My adoptive parents provided a warm and loving home for my brother, sister and me, and were what I would consider to be social drinkers, the kind I would yearn to become later in life. They used alcohol in moderation. Dad would usually pop open a beer after a long day at the job-typically before starting an after-work second shift building our new house, developing the property in which they'd invested, or simply putting in all the hard hours it took to grow the family business. Mom usually had a cocktail only when we went out for a special occasion.
It didn't seem like a problem for me in high school or college-it was called partying back then and everyone did it. My grades were good and I saved my fun for the weekends, just like other kids. Looking back, I think I enjoyed drinking more than many of my peers, but I was generally enthusiastic about most things and it certainly didn't seem like cause for concern.
I was in my mid to late twenties-it had pretty much become a daily affair, and frankly I was more comfortable with someone who didn't make me feel guilty about it. We were together six years before we started a family, so we enjoyed our time fishing, camping, running a new business, and spending time with friends. Drinking not only didn't interfere with our life; it seemed to enhance it.
By the time our babies came along, it had become clear to me that abstinence was not going to be easy, but I gave it my best shot. I held out for the entire term of the first pregnancy, but despite what I knew about alcohol passing into breast milk, I started drinking an occasional cocktail at night while nursing.
