“Do you ever sit down at the end of the night, after wiping down another counter, and think, where have I gone? When the only time you have to yourself is the 5 minutes you lay in bed utterly exhausted and fight to stay awake to just have one minute, one second, to be yourself again. Do you ever miss the old you? Me too.”
‘Motherhood is not a funeral to your old life. You don’t need to mourn it anymore. What makes ME happy? No more guilt.’
‘Is she your real daughter? Who does she belong to?‘ At 4, I was adopted with my twin sister by a white Mennonite family in the heart of Amish country.’
“‘I bet you are so glad someone actually wanted you,’ a stranger told me. I am running through the grass, almost to the woods to find my biological mother. ‘My real mother!,’ I shout. ‘Hold still,’ my mom shouts, before I trip. She chased me, and scoops me up.”
‘Your voice got loud. You said I made a nasty mess. I’m sorry, mama. I didn’t mean to make you mad. You look so pretty today.’
“I love your soft hair and your makeup, mama. I’d like to put makeup on my face, but I don’t have any. You run around searching for your phone, and I have an idea! I saw a marker in the other room. I color all over my face. I bet I look beautiful! But, you didn’t think so.”
‘I grew up obsessed with Little House on the Prairie. I wanted to give my children a simplified childhood. One with very few electronics. I really took a step back on how I’m raising my kids.’
“I want them to be KIDS and not someone I am trying to keep entertained. I want them to spend their summers the way their dad and I did. I want them to learn how to play Red Rover, Capture the flag, and Marco Polo. I want them to have tire swings, chalk, climbing trees, and mud pies. I want their finger nails to be dark brown from playing in the dirt.”
‘Remember, no matter what the testing results show, your son is the same little boy he was before you walked through my office door.’ She handed me a box of tissues. I still had a feeling though, there was ‘more.’
“The door opened and we walked up a flight of stairs. My legs felt weak and the stairwell felt like it was closing in on us. I wanted to turn back around. I wanted to believe it was all a mistake. I knew it. I felt it. I had been feeling it for years.”
‘Mid-meltdown, my son sticks his rubber snake down his pants and yells, ‘LOOK! MY PENIS HAS MUTATED!’ I scream-whisper in my most ‘I mean business’ mom voice, ‘Stop it right now!’
“Breathe. Everything is fine. We are making memories, dang it! I know, I know. Parents shouldn’t raise their voice. Add me to your prayer list, I need some work. Then, I noticed a silent tear trickle down my son’s cheek.”
‘My mother aggressively combed my curls with a plastic fine-toothed comb. It was painful. If I protested or uttered a sound, Mother would punch me on the head and rake the comb harder.’
“The comb would make a dry, raking noise. Clumps of hair were ripped off my scalp. I tried not to react. If I winced of moved, Mother would just do it harder. She was careful to only do it behind closed doors.”
‘I wouldn’t even let you watch my DOG,’ the attorney said to me. I lost custody of my firstborn, my baby girl. I began sobbing. Then WOW, a miracle happened.’
“I had already seen my daughter, at 2 years old, my ‘angel baby,’ be taken over by this ‘STRANGER.’ Now here I am, years later with my son. I began to see this ‘stranger’ steal another one of my baby’s personalities. I had always looked forward to motherhood. BUT THIS?! Why my babies?!”
‘Mom kept saying, ‘He’s gone. We lost him.’ When I lost my two babies, I could see my children sitting on my dad’s lap, tears of joy streaming down his face. I closed my eyes. My dad was a grandpa.’
“I remember seeing my dad sitting on the couch. I could tell he didn’t feel great. Later that afternoon I was with my mom and sister when we got a call from the local hospital. My dad had collapsed at work.”
‘Baby, I need you to stop crying about everything,’ I said to my 4-year-old son, followed by a heavy sigh.’
“Another day, another sob fest about something that broke his little heart. I will painfully admit, I don’t always handle his sensitivities in the most patient way. ‘Mommy, I’m disappointed I didn’t get a date with you today.’ But there’s not one part of me that wants to ‘toughen him up.'”