A/N: This is my story, my life. And I felt like I needed to get it out into the world. I don't know why I just felt that it was something that I needed to do. I apologize if this introduction is boring or confusing but I will try to get better organized along the way. Please leave a review! –MOTH (Maiden of the Heavens)

I'm really not sure where to start this. My mind has been nothing but a jumble of memories tangled up like a spider's web. I guess I could start from the beginning, and tell you about my very start, of how everything began. And no, I am going to describe to you my parents' sex life. That has been described to me enough by my mother every time as sweaty-hot-monkey sex, which still makes me cringe at the thought. I will start with what I know, but I was far too young to remember. So, I am simply spilling facts from my mouth that have been embedded in my brain and spilt past my lips a thousand times.

I was born four months early premature. One pound, five ounces. I was born on January thirteenth, nineteen ninety. I was baptized after I was born; they didn't think I would make it, that I would live. But I did, I survived. Now you're probably thinking, "Oh, you're miracle baby!" or something along those lines. But if you ask me I would never consider myself to be a miracle, but only that being as small and as frail as I was, that I had, and still I do have, a strong will to live.

Now you're probably wondering where this is all going to go… It's going go down a long and bumpy road that has been my life this past twenty-three years. It something that I have wanted to tell, but I was afraid that people would think that I was bragging. But this will be a blog about my life.

My not-at-all perfect lumpy-bumpy life.

For now all I can give you are facts. Facts that have been repeated to me, and none at all that I actually remember, myself.

Yes, as I said before I was born four months early premature and weighed one pound and five ounces. But that is not all. I nearly died number times while I was in the hospital. I was in an incubator like a baby chick in order to stay warm, and on a water bed so my head would not end up being deformed. The whole wall was covered in cords that were hooked to machines that were supposed to keep me alive. I nearly froze to death once because a nurse unhooked my heat source. My lungs collapsed, and I think I almost might have bled to death. My mother was the one who did not give up on me, she prayed for me every single day, and even recorded her voice singing 'Irish Lullaby' and 'Somewhere Over the Rainbow', to this day I cannot listen to anyone else sing them but her. Sappy right? I was baptized while I was in the hospital, as I have said before I wasn't supposed to live.

I bet you're wondering now when I got to go home from the hospital. I went home on Mother's Day, and I was even featured in our town's daily newspaper on the front page. It snowed on the day I came home. I struggled through a lot in my life after my birth, and a lot of people have described it as going 'through the ringer'. I am still not entirely sure what that even means.

As for the doctors not thinking that I would live they also thought that I would never be able to walk, that I would be wheelchair bound for the rest of my life. But I didn't want that for myself, somehow I just knew that I had some sort of gusto that I need to prove everyone wrong once again. Yes, I did have a wheelchair; needless to say I was at the age of three when I picked out the color. My wheelchair was hot pink. What kind of three-year-old blonde haired girl doesn't love pink? I also had gone through my first hip reconstruction surgery during this time. I thought that days of dolls clothes and diapers (even the one cut in half to fit my small behind) where well behind me, but that wasn't the case. The hip surgery was meant to fix my legs which were facing inward instead of outward, and then I was stuck in a cast. A hot pink cast. But the worst part was, being put back in diapers right after my mother had deemed as a 'big girl'. And I was really proud about being a big girl like my older sister and being able to use the toilet all by myself. But the surgery came with a price and I guess that price was the torture having to be re-potty trained.

Now I bet you're all wondering about why I needed hip surgeries. I was not only born premature, but I was also born with Cerebral Palsy or CP for short. I was never really sure how to explain to as a little kid nor am I sure now how to explain it as an adult. But I will go with the version that I told as a kid to make it easier for both myself and for you. It means that I have hard time walking; I can still walk but not as well as others, and not also walk very long distances without needing a break. There are cases that a lot worse than my own. The hip surgeries really did help in the long run after getting the cast removed I slowly taught myself how to crawl again.

It wasn't until the age of five that I was able to walk on my own. But that walking came with the help of canes and walkers. I felt like an old person but that I was going backwards. I remember the other kids in my kindergarten class decorating my walker with orange and black streamers for Halloween. But it was the teasing from other students that made me tired of not be able to walk on my own, according to my mother I had thrown down my canes and began to use the table to as a crutch instead, until I felt steady enough to walk on my own. I don't really remember what happened after that but I am pretty darn positive that my mother was crying. Not with tears of sadness but with tears of joy.