She remembers me doing the right thing.
She remembers me calling 911 as I saw my brother slammed, bloody, against the ground as she held back my screaming sister.
This story is a very personal one, but it's imperative I share my story. Like many women, I felt conflicted about the idea of wanting more. I was trying to win this war that so many of us moms fight every day. What's more important? My career or my family? I know the answer, but honestly, I couldn't help but want BOTH.
As the cool autumn breeze brushes past my shoulders, I sit reflecting on Colton's annual VCFS (Velocardiofascial syndrome/DiGeorge Syndrome) appointment. I remember the cold, gray walls and the plush, indigo chairs in the psychologist's office. "This is not my regular office," the psychologist said. Toys were scattered throughout the room, stored in clear, rectangular Tupperware bins. Clearly a lot of "evals" took place here, with instruments of distraction to keep the kids busy.