There wasn’t much AA to report about the trip. We tried to go to one meeting, but when we arrived at the location, we found a run down church with only two cars in the parking lot. We sat for a few minutes and a man came out and smoked. That was a good sign for a meeting, but no one else arrived and we took off. We’re not desperate, we’re not about to drink, and I didn’t want to get involved. We did listen to an AA speech given by Father Martin. We listened to that on my computer, and I read a story or so from the Big Book. Since we’ve returned, Carole is at her second meeting in two days and I’m planning to go on Friday and Saturday. I hope that soon we get to experience a meeting where Erika lives. I’m pretty sure we will.
The other thing all this has to do with AA is the remarkable story of how a hopeless drunk (moi) went on to produce such an amazing child. In another two weeks, it will be Erika’s 25th birthday. I got pregnant with her when I was seven months sober. (Is that right? It seems wrong). I DO NOT recommend this, and both she and I and an unsuspecting society are just plain lucky that it all worked out. A few months previous to me getting sober, I would surely have given any fetus unlucky enough to find itself within me fetal alcohol syndrome. I’m sure of it.
Now by the time I was her age, I was several years sober and pregnant with her brother. I had moved across the country but this is all besides the point, for sure. The legacy of active alcoholism has been handed down again and again in my family. I’m glad I can hand down something different. I’m glad I can be here, not dead from alcohol like my father. I’m grateful that I have a plan, and a wondrous support system. Very very grateful that I got to live to see this day.