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THE TRUE END

O ur son, Onyx Evan Morris, was born on a Saturday, three weeks before his due date. It hurt like a bitch, and I screamed and blamed Evan for every single moment of pain it caused me to push our baby into the world.

But the moment I held him in my arms, I felt a new type of love that I had no idea existed.

Becoming a mother at twenty wasn’t ever on my radar, but now he’s here, how he got here seems irrelevant. I love my baby, I love his father, and I love the crazy life we have.

I guess this should be the end, the moment when I declare that we all lived happily ever after, but I knew the moment I looked into my son’s eyes that we just spawned a new generation of crazy.

“Welcome to the psycho club, Onyx. I hope your game ends as perfectly as ours did.”