July is the month my first daughter that I got to parent was born.
I remember clearly the 4th that year... big, fat and pregnant, just waiting to pop. My mom had decided to come up and camp out until I was due on the 11th.
We were all surprised when our girl didn't make her appearance until the 20th.
What a different scene that was from the first time I had given birth. The second time around my mom was so helpful and supportive that it made me mad because she was so UN those things the first time around.
I mean, right or wrong, her daughter was having a baby. Yet all she could see was my disgrace. My sin. Her embarrassment.
All of that has faded now. I'm glad my mom is in my life and in the lives of my children. I don't know what I'd do without her.
Just thinking....
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