When I was a very young girl, my mother and father divorced. My father was rarely present.  He worked a lot and didn’t understand how to be a father. Truth be told, he still doesn’t.

I knew that my mother and I were all we had.  We did everything together, we never kept secrets, we shared everything.  I had an idyllic childhood, just missing a dad, but I didn’t miss him.  I imagined in my young years that I would have a daughter and she, too, would have a mother who loved her unconditionally, who shared everything, who would be the everything in her world.

The first ultrasound I was given the news that I had a sweet boy growing inside me.  I wasn’t sad, I was shocked.  I couldn’t wrap my brain around how it was possible.  I didn’t love him any less, but I felt like I was missing a small piece of myself.

Then, I felt something. My son was 11 months old. There was something in my heart that told me I was not alone. I knew she was here.  Months later, I was shocked again. I was carrying my baby girl within me.  My forever friend, my favorite shopping buddy, my sweet peach.

This little girl has shown me what strength truly is.  She is so brave, so strong, so magnificent. She began her life so fiercely.  She has never given up. I have wanted to give up. A toddler and a newborn… That is not easy.  I look into her knowing eyes, wise beyond her two years, and I know that I must push on. I need to be strong, to show her that women are strong and can do anything they want to do.

As the time flies by, I see why my mother cherished me.  I understand the ferocity in which she loved me.

I am only just dipping my toes into parenthood, it has just begun.  And, in a matter of seconds, my babies, these small souls, will be starting to grow into their own personalities, abilities, futures.  The time that I spend with the loves of my life will not only mold who they are, but will change me beyond anything I can imagine.