Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Families.
Pregnant at Nineteen
I was young when I meet my husband. We thought I could never have children. He supported me through the thought of not being able to have children. Then two and a half years later, I got pregnant with my first and only child. It happened one day when I realized I did not have my period. My chest hurt, and my breast was tender. I took a pregnancy test. The moment that I saw the pregnancy test, it was positive. I was shocked and scared about the pregnancy. We had no money, and my husband dealt with a lot of mental health issues. So he worked but not enough to support my child and me. I had just got a job in a mall. I was afraid that the manager would not want me there for the fact of me being pregnant. Then I looked into programs where donated clothes and diapers when the babies are born. Then I went to a church thrift store where they gave me a pile of clothes for five dollars. I was so happy and trying to work and carrying our baby. After I figured out, I signed up for a pantry where I collected a lot for my baby. I got a free stroller, shampoos, and diapers. I stacked up on everything I needed for my baby. I was so grateful that my husband went to all my doctor appointments. My baby girl was a healthy baby.
By Vicky Alcazar6 years ago in Families
My Dad Has Dementia - Journal #4
So far so good today. Nothing out of the ordinary. I’m in the process of food prepping some of Dad’s favorite fruits so it’s easy to grab and eat whenever he wants it. Growing up, fruits would show up on the table…in a bowl…cut up and easily accessible for us to eat at any time. Now look at me. Returning the favor for my Dad when he looks and, more often than not, acts as if he’s totally capable of doing it himself. (He does and he doesn’t, depending.)
By Lisa Akemi6 years ago in Families
365 day journey
Today I think I want to talk about the boys. For the sake of my kids and me possibly putting this online, I am going to call my boys by little and big. This way, I can keep their identities safe. Or at least feel like I am. So for reference. Little is my three years old. Big is my 11-year-old.
By lakishia partridge6 years ago in Families
The Last Hunting Trip I Took with my Grandpa.
Without sounding too cliché, I think that life is simply a compilation of experiences and, in turn, the quality of one’s life is determined by their interpretation of those experiences. So much of our daily lives can be affected by our perspective on the things we encounter and the problems we face. How we chose to deal with certain situations is what molds us into the characters we are.
By Sam Lavigne6 years ago in Families
Life Without My Son
I never imagined being pregnant with my first child would end like this. The feeling of your presence was well known even though I was in denial I knew the possibility of you. Found out I was pregnant with my baby boy when I was four months carried him for 8 months. His passing was so tragic to not know what was the real reason behind his death. I held my baby for a whole day after birth which I knew his spirits was with me when his little eyes and mouth open. No he didn’t make a sound but I felt him take his last breath. It’s been almost 3 years since his passing and it still feels like yesterday when I lost him. Trying to cope with it has been hard because nobody around me understand the hurt of losing a child that you was carrying, getting ready for and for it to all go away within a blink of an eye hurts. Everyday I try to make up an excuse on what could be the reason behind it all but I don’t have not one answer which hurts the most. I wasn’t fully ready to be someone mother but I knew the possibility of how a baby comes without protection but to know my son had peace and love around him brought me a little happiness. I got him cremated and everywhere I go I carry him around because I know his spirit be in my presence I could be tripping or it could be just a feeling. I know and met a lot of women who experience the same thing or similar things as me who I’ve talked to. Hearing multiple women stories and sharing mines helped me cope within myself as well. Losing a child whether u 5 weeks , 5 months or the baby 5 years old a lost is a lost. Depression still kicks in everyday but losing my mother have also taught me how to cope with a loss. Everyday it still hold a hole in my heart feels like my chest caving in like I’m losing my breath when it hit reality that I really lost my son. Knowing my baby could’ve been saved but they didn’t hurts more than anything. Felt like I didn’t fight harder enough to save him. Blame myself for a whole year for his death. Didn’t have nobody to talk to. Feeling suicidal. Wanna give everything up. I get it but I’m here to tell anyone who lost a child that you never alone someone always there to listen and understand the pain you feeling. Every year I celebrate his death date & his birthday which is a day apart crazy right but I just learn how to accept him being gone, live his name, hold his urn every night and pray with him. Some might still call it denial but I call it my way of healing. I’m only 21 years old how I pictured my pregnancy and how it happened two different directions I wasn’t expecting but overall I’m happy he chose me as his mother, gave me a chance to experience something I always wanted. A Family. I never grew up with a lot of love so I knew when I have my child I’ll have that love I was missing. I cherish our little moments in my heart forever that little piece is what helps me get through it everyday. This is just a beginning of my beautiful story. I love writing so expect a lot of stories from me I would love sharing. Writing is like a peace of mind to me hopefully my stories can help one of you.
By Sanquisha Paden6 years ago in Families
Guilty
The night is over, the sun isn’t awake yet. But you are. You in your over-worn pajamas that somehow bring comfort though the threadbare material holds little warmth to your stretched out over-worn body. You can feel the cold bite of the winter morning both in your toes as you touch the wooden floor boards and in your bones as they creak from overuse. You step into your over-used slippers and shuffle silently into the other room. Careful to remain silent as you pour a cup of yesterday’s coffee and warm it in the microwave. You read the ramblings online of other fellow “night owls” just as the sun begins its crawl upward from the horizon. The sky is a murky lavender that scratches at your inner demons. The house is still silent as you sit clothed in darkness. As the sun pushes away the night’s leftover darkness you file your insecurities away alphabetically: Analytical asshole, Bitch, Cynical, Depressed, Enough? You file and file, tuck and tuck, push and push. Until the dusty library in the corner of your worn-out soul looks as tidy as you try to feel. The librarian is a black silhouette against the scarred walls, he chuckles and holds out a forgotten file. Guilt. Guilty. Guilty. Guilty. A hard swallow as you take your day’s assignment and tuck it under a battered arm.
By Elizabeth Kerr6 years ago in Families
Three activities for kids while working from home
This school year has been one that looks like no other we have ever witnessed. In these weird times trying to work from home with kids running around—having a few activities for them in your back pocket is a necessity. That way when they come in for the 13,045th time to tell you that they are bored you have something to *hopefully* give you a few minutes of uninterrupted work time! How can this be done without sorcery!?!?! Allow me to share with you my magic—I mean activities!
By Birdie Smith 6 years ago in Families
Following My Father
We moved from the Oakland Hills to St. Helena in the Napa Valley shortly before the end of the school year in first grade. Dad's decision to move us at that time led to a crisis between my oldest sister. About to graduate high school from Oakland Tech, a school Winnie loved and felt proud to attend, she felt betrayed and refused to go. She arranged to stay with a friend for those last weeks of school.
By Caroni Lombard6 years ago in Families
Adopted & Reunited
Call me Steve Snow. Being adopted at birth, I grew up never knowing my biological family. My name consisted of a first and middle name followed by a number to obscure my identity as part of the process to effectively make me nameless and impossible to trace due to laws of redaction of birth records at the time, if you could find any meaningful leads at all.
By Steve Horgan6 years ago in Families
Diary of a Single Mom
It's hard to find "the one". You think you found him (or her) until you realize they just played a really good game. I guess it was partially my fault. I rushed into a new relationship after the last one failed. And when I say failed, I mean royally F'd up. So when this cute guy came into my life spouting all the right things, of course I had to. Right? It's a classic "if I had known then what I know now" situation. However, I like to remind myself, if I had never fallen for his facade I would never have met my true loves.
By Crystal Traver6 years ago in Families
