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I had my son during Christmas break in my second year of graduate school.
I quickly cleaned up my act though and powered through the rest of my graduate studies, because I was certain that in no time at all, I'd be back on track.A traditional family life was once again on the horizon (albeit with a different husband). Right to come into our lives, I worked full-time and attended school at night, which almost killed me.I spent most of that time racing from task to task in a where-are-my-keys-my-car-my-baby sort of haze.Every morning, seemingly without fail, I pulled out of the driveway (late, of course) baby-in-tow, with my head leaning out the car window (for the blow drying effect) and my coffee cup precariously perched on the roof of my car. Right, dating was honestly the furthest thing from my mind.I finished my graduate program when my son was 18 months old and quickly settled into my post-grad reality.I would be lying though if I said that our lives were filled with never-ending meaning-making and international travels.
There were many lonely nights when I yearned for a partner to share my heart, my son, and my life with.
Our international travels were only a part of what we shared together.
There were also numerous camping trips, which involved days of fish-catching bloodbath massacres and nights chatting while watching the stars (amidst swatting away bats and other low-flying threats).
When my research took me to Rwanda, my son was often at my side as we visited genocide memorials and climbed a volcano to commune with endangered mountain gorillas.
When I met a Kikuyu nun in the middle of Kenya's Masai Mara to talk about female genital mutilation in the Masai tribe, my son sat next to me, sipping an orange Fanta, and asking age-appropriate questions.
When I attended my doctoral courses in England, my son often came along as my sidekick.