James "Dick" McGill

It's been almost ten years since I met Ryan. I was 19. I'd struggled through my freshman year of college. My grades sucked. My then-boyfriend sucked even worse - and my grades were baaaaaaad. I'd made a slew of horrible decisions. One of which was going to UNL. I won't pretend that I know everything now, but I'll tell you what - I knew nothing then.

Anyway, I stumbled upon some luck or had an angel on my side because I ended up transferring to ISU and dating Ryan. Things weren't so bad for me anymore, but I was still pretty wild. It was mid-Febuary when I learned I was pregnant.

Nineteen. Not married. No degree. Athletic scholarship. Pregnant. Hmmm.

:::Disclaimer:::. Just to be clear; this is our story, and what was right for us. It has nothing to do with anyone else. I'm not saying what is right or wrong. Everyone has there own set of circumstances and decisions to make.

Lots of talks were had. For us, the bottom line was that Ryan and I felt responsible for this life. Our baby may not have been planned, but we wanted him. And, to be honest, the road ahead didn't look difficult to me. It looked promising. We had each other. We had our parents. And, we would have a baby. A beautiful, smart, funny, sweet baby boy named Caden. Caden was no mistake. Caden is an angel. He's the best thing that ever happened to me. He may have come before I was married, but you know what? He came right when I needed him to. Little did Ryan and I know, we'd be blessed with three more and a happy, strong marriage.

 I can't speak for Ryan completely, but I know that I did not once worry about what anyone thought. Not once. Not even when the media ran news stories. Not when so-and-so said this-or-that. Not when I was stared at. Not when people who were supposed to be on my side weren't there anymore. Honestly, my only concern, my only thoughts were of our baby. I was very focused. It was pretty nice, considering I'd been without focus for a while. Looking back on it, it seems weird that I didn't even care enough to say "they can kiss my ass." Which is pretty weird for me. And, they totally deserve to hear it. So, I'll say it now.

KISS MY ASS.

I'd like to go all X-rated, but I won't because my dad would probably rather I didn't. Hi, Dad.

Now, let me get around to my point. People who have supported us in any way at all will forever have our gratitude. Little things or big things. I found this letter today. It's been several years since I've read it. It seems to mean more now than it did then. I've been crying for 30 minutes and the clock is still ticking.

It wasn't a difficult situation to put me in. He brought me deer bologna and made a blanket for Caden. I don't remember him wanting to take us out to dinner, but I wish we could have gone.