I believe in family.

I’ve had a tough life. Many people have. Somehow, despite years of abuse and neglect… I have always believed in Family.

At 10 years old, the oldest of five children, I had accepted my own mortality and created a motto. It was “I don’t care what you do to me, I’m going to die anyways… but you don’t mess with my family.” More plainly put, “Family First”.

When I moved out on my own (and I was truly on my own, since my birth family wanted little to do with me) I became pregnant. My world shifted with this new life… Family.

I became aware of what Family could be. What it -should- be. What I had never known it to be, but desperately wanted.

With all of my heart I set out to find the family that I knew in my heart was possible. Who knew that I would find it when I finally stopped looking?

I have a husband, four children and a partner. Four children and three adults. Some might call it an odd arrangement, but something deep inside of me is soothed by the knowledge that I have a family that works.

My children glow. They naturally have all the trust that was broken in me when I was young. My children will never know the doubts that I had growing up: that there was no such thing as a good and loving family.

We trust each other. We help each other. We comfort each other.

We laugh. We cry. We argue. We share.

We dance together, sing together, live and love… together.

We are Family… And this is something that I believe in.