Fourteen years ago, one of my kids developed anaphylactic allergies to nuts, and the other was diagnosed with celiac disease and ulcerative colitis. These issues required a stringent diet that forbid not only gluten but sugars, starches, grains and nonfermented dairy.
Just as the tears started falling, I heard, “Angie? Is that you?” And there was Kathy, a fellow mom from a local playgroup. I considered hiding, but before I knew it, she was enveloping me in a hug, asking what was wrong, and I was telling her. She listened and told me about a mutual friend whose son had recently developed life-threatening allergies and how she’d been crying in Whole Foods, Safeway, Giant, everywhere. Soon, we were laughing about gently forking squash, and I felt better.
It was past 9 when I got them in bed. I felt exhausted and, worse, incompetent — a bad cook, a bad homemaker, a bad mother. There was much to do — my husband was away, and dirty dishes and globs of food littered the kitchen. But I ignored it all and opened my laptop. I suddenly knew I had to write. I wrote a vignette of the moments that most haunted me from my four years as a mother to kids with a dizzying array of medical issues. I wrote in the same way I poured out my story to Kathy.
I decided I couldn’t submit my parenting essays for publication. But I kept thinking of the mothers like me, standing in the middle of Whole Foods, crying. I wanted to tell them every shameful thought I’d had in that moment — the hatred and envy of the other moms who were gallivanting around, squeezing melons and tasting different cheeses, the momentary wondering of why I’d had kids, then the instant shame of having thought such an unmotherly thought.
In the meantime, my debut novel, which tells the stories of families involved in a medical experimental therapy, was recently published. Throughout this publication process, my most gratifying moments have been receiving messages from early readers who have experienced medical issues with their children, saying how much it’s helped to see the characters have the same thoughts they’ve had, to know that what they’re feeling is normal.
Grandma's advice: 1. unless you are physically &/or emotionally abusive your children will survive your parenting. 2. Let your child play w/whatever toys they like, it won't affect their sexuality in adulthood. 3. Nobody ever graduated from high school w/o being potty trained.