Being a mother before becoming a mother

Let me start off by saying, I have always been told not to talk about this. "It's none of anyone's business what we do in our home."

I am the oldest sibling of 4, from a family of 6. I am 29 years old, #2 is 27 years old, #3 is 26 years old and #4 is going to be 23 years old this year. #4 was a typical child from birth... That is until one day when she was around 9 years old, she got off the bus and had her first seizure. As you can imagine, this resulted in multiple hospital visits understandably.

Our parents were young when I was born. Mom 16 and my Dad 17. After that day, our entire lives were flipped upside down. While my parents were in and out of the hospital with #4, it was my responsibility to take care of #2 and #3. I was asked to "help" by cooking for us, making sure that the house stayed tidy, that the adults that were supposed to come and check in on us didn't have anything to worry about. I needed to make sure that my siblings were up for school, that they made it to the bus stop, that they were bathing, doing homework and basically just making sure that they were taken care of. It took me some time to realize that I was essentially pushed into this parenting role. From the age of 9-10 years, #4 was in the hospital for probably 10 out of 12 months that year.

After the first year, we FINALLY had a diagnosis. #4 has juvenile onset Parkinson's Disease. She is 1 of 5 known cases in the US at this point. Medications were added, eventually they had to place a feeding tube for nutrition and hydration. She lost the ability to walk, to use her hands, to speak, to go to the bathroom by herself, or to even hold her head up. Mind you, this has been a gradual progression of symptoms with countless hospital visits/admissions, doctors appointments, labs, imaging and other forms of testing. As this journey continued, I remained a good daughter and never questioned any task I was given. I didn't hang out with friends as a normal teenager would, I had 1 extracurricular activity that I remained in after the diagnosis and realization of the strain it was placing on my family. I would do anything for them, I gave them everything I had. My time, my attention, my unwavering loyalty.

During my last 2 years of high school, I had a grandparent pass away. I was then asked to move in with my remaining grandparent and ensure she was taken care of. My granny was crazy. I mean that as literally as the word can be taken. She was going blind and was diagnoses with dementia approximately 2 months after I moved in with her. She didn't sleep, she rarely ate anything more than honey buns... On more than one occasion, I had to call a priest to come and bless the house because she was convinced that there were demons coming for her. She slept with her shoes on, just in case she had to run. But I continued to care for her. I continued my 1 extracurricular activity and continued going to school despite being in the hospital with her off and on and being fearful of sleeping because I never knew what she was going to do. After a year, she was diagnosed with basal cell carsinoma that was on her head and had began to penetrate her skull. At this point, we moved back in with my family. She made it through treatment and was cancer free. Unfortunately, the cancer had already taken its toll and she was placed on hospice care. She died a few months later comfortably at home surrounded by the people that loved her.

After high school, I stayed close to home because I knew my family would continue to need my help with different things. I chose to go to the community college instead of taking the scholarship for my first choice college. To continue to be "helpful" I majored in Nursing. College is where I met my now husband, T. He's kind of an odd one, so we clicked pretty quickly and within a few months, things had gotten serious. After a year of dating, I became ill. As it turns out, I was pregnant with my first child.

The pregnancy was hard. I had extreme morning sickness and at one point T's family had him convinced that I had cheated on him and the baby was not his. T wasn't involved in a lot of the pregnancy, but finally came to accept that this was his child and he wanted to step up and be a father.

Then the day arrived. There she was, a beautiful baby girl. The first couple of days in the hospital went fairly well. But when I got home, things were so much more difficult. I was told, "I've done this 4 times and I got right back to cooking, cleaning and everything a few days later. What is wrong with you?" I was criticized for every move. I was made to feel that it was wrong to take care of myself and my baby before doing the things I would normally do for everyone else. After a month, we moved in with T. We were finally all together and life seemed a little easier.

After talking with T, and telling him all of this, he told me that really I had already been a parent of sorts. He gave me unconditional love and support, he worked hard for us so I could continue to go to college and get my degree going so far as to dropping out of his classes so he could work more hours. It was so difficult for us that first year. We had little to no outside supports. And they say "it takes a village to raise a child." We were the village. I had him, he had me. We would adjust our schedules so while one was out, the other had the baby.

We have been together for over 10 years now, married almost 5 years. We have 3 beautiful little creatures, 1 girl and 2 boys. They are all so happy, so healthy, so very loved.

I never planned on having children. I didn't want to bring children into this life I've had. I didn't want to mess them up, I didn't want to make them grow up as fast as I had to if something were to happen. I didn't want to be a parent after I had already been one.