Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Families.
Dear Birth Mother
To My Birth Mother, I was first told I was adopted when I was 5 years old. My best friend at the time learned that I was adopted and proceeded to tell me "Your parents aren't your real parents. Your real parents didn't want you and gave you up." I cried and cried that day. I ran away to the playground (a block away from my house, but for a five year old, that's a whole other country) and sat on the swings for hours until my parents, who had been 20 steps behind me the whole time, told me it was time to go home. I remember thinking to myself that where I had grown up wasn't my home. That I didn't have a home. I don't remember much from my childhood, but that I remember clear as day.
By Freda Mattea7 years ago in Families
The Perfect Parent
What is THE PERFECT parent? I am here to tell you that I have asked myself this question more than once, in fact, I am almost positive that I ask this exact question on a DAILY basis! I honestly believe that every good, no, scratch that, every GREAT mom or dad ask themselves this everyday. The comments I get from others on a daily basis usually sound something like this, "They're too young to understand!" or "You're doing the best you can." I know that both of those phrases are so cliche but if you take a minute to think about it, you will realize just how true these comments are and I am going to focus on BOTH of these statements during this blog!
By Beth Ditzler7 years ago in Families
What I Wish I Knew About: Being a Single Mom and Dealing With a Breakup/Divorce
I have been a single mom for 48 days and holy crap is it hard. Suddenly being thrust into being a single parent is one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. Dealing with my divorce on top of that has felt like a nightmare. How am I supposed to take care of a little person when I feel like I can't even take care of myself? Well, I've (sort of) started to get used to it. I have a long way to go but here is some advice I have picked up so far.
By Ashley Rae7 years ago in Families
My Journey as a Pregnant Teen
Where do I even begin? The last seven months have been the most stressful, exciting, heartbreaking, and rewarding months of my life. A year ago if you would have told me I would soon lay in bed, in my apartment with a fiancé and a baby on the way, I would have honestly laughed. I never wanted to have children, I never wanted to experience giving birth or being pregnant. I didn’t have a serious plan for life; I wanted to graduate and pursue whatever passion I had. I never thought I would lay here and write a story about my teen pregnancy, but here I am, so let’s begin.
By Kyah Alexis7 years ago in Families
Where Is Dad?
It was a Thursday morning, around 6:30 AM. I was jolted awake by the hellish scream of ambulance sirens. Footsteps echoed past my bedroom through the narrow hallway. I heard the familiar voice of Kathy, one of the members of the local law enforcement. Why was she here? As I pondered the questions forming in my head and trying to think of logical answers to keep my mind at ease, I heard the mournful sound of my mother sobbing. I summoned the courage to leave my room to investigate the possible tragic events. I tried to show no emotion and used my excuse of "looking for something to eat" as a ploy to hide the dismay and chaos that was erupting inside of my maddened mind. With my father owning the title of Fire Department Chief, I had become acquainted with most of the local EMTS, which was fine until they showed up at my house equipped with an ambulance and a gurney. As I stepped out of the professionals' path to my parent's bedroom, a body numbing question was forced into my lost brain: "Where is Dad?"
By Cameron Anson7 years ago in Families
Diary of a Venezuelan Migrant
On February 12th, 2014, the birthday of Rossanna. She and Andrea, my two daughters, separately with their friends, left to a protest. That day is not just Ross's birthday, it's the "Youth Day." In my country this is the day in which the Battle of Victory is celebrated. In 1814 a group of young university students, bachelors and schoolchildren, went out to accompany the Patriots José Felix Rivas and Vicente Campo Elías in a battle against nothing more and nothing less than José Tomás Boves, known as the "Urugallo," who commanded the realists troop—the side of the Spaniards in the war of Independence. Thus, on February 12, 2014, in a similar way, but worse, it resembled February 12, 1814, because that day the first young man who died in the protest was Basill Dacosta, as young as those who fought in the Battle of victory; and with him others died in a battle for nothing Just. I have to say that the forces of "public order," Venezuelans like our young people who were in protest , acted worse with their own compatriots than Boves who was Spanish. In the Battle of Victory, the young people who fought beside the Patriots beat the Urugallo. In this of the 2014 on the other hand the authority won, but at a very high cost.
By Rosa Leon F7 years ago in Families
An Open Letter
Dear Momma, You came into my life when I was 16. I was lost, confused, and broken. I had built up walls so high that I thought no one could climb them. I hated the whole world. I believed that I was unlovable. I was angry, but mostly, I was terrified. I had been alone for so long, with only my sister. I thought everyone was out to hurt me, and I was convinced that I would never, ever, let anyone in and give them the opportunity to break me again. Little did I know, my whole life was about to change.
By Billi Jo Mcvay7 years ago in Families
Diary of a Venezuelan Migrant
I am Rosa. I am a woman, daughter, mother, wife, and Venezuelan citizen. Like many compatriots, I left my country in search of a better quality of life. This is part of my history as a migrant. I have been fortunate. I have not touched walking or sleeping in the cold as many of my Venezuelan brothers are doing at this time. With these passages, I just want to tell you a little of what I have lived and learned the last five years. Maybe what I need is to exorcise demons of sadness, helplessness, yearning, and sometimes loneliness; or I just want to say thanks because the circumstances have taught me many things at this stage of my life. Whatever the reason is through these passages, I found a way to do it and I hope someone will read it and maybe can understand me.
By Rosa Leon F7 years ago in Families
Code Brown
Have you ever heard of the phrase, code brown? The first time I heard it was when my newborn son was in the hospital for dehydration (Mommy wasn’t producing enough boobie juice). Like most hospitals, they had codes to alert staff of emergency events. Some examples of what that would be include: code red for fire, code blue for cardiac arrest, code black for bomb threat/other dangerous threats, and so on. My husband, who was curious of what all the codes were called, and what they were used for, questioned one of the nursing staff. After sharing the codes to him, she then mentioned code brown, and then laughed. My husband quizzically asked, “What is code brown?” The nurse laughed again, and told us that it was an inside code among the nursing and CNA staff... standing for, and you probably guessed it, POOP! And not just any poop. Poop everywhere! The patient, the bed, the walls, floor, you name it!
By Daycare Momma7 years ago in Families
Time Does Heal
Hi, I would like to share a story of mine which is a little personal, it is a story about my grandfather. Four years ago in the year of 2014 he lost his battle with cancer. There was one time during his long struggle that the cancer was nowhere to be seen and yet somehow it made its way back into his body. This time the cancer came back even stronger than the first. I was 17 years old when he passed away, being that young and losing someone I had known all my life had a huge effect on my heart and my mind. Throughout everything I have a regret, one regret that will forever stick in my mind. Was it because I was in denial? Did I just not want to see him like that not or did I want it to be real? I will never know but it is too late to say sorry now.
By LeighAnn Connor7 years ago in Families
