My Five Mothers

I believe we are given as many parents as we need to learn the life lessons that are necessary for us. I'm not sold on the idea that it is a predestined contract signed before we all showed up on Earth, but I do believe that there are special people to help us along our way. I also believe there are as many relationships as there are people in the world, so there is an overabundance of opportunities to get things right if that is your goal.


I needed five mother's to get me through. Most people only need one and maybe a good second mother-in-waiting to get the job done, but I had five. I am perfectly happy with the women who I chose or they chose me, to teach me the ways of the world. I am lucky because for every difficult mother I had, I was able to find another who was able to erase the pain and give me a boost of needed courage and confidence.


Let me introduce you to the important women who mothered me and made me whole.

1. Claudia - My biological mother. Through no fault of her own, she was only able to mother me until I was 7 years old, and most of that time she had to share me with my second mom. I honor Claudia because she gave my brother and me all that she had. She has suffered unimaginable heartache in losing her children to an unfair system that she had no control over. I can't fathom having her strength to carry on and live a full life without overpowering bitterness and anger against the world. I am so glad we found each other as adults.

Claudia with my brother Rex, circa 1966. Cuties, right? 

2. Dorothy - My foster mother from age 2 to 7. She was a helper mother to Claudia and made it possible for us to have a relationship with our biological parents. Since we weren't her only foster children and she had 3 biological children of her own,  I was just another child in her home. I had freedom in her home because she didn't have rules or much structure. As an adult, I can see that I pretty much ran wild.
I don't have a picture of Dorothy because my computer crashed and I lost all the photos from a research trip to Oregon that Rob and I took in 2009. I did keep a handful of pictures that were still on a cell phone. The only one that survived from Dorothy's house turned out to be very appropriate since Dorothy only vaguely remembered me and my brother. Even though we lived with her for 5 years, we didn't register high on her list of memorable children. We were just a paycheck to her.

The basement door in Dorthy's foster home. Each foster child signed their name.
 There are A LOT of names on that door. 

3. Virginia - My adoptive mother. She raised me from age 7 to 18. I left on my eighteenth birthday and I never spent another night in her house. I don't regret my decision to leave. Actually, I am confident leaving saved my sanity and possibly my life. I learned more from Virginia than I care to remember, but I do appreciate that she taught me the proper ways to fold towels, clean the bathroom, and how to keep my deepest soul protected from people who would do harm to it. Virginia gave me many opportunities to practice that last one. That skill has served me well as an adult. Virginia did not break me.

Virginia with Rex and I shortly after we were adopted. We were sweet looking kids. 

4. Anna - My healing mother. I lived with Anna for almost two years after I left Virginia's house. She and her husband provided me with food, a safe place to sleep and a sense of stability that I had never experienced previously in my life. Anna wasn't a perfect mother, but she was perfect for me, and I love her for that. She was an excellent cook and my hair and fingernails grew like crazy at her house. Anna's simple acts of feeding me, asking me about my day and listening when I talked, healed so much. I thank her for being willing to take on me and my beaten down spirit. She did a good job with me.






5. Barbara - My teaching mother. I was 19 when I married Rob. When I became a mother at 21, the reality of my ignorance of taking care of children was painfully obvious. Barbara (my best friend Stephanie's stepmother) became my phone-a-mother lifeline. She helped with the daily questions that all new mothers had before the internet made parenting one ginormous Google search. More importantly, when my children were diagnosed with hearing losses, and then when we rushed to the hospital on a regular basis for health crisses', her occupation as a nurse was a godsend because she was able to explain medical procedures and medication in ways that I understood. She was a safe mother for me to cry and wail to, and she agreed it wasn't fair. It wasn't fair my children were sick. It wasn't fair that I had already had a crappy childhood and now I was having a crappy motherhood. When would it get fair? Barbara's wisdom was able to calm my fried nerves and give me hope when no one else could. I love her for her lessons about how to survive when you are so worn out you just want to lay down and die. Barbara taught me how to live.

I thank all my mother's for sharing with me what they had. The good, the bad, the hurtful and the sublime. I accept it all with gratitude.