my3littlebirds : MyBlogHer Profile

This is a house of stories. Although it wasn't- isn't- my dream home, my dreams have come true within its walls.Four years ago this month, I walked up the front porch steps for the very first time. We knew the owners; they were looking to sell in a rush out of town.I'd passed this house a thousand times as a little girl on my bike, pedaling hard to catch up to the big kids. I'd thrown rocks in the creek across the street, trick-or-treated here in my purple poodle skirt.  Read more >

She had a choice, the girl who gave birth to my son, and she made it.She carried him inside her, and I watched her belly swell under t-shirts imprinted with the bright images of a child. She made her choice, and I’d make mine, to call him mine, to carry him inside me for the length of a lifetime.The last time we spoke I’d agreed to drive her home. She cried– not about the child we shared, but about a relationship gone sour. As I parked my minivan by the curb she turned toward me, one mother to another. And in words as dear to me as I do, she thanked me.  Read more >