For as long as I can remember I've always been drawn to the word FAMILY. Maybe because mine has always been broken. I grew up with divorced parents, starting at the age of 2. And on top of that an alcoholic and drug addicted mother. And I use that word loosely. I never understood what was happening to her when I was little or why she wouldn't be where she said she would be or why she missed my birthdays. I was always told she was sick. And that to some extent is true. The one memory that is embedded in my mind is the time I went to visit her in Texas and I think I was around 12 or 13 and she was drunk walking out of her room and she turned and looked at me and just stared and I will never forget those squinting blood shot eyes and her voice saying who the fuck are you? And I said I'm your daughter as she pushed me down the stairs. I can't remember anything after that and I think it's because my mind has blocked it. So growing up I never really had a mother and my dad did everything from buying tampons to holding me when My boyfriend broke up with me. He is my rock. But moving forward about 7-8 years I meet this wonderful ray of sunshine who has changed my life and given me the best gift I could ever receive. My son. I remember the moment he was born I looked into his beautiful brown eyes and told him, I vow to be the best mother I can be. To try my hardest at all times. I will never leave you. EVER. And he has been my strength and faith and he keeps me going when I think I can't go on any longer. From my childhood heartache, I was given a miracle that showed me just because you were given something bad doesn't mean you need to teach that same behavior or do those things. I learned from it and said I would be better than that and that's what I strive to do everyday.
Story by: Stephanie Orduno