Motherless Mom

  “Bye. Talk soon. I love you. “I hang up the phone. I just fleshed out the Christmas plans with my sister. She is the closest family we have near and will be spending dinner at her house. We are keeping plans and times loose. I will call her after my kids open their gifts.…

  With my pen in hand to update the holiday calendar, I flip the page over to November. It seems like a lifetime ago it was this time last year. I was feeling very down. Not only was my sister going to be in the hospital for cancer surgery and miss Christmas, but I was…

So many reasons to not post today. Yet, its my wonderful daughters that motivate me to write. This birthday is a hard one. I turn 38. My mom never saw 39. Since today is thanksgiving I am going to list what I am thankful for: 1. I am thankful for my husband of almost 19…

  Mere days until I turn 38. While I try to stay positive and look forward to a day of no-cooking, I can’t do it. My heart feels so heavy. My shoulders ache of the pressure.  As I get older, I see my birthday as just any other day-less gifts, still have diapers to change…

  The sun feels warm and comforting on my back. My hands hold the stroller that carries my sleeping two-year-old daughter. To my left is my husband holding the hand of our five-year-old daughter. To her left stands my best girlfriend-my sister. We are waiting for the countdown to begin the CIBC Run for a…

“Who wants more freshly-baked banana oatmeal cookies?” our play date hostess asks. With a quick scramble and expressing good manners, the four children sit down at the kitchen table to nosh on the treats. Kathy (not her real name) smiles at the sight and comes over to offer me one. I shake my head politely…

My head is spinning out of control. I feel like I am on a tilt a whirl at the carnival and it’s not stopping. A wave of nausea has hit me so hard I edge my way along the wall in the direction of the bathroom. The antiseptic cleaners sting my nose, which make the…

I breathe in the cold brisk air. I can do this, I tell myself. And with one big grunt, I heave the garage door handle up with all the strength I could gather. Not one budge. A hot coal fire races around my belly. Every now and again, I forget that the c-section and tubal…

It’s been years since my mother died at 38 years old and I have seen my 38th    birthday with dread. I was happy to never turn that age I considered as a death sentence. Two daughters later, that birthdate is now two months away. The irony that my mom had two girls, and now I…