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As I was growing up； I learned that my birth mother was very young when she had me and wasn’t able to care for me。 I understood and was thankful。 After all； I ended up with two people who loved each other very much； and also loved me。 Three years later； they adopted another baby； Lori。
Until I was nine； I didn’t understand why my parents didn’t have any children of their own。 Then my father explained that they had tried many times； but they were unsuccessful。 Part of the reason was that my mom had diabetes。 Since I was young； I didn’t really understand what that meant。 As I was growing up； I would see my mom give herself shots and wonder why she was the only one who had to do that。 All I saw every day was a strong； beautiful； healthy woman； who spent her life helping people。
When I was thirteen； everything changed。
It started with a tiny blister on my mom’s toe。 This may seem like no big deal； but she ended up losing her toe。 Soon she suffered a stroke； and just as she began to recover from that； her leg had to be amputated。
This all took place over three years。 The toll this took on my family was unbelievable。 My mom was in and out of five hospitals； each doing their best to help her。 Sometimes she was home for a few months； but something always seemed to go wrong。 When the holidays came； my father； my sister and I spent the day in her hospital room。 One Thanksgiving we ate turkey there； and another Christmas we brought all our presents to the hos
