My “little girl” is nearly 20 years old now.
If you know anything about me, then you know about my little girl, Breanna. You would know that she is the one that made me a mommy. When all the world was prepping for Y2K and the end of days leading up to the year 2000, I was debating what to call the child that grew in my womb.
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Recently, I wrote an article sighting some of my views from the NICU, Medicaid and life. Check it out…
We settled into our chairs at a local coffee shop, sipping coffee as we met for the first time. I had read Heather Amos’ book, “I’m Not OK,” and had a broader appreciation and insight into the painful and lonely reality many parents face when their children have special needs.
I had questions for this young author. How did you decide to write a book? How do you manage the frustration of trying to care for yourself? Your spouse? Your other children?
Why did she write a book? “Really, I just got mad,” she said.
Her mother suggested that she find a way to explain what she and many parents experienced.
Motherhood. I was a single Mom for 5 years. I was a young mom having my first child at the age of 19. Currently I wear the badge of stepmother as well. I suppose I have covered lots of Mom roles over the course of years.
Being a mother is absolutely not definable. Is that even a word? It is a medley of poems linked together in no particular order, all the while sounding lovely. It is bearing the life of another and always putting that life before yours.
It is not enchanting, this role, but it is magnificent.