15 days ago, my mom got her life back. Correction, she took her life back. For over half of her 49 years on this earth, my mother has smoked. When she woke up and had a cup of coffee, she smoked. After dinner, she smoked. On her way to work in the car, she smoked. In the company of other smokers, she smoked. And when it was "payin' the bills time", she would spread out her bills across the kitchen table, she'd have her file folder, checkbook, a pen, and of course, a pack of Kool Filter Kings in the soft pack with an ashtray on the side. The smoke screen would be so thick in the kitchen that you would need a knife just to cut through it!

As children, we just accepted my mom's habit as that. We were taught not to question grownups, and furthermore, we considered it to be the norm, no matter how awful the cigarette smoke smelled. As we got older (and alot bolder, yet still respectful), we began to pressure my mom about quitting her smoking habit. It went from, "if you don't like it, go in a different room" to, "ride in a separate car, then!" (we were adults), or even, "don't start!" We've tried bribery, laying on the guilt trips, lectures, logic, threats (to no avail), and even plain old beggin' and pleadin'! A couple of times, my mom entertained the idea of quitting. We'd settle for anything--even if it was a promise to "think about it." Then came children of our own.

Living around second-hand smoke was something that we became used to as children living with my mom. After having children of our own, pressuring my mom to quit smoking became a hot topic. We were all more informed about the dangers of second-hand smoke and we knew that we did not want our children to be exposed to it. It was hard having those hard conversations with my sisters without my mom being present--"we have the health of our children to think about";"why is she being so selfish?";"who's going to talk to her this time because we have to do something?" We were all on an emotional rollercoaster.

I remember one night I dreamt of my mom. I was pregnant with Alani at the time, living in Charlotte. The details are pretty sketchy now, but I do remember that my mom died as a result of smoking. I remember waking up, startled, and I just started crying. Uncontrollably. It had to have been about 2 or 3 a.m. I dialed my mom's number at least 2 times before I finally decided to let it ring. "Mom, it's me," I whimpered. "Please stop smoking. Please stop smoking." I couldn't find any other words. She couldn't either--we both cried over the phone. All I could think of was the fact that I wanted my mom to be on this Earth for my daughter--I wanted her to be here for me, too, but what about Alani? Couldn't she think of anyone besides herself?

I'm not sure what the one thing was that made my mom finally decide to quit smoking for good. It could have been watching her youngest brother suffer and succomb to lung cancer this year. It could have been her wanting to be here longer for her grandchildren. It could have been the pressure we've put on her for years. It could have been that she just wants to be healthier. It could also be all of these things. It really doesn't matter. When she called me and let me know that she set the date for November 4th to have a procedure done that would help her quit smoking, I knew that she had taken a huge step to get her life back. I admit, I held my breath until then--partly because I wanted this to "NOT" be a dream; the other reason was because she was determined to have a "smoke-fest" until then (just kidding!). I'm so proud of her and I admire her for conquering her addiction--I now realize that it was not easy for her.

I plan to write a separate blog about the day my mom got her procedure done--we were all with her at the time. I knew that November 4th would be a day that I would write about--I feel blessed to have my mom here to read it.