Can’t find your issue?
Talk to us.
In grade three a friend told me, "I can't sleep over because my parents say your mom and dad are drunks." That was the moment it hit me: my family isn't normal.
I’ve always felt different from other people. I didn’t always know why I was different, or what I did that made me different — I still don’t realize it sometimes.
How can a boy expect to fill Dad’s shoes when he leaves?
I became a very quiet child, no longer the happy kid I used to be. I wanted answers. “Why did my mom leave me?” was all I could think about.
The American dream was lining up for us. We were living the life. But there was still this unhappiness, like a buzz in the background that never went away.
Whole days can pass by without any heart-felt communication with my kids whatsoever.
Alone with my thoughts in solitary confinement, my worst fear was never seeing my daughter again. I didn’t want to be the father that my father was to me.
I was different from most girls I knew. I wanted to be a boy.
Our son Samuel was diagnosed with Trisomy 18 at twenty weeks gestation. We were told that this made him incompatible with life. We were given the option, but chose not to terminate.
Our New Year’s resolution for 2015 was to get pregnant. That might sound like a simple thing to some, but for us it was a huge and intimidating goal. It would take a miracle.
“Your baby has not developed further.” This can’t be. It must be a mix-up. When would I wake up from this nightmare?
All I wanted was to be a dad and to give my daughter the love and fatherly attention I never received from my own.
Sometimes my reality was working two jobs to make ends meet while I was raising my girls. I wasn’t sure I was going to make it, and my ex told me he didn’t think I would.
There are days when I have a pity party for myself, when I mourn because I can’t have just one normal day.
Three years ago, my husband breathed his last breath. Then began the most difficult journey I’ve ever experienced: life without him.
Let it snow! Bundle up and head outside to play with the children in your life.
Many of us live faraway from our families. But the digital age makes it easier to stay close.
Is your view of the holidays with relatives an unrealistic one? Commercials and songs can portray a fantasy no family can meet.
To constantly bear witness to the ravages of the disease, knowing you are powerless to stop it, is a huge burden. We want and need to do something to help them, but don’t know where to start.
It’s not so much what are you having for dinner as what is your family doing for dinner?