Got a light?

One day when I feel he is old enough to know I was a smoker, I will thank Rocco for helping me quit.

I have tried to quit smoking dozens of times.  Cold turkey, the patch, the gum, Chantix, hypnosis!  You name it, I tried it.  I would typically last a day or two.  The longest I went without a cigarette was in 2007.  I did not smoke for about 90 days.  I quit that year on my birthday right before Eric (a non smoker) and I started dating.  I had a lovely smoke free summer.  But that fall when my last year of graduate school started I freaked out.  I realized I did not know how to sit in front of the computer for hours with out chain smoking and drinking coffee.  I slowly started up again.

I smoked for 19 years.  Yes, you read correctly.  19 years.  Smoking made me happy.  Smoking relaxed me.  Comforted me.  Woke me up.  Calmed me down.  Eventually I was smoking against my will.  I was smoking because I had to.


When I found out I was pregnant I immediately wanted to smoke.  I remember putting the third pregnancy test down on the bathroom counter and saying to Eric "Shit!  I really want to smoke!"  And I did.

That was a Friday.  I had about 10 cigarettes left in my pack.  I don't even remember what I was smoking at the time.  Cigarettes were getting expensive and I was experimenting with cheaper brands than Parliament Lights.  I think I was smoking Pall Malls.

I knew I was going to quit.  There was no way I was going to smoke through my pregnancy.  But I did not think I was going to be able to do it.  I remember thinking that I wasn't strong enough to stop.

I took my time smoking those cigarettes that weekend.  I would smoke half, clip it, smoke the rest later.  I spaced them out.  Mindful with each drag that I was no longer destroying my own health but that the health of my unborn child was at risk.  I even tried rationalizing my behavior.  I encounter women all of the time who drink and use drugs through their pregnancies.  Some nicotine was nothing compared to alcohol and crack.  I see plenty of healthy babies born to women who drink and do drugs while pregnant.  Smoking wasn't a big deal.

That Monday before I went to bed I told Eric I was smoking my last cigarette as I headed outside.  He rolled his eyes and said, "Okay".  He has heard that before.  I smoked that cigarette ridden with guilt.  Feeling selfish but trying to enjoy every pull because this really was going to be my last cigarette.

Before I got into bed I got on my knees.  I talk to God regularly but usually in the car or after I have already snuggled under the covers.  I never pray on my knees.  But that night I really needed help.  I asked God to remove my obsession to smoke cigarettes.

And it worked.

God lifted my obsession.  Or it could have been that I was vomiting so much that the thought of a cigarette was the furthest thing from my mind.  Who knows?  Who cares?

I have smoked since.  I have smoked three cigarettes since last July.  And they were disgusting.  It will never be the same again.  They will never taste as delicious or make me feel 'good'.  They smell bad.  They feel awkward in my hand.  I can't inhale.  My lungs hurt when I try.  I have romanticized it.

My own well being was not enough for me to stop smoking.  Watching my Grandmother die from years of smoking didn't scare me.  Watching my Uncle Frank tote an oxygen tank around with him for years did not convince me.  It was Rocco.  Before we even knew he was going to be a Rocco.  

So, one day when I think it is appropriate to crush my son who I am sure is going to worship me and think I can do no wrong I will let him know of my sordid past.  And thank him for saving my life.