addiction is not the end. Life is fleeting, and it will be over before you know it. You have an opportunity to say right here, and right now…that addiction is not how my story is going to end.”

  As the women rose to their feet and furiously clapped their hands, I closed my eyes and thought about my parents in heaven. I was sure that wherever they were, they were clapping right along with the people in that room. I thought about jail, and how desperately I wanted to die. How angry I was that they found me and saved me after my attempted suicide. Suddenly, in that moment, everything made sense. My higher power knew before I did that my work here on earth wasn’t done. When I couldn’t see a future for myself, He already knew I’d be standing here tonight.

  As I looked out at all the hopeful smiling faces in the room, just beginning their journey in recovery, tears of gratitude filled my eyes.

  There is no such thing as a lost cause, and it’s never too late to start over. A flicker of hope in one’s heart is capable of lighting the path to a new destiny.

  About the Author

  Tiffany Jenkins writes about motherhood, addiction, marriage, and life in her blog, Juggling the Jenkins, where she has acquired a huge social media following. Her videos receive millions of views. She uses her platform to help and inspire others who are struggling with motherhood, mental health, and addiction, and those who just need a good laugh. Her articles have been featured on BLUNTmoms.com, Themighty.com, and Thoughtcatalog.com, and her blog and Facebook page have been covered by several news outlets and television programs. She speaks all over the United States about addiction and recovery. She lives with her husband and three children in Sarasota, Florida.

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