My daughter has a best friend.

They are the same age, are in the same classes, and have many of the same interests. They enjoy FaceTime-ing each other sometimes and texting other times. They both love smiling, dancing, and playing games.

My daughter and her best friend celebrate each other on birthdays and every day. They are both huggers and are missing hugs during this pandemic. They both bring joy to others and will certainly make you smile in their presence.

There are a few differences between them, too. For example, my daughter’s best friend has Autism, while my daughter does not. Differences are good. Diversity makes our relationships and our lives better.

And wouldn’t the world be a better place if everyone accepted each other’s differences like these amazing girls?

The answer is yes. Yes, it would be for sure.

#AutismAcceptanceMonth

*EDITED TO ADD: Photo shared with permission 

For so long I’ve felt like “just a mom”.

The transition from individual to mother began the moment I became pregnant with my first baby. It is to be expected, of course. A natural blossoming into a role more rewarding and more ravaging than any I had known before. It was amazing and overwhelming all at once.

After the birth of my baby, I felt pieces of me begin to disappear. It was a gradual process, but also all at once in some ways. Over the years, I slipped deeper into the cocoon of motherhood, and I forgot who I was as my own person.

My interests, my passions, my hobbies had all fallen to the wayside as they often do in motherhood. With each passing day, I was less “Mia” and more “Mom”.

Then last February something in me changed. A pre-pandemic invitation to my high school reunion was a wake up call I needed to realize that I didn’t know who I was anymore. Or maybe it was that I wasn’t the me I wanted to be. I had let the essence of myself slip through my fingers as I tried to hold everything else together with a white-knuckled grip.

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This is from Valentine’s Day 2011.

I’m not posting it because it’s a good picture of me (obviously), but it’s the only one I have from this day. And that Valentine’s Day was kind of a big deal.

It was the day before my daughter’s first (but not her last) open heart surgery.

This was a day full of emotions. Not the typical feelings this “Hallmark holiday” may bring up, though. Not at all. This day was full of everything else.

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