SingleMamaChronicles

I was born on a Wednesday.

Sometimes I still can't believe the life I’ve managed to build for myself. Despite the early woes, I made it my mission to find joy. To bring joy. To be joy.

But over the last few years, that has felt heavier. Life has been tougher, and the years have carried real weight. Through it all, I’ve tried my best to keep it together.

I didn't learn much from the home I grew up in. There were no role models for navigating careers, social spaces, or complex emotions. I had to teach myself to be fearless, to figure things out on the fly, and—eventually—to forgive. I poured myself into the responsibility of doing for others what no one had the capacity to do for me.

Getting older has been an absolute blessing. My twenties were defined by financial hardship and relentless strain. Making friends was tough when I couldn't afford a night out or a babysitter. Then came grad school, the weight of student debt, and the quiet fear that I was failing at motherhood—even as I was absorbing every lesson and stubbornly holding onto the belief that things would get better. In my thirties, the ground finally settled. I married, bought a home, built a career, traveled, and deepened relationships with the people who stayed through thick and thin—my chosen family.

Now, standing at the threshold of my 40s, I remember the years I spent desperately dreaming about the life I have today. It’s finally here. All I’ve ever wanted was to make a difference and do some genuine good. In this next decade, I just want to keep being a good mom, a loyal friend, a loving partner, and a truly good person.

Wednesday’s child made it after all.

Baby Lisette....

A month ago, I relayed our harrowing experience with disability services. I was desperate, angry, and hurting for my kid. I could not understand how we'd done everything right and had found ourselves in a position where we still could not get the services we were entitled to, due to someone else's neglect. Here's recap of what our lives have been like since January 22nd:

Week of January 26th - after finding out we had been lied to and betrayed, and that after nearly 15 months we'd been working with the organization I met with our case worker. He never explained what happened. Said sorry a few times. That same day, I called everyone on the DDA list until I got a hold of the Director. It was game on.

Week of February 9th - Research. Contacted all the people I knew who had experience with disability services. I made calls, I wrote emails - I went on social media and signed up for advocacy day in Annapolis.

Week of February 16th - met with the team. EVERYONE. State DDA, check. Leadership from the nonprofit that failed us, check. Allies, check. Came with receipts. Made our case and let them know we were not going to take no for an answer. The apologies kept on coming, the excuses were endless.

Week of February 23rd - We went to Annapolis! Jeremy talked about the importance of preserving funding for independent living and his challenges getting a job because employers don't feel they can trust people with disabilities to do the work. I connected with DDA leaders and pitched my idea of developing legislation to hold nonprofits to the same standards their agency is held to - and to have a system for the public to see, in real time, the performance of the nonprofits. I also got access to all the notes this worker made about our case. I was livid.

Week of March 2nd - Our plan was submitted - yay! I started calling the eligibility unit, the department that would determine if Jeremy was eligible for funding. This was the last step, it was also the one that would take the longest. I was told it could be 3-9 months. I called every number I could find. I finally ended up speaking to someone who investigates and hears out grievances. He heard my story and couldn't believe our odyssey. By this time, I'd also started getting help from someone, we'd spent a lot of money to get him into activities, and we were slowly losing our minds because his emotional health kept declining.

March 12th - We got THE call! I was going through my list of to-dos, the people to call, the emails to write. My phone rang and I got the news Jeremy's eligibility was approved and he was ready to receive services. Seven long weeks later - and it was finally over. I only had 4 minutes to cry and celebrate because I had back to back meetings at work.

Like everything in my life, when someone tells me it can't happen, we can't do it, we will not succeed, I do not listen. It doesn't matter how hard, it doesn't matter how long - I will fight. This was not supposed to be this hard. It shouldn't have taken this long. Every time I called I thought about the hundreds of families that have fallen through the cracks. The many individuals who accept this as the norm. I've cried more times than I count over the last two months. I've replayed every single conversation and I've blamed myself for maybe being unlikeable, strict and overly distrusting. The system doesn't make it easy for us, and somehow even after all this I still believe I can make a little bit of a difference because I don't ever want anyone to go through what we did.

I knew from the beginning raising Jeremy and getting him the services he needed - services he was entitled to - was not going to be easy. People pretend, politicians lie, and families know: the disabled community is nothing more than an afterthought. We're the unfortunate casualties of budget cuts and other priorities that always bump us. Enforcement is non-existent. We think of these things happening in the context of news stories, or anecdotes. Unfortunately for me, they're our reality.

For over a year we've been working with the agency that is meant to connect us to services. We were assigned a Coordinator of Community Services (CCS), and in true Lisette fashion I was on it. We met, we talked about goals, I asked ALL the questions. I started a file. I listened. I was ready to work with our new partner to ensure Jeremy would be set once his graduation from MCPS came. I was 7 months ahead of time. We were set!

Except, we weren't. In March I started to push for planning, I knew the waiting period was long so I'd planned for Jeremy to be in camp for a month, asked for a flexible work schedule with an additional day at home and signed him for up for activities. Why? By 21, people with disabilities are on their own, there's less options through local Recreation departments, and when they are available, they're either too far or in the middle of the day. For this Winter Season, the county offered a total 48 Therapeutic Recreation classes, but only 22 are for adults. Of those 22, just 7 are offered in Upcounty centers near us - less than a third of adult offerings. When your choices are that limited, every day matters. When August rolled around I still hadn't heard anything I began to get very nervous. I took it upon myself to start calling agencies, to research, to coordinate the services my son needed. Quite ironic when this agency is literally billing the state to get paid for this work.

I was successful. I found an agency to provide care. We got the interviews. We filled out the paperwork. We interviewed personal supports candidates. This was it - by February we were going to have everything in place.

Then two weeks ago I found out that our CCS had not submitted our PCP - the one piece that is supposed to put us on track to get services. My world came tumbling down. I called the agency. I called the state. There was nothing they could do - the process was never started. Some of the assessments were out of date and needed to be filled out again. I demanded answers and wanted someone to be held accountable. When a CCS fails to submit required paperwork for a year, there should be immediate notification, supervisor review, something. Instead, there's nothing. I cried and yelled and explained what the last 4 months have been for us: my joyful, kind, happy kid who loves being around people and staying active has become withdrawn, angry, irritable. He's depressed and on edge. He's tired of being home. He reminds me every day what we already know: we're nobody's priority.

So here we are. I'm piece-mealing his care in the best way I can. And I'm paying for all of it out of pocket. As I try to learn and advocate for more options and support, I'm learning what else is out there. I'm constantly finding heartbreak as I come across new limitations, barriers, and lack of interest. I am angry at the fact that our community is constantly collateral to poor policy choices that benefit a small group.

Hi there, it's been a minute. Actually, it's been a year. Just like many of you, 2025 was the year that kicked our asses. All the things that we would fear would happened - did. My job kept me busy, my personal life was blossoming, and somehow I got involved in local politics. No, I didn't run (technically), but I did learn a thing or two. So here's a recap:

January- March

Worked with local Latino leaders to hold our congressional representative accountable for her horrible vote on the Laken Riley Bill. It was the start of building my reputation as a disruptor (in a good way). She didn't like it and as a result I was disinvited from future meetings. But, if I'm not making you uncomfortable, I'm not doing my job.

On a personal note, I began volunteering with a local nonprofit, and learned the exceptional need in our community - right in my backyard.

Lastly, I visited Nashville for the first time. Granted it was only 36 hours but as I stepped into the Vice President role for the Board of Trustees for the Williams Syndrome Association, it was a great way to connect with the group.

April - June

In May, Jeremy walked across the "stage" to accept his certificate of completion marking his end at MCPS. Sure I was angry that the ceremony was in the basement of the old Board of Education building, but getting to experience the joy and pride of the graduates was priceless. Of course Jeremy graduating also meant that we were transitioning to adult services. That has been a journey in it of itself!

The summer came and went - I was diagnosed with arthritis, which had been triggered by stress and my autoimmune disorder. My orthopedic doctor said I could no longer do long rides on the Peloton, and had to really change my workout routine. After a round of steroids and lots of PT, I ended up with the Flu, bedridden for 10 days, an infection, and lots and lots of long-standing issues.

Still, work kept me busy and I spent most of it educating the public on the harmful impacts to our community and working class families if Congress voted to pass the One Big Beautiful Bill Act. I did radio interviews, press conferences, blogs, and lots and lots of IG videos.

The spring and summer were also a time of immense pride for my oldest, my girl Gina. Her business was growing, she was constantly booked and I can't help but feel so much pride watching her take life on and become an amazing woman.

July - September

My birthday was wonderful thanks to friends and family. I couldn't have asked for more as I entered the last year in my 30's. But, by August I was once again at the doctor's trying to figure out why I couldn't get better. It was not fun.

August was also an opportunity to really show out at work and connect with colleagues on a more intentional level. I was reminded of how fortunate I am to have the connections I have, and to be in this fight with a group of people who truly get it.

The best part of the summer was celebrating our 10th wedding anniversary. We planned an intimate party at our favorite place where our closest friends and family danced and drank under the stars. It was absolutely lovely. A few weeks later, Chase and I jetted off to Italy and celebrated for 10 days as we tried all the wine and ate all the food!

October - December

Fall is my favorite season. I love knowing that once October rolls around we are getting ready for the holidays. Jeremy was hard at work at Butler's Orchard and we had finally started to see the light at the end of the tunnel with an agency that would work with him!

In November, I got more serious about starting to do work on the mid-term elections. There are too many elections taking place for us not to pay attention and along with my big brother in the movement, we strategized by putting two events together that would connect candidates with the people. I hosted two events at my house for Josie Caballero. If you're in Montgomery County, please look her up.

Thanksgiving at the house was a total success, and we simply couldn't wait for the Holidays - and the much needed rest that would come with them.

Looking Ahead

Here's the thing - I've gotten older and I get tired more easily and sure I can't stay up past 10:30 on any given night, but this year I learned that time is our most precious asset. When someone gives me their time, they're giving me something they can't take back and I can't afford to waste it. So when I meet up with friends, I make the best of it. When I talk to a politician, I make sure we make the most of it. Time is precious, and it's my favorite gift. As we ring in 2026, I promise to be more present. To be more generous, but at the same time guarded with my time. I'm celebrating my 40th Birthday and while I still feel 27 most days, my hips and the three gray hairs that I have keep reminding me that time does not stop and we must keep moving.

See you in 2026, it will be a lot of fun!

I stopped wearing eyeliner. For a long time I hid behind it. I don't know why, it was my armor.

The truth is the last few months, I've been doing a lot of different things. From scaling back on workouts (yoga, barre!), to taking a step back on volunteering (gasp!), sporting long, bright nails, and the biggest change of all - changing jobs.

Doing scary things is nothing new. I've always said - if the dream scares you, it's worth going after. Finding joy is my eternal pursuit. I'm well aware you make your own happiness and should not depend on anyone else for it. I've learned to surround myself with people who bring me joy, uplift me, and bring the best out in me. I do my best to return the favor.

But all these changes haven't been easy. As I've taken the time to focus more on myself, I've discovered all the voids that I had neglected. I've (re)discovered my power, my potential, and my love for challenges. In the past months I've spoken on panels around financial inclusion, led civic engagement efforts in my community, and demanded local government listen to the needs of their disabled constituents. I've done a keynote speech, gone out on a walk with coworkers at midnight in Vegas, challenged Bankers, and cried so much because despite it all I still can't believe I get to do this. The weight of it all is sometimes unbearable, but the pressure of not getting it done is worse.

Maybe I'm finally letting my true self out. I'm feeling comfortable with the decisions I'm making. I'm feeling ok saying "I don't know." And, for the first time in my 19 years of being in the workforce, ok with taking a "Mental Health Day."

I don't know what the goal of this blog post was; this morning I took my mandatory selfie and realized how big my eyes looked without eyeliner and realized I didn't pack it and felt scared. Then I thought it was worth mentioning how something so small was so big for me. But maybe, someone will find value in what I shared, because even though it seems like I have it together - I'm just another girl who is holding a glass of wine trying to figure it out.

I always admire people who say they're "no longer the person they were before." or "their old self is dead." I thought I needed to get to that point too.

Over the last 20 years, I've learned to define life on my terms. Being a survivor means ups and downs constantly. It's hearing people who say they've moved on, left the past in the past and feeling a sense of failure because decades later you're still triggered. What's wrong with me? you ask yourself. Why can't I move on?

The reality is, moving along is just as fine. Not being stuck, and recognizing there is better. I'm human, with feelings and I'm going to react to factors that are outside my control. Growth for me has been the true measure of success - being able to recognize my past experiences are part of who I am, but not the only things to define me. Being able to have boundaries, and remind myself that I am the only person who can create my own happiness - now that is a true definition of moving on.

I now know 17-year old me made the right choice, and the years of struggle, guilt and shame that followed were only a few tests in the journey to ensure I'd appreciate the destination. I'm not there yet, but every day I'm taking the time to take a look at that rearview mirror and thank that girl for being so brave.

I don't know how we got here, but we did.

I recently shared a photo of you on my shoulders. Back then, not only did I carry you and your sister, but I felt like I carried the world's expectations, the critic's ill wishes to fail, and the pressure to succeed, on my shoulders. Things were heavy. Life was heavy. And dark. And so damn hard.

But there was always joy on your end. And because of the unmeasurable happiness you both gave me I felt strong enough to keep going. You couldn't tell me nothin'!

I take a look at the past two decades and all the joy you've brought, so here's 20 things that you have given the world, things that we love, and memories that I hope will make you smile:

2003 - You came to the world! That's it, that's the list (Just kidding!)

You said, I" love you mom" for the first time! (2007)

The way you've handled 6 surgeries - you've got more courage than anyone I know!

That time you wanted a mohawk haircut so bad...and got one!

When you dressed up like Abe Lincoln and performed in front of the class

Being the favorite at Saturplay! (shhh...no one's supposed to know that)

Our first WS Walk - and meeting our people!

Meeting a pilot and getting invited to the cockpit.

The White House Egg Roll and meeting DJ Lance!

Meeting Luciano and making him your instant best friend - proving you were a cat person

That time you were VIP at the Fair - and got to spend the day with the queen of the fair.

Your face when we took you to Disneyland. So much joy in one moment!

Your First Communion and Confirmation - where you read in front of the whole church!

Being the Best Man at our wedding and your amazing speech

You being a total natural in Paris & Rome

Following a lady around Petsmart because you fell in love with corgis and we ended up adopting one.But we forgot you were a cat person so Versace became the family's dog.

Mexico! Tequila, jet skis, snorkeling, and lots of dancing!

Finding your way through the Albania maze in El Salvador and ringing that bell

Your first job which earned you so much admiration from so many.

Transitions - adulthood. You continue to make everyone proud.

There are many, many, MANY more moments to come. I will continue to worry, and nag, and brag about you. I am immensely proud of the young man you are. When the cards were stacked against you, you effortlessly proved you can't be underestimated and that is perhaps, single-handedly the most important lesson you've taught me.

Let's see what this trip around the sun bring you, my sonshine.

All the love,

Momma

"If we ain't got no money I can make it I ain't afraid of working to the bone When I don't know what I'm do and I can fake it I'll pray till Jesus rolls away the stone

And I'm a riser I'm a get up off the ground, don't run and hider Pushin' comes a-shovin' Hey I'm a fighter When darkness comes to town, I'm a lighter A get out aliver, of the fire, survivor"

Riser, Dierks Bentley

I love moving on to new things. There is so much excitement and anticipation. The feeling of starting something new - different. Good or bad, transitions always mean different.

The past few years have been transition from young mama, to mama, to the parent of two young adults. From watching my daughter not want to spend a single moment with me, to driving all over town for my son to be a part of activities for his mental health and thinking that it would soon just be me. But life is tricky that way.

Now my weekends are spent planning something with Gina, morning walks with Jeremy, and the weird feeling that things come full circle.

Life is perfect in its own way. Learning to accept that your kids have their own lives but always want you to be in theirs is a beautiful thing. The painful, uncomfortable conversations of having been a 17-year old mama of two and making endless mistakes because I did what I could with what I knew and sitting there listening how that impacted their lives.

And then those special moments of thank you and I love you's. The text messages they'll be out all night but are safe. Or the need to still hold your hand when being out in public creates too much anxiety.

Yes, we're all grown, and we've all transitioned into different stages of our lives but I think that at this point, the one constant is that we're always there for each other.

I’ve often found myself feeling angry, frustrated and helpless over the last few years. Knowing Jeremy’s transition to adulthood and the real world is imminent causes a lot of anxiety. There’s a lot of excitement for sure, and so much hope, but also fear and uncertainty - not because I don’t think he can’t do it, but because society isn’t willing to.

In 1987, President Reagan declared March to be Developmental Disabilities Awareness Month. It wasn’t until 1990 when the Americans with Disabilities Act was passed, months after the “Capitol Crawl” took place to demand the House to pass the law. To think that just 33 years ago there wasn’t a mandate to provide inclusivity for people with disabilities is mind blowing to me. But, is it really?

Day in and day out, Jeremy (and his amazing peers) navigate a world that is not designed to include him. We move too fast, we’re too loud, we’re too into ourselves. We recognize students for 4.0 GPA’s and award them with endless accolades. But students like him who have to memorize bus routes, learn adaptive curriculums, and navigate life skills AND academic subjects are not eligible for a diploma. They don’t even get recognized during graduation. Good try, but not worth as much. The school system already sets him up for failure and excludes him from certain jobs simply because he doesn't get a high school diploma. I am excited to see a shift in our thinking around vocational and technical programs because that gives Jeremy and other people who are not able (or don't want to) pursue a traditional college degree an opportunity for a meaningful, good paying job.

We know that people with disabilities are disproportionately underemployed or unemployed. According to the CDC, only about 22% of people with disabilities are active participants in the job force. I can attest to that. We’ve gone to countless interviews, and do not get a call back. It’s infuriating to see that other people don’t place value on the incredible skills Jeremy brings to the table. Think about your places of employment - are they designed to include others? Do you feel that you think about that?

Chicāhuac - Strong (N. Nahuat)

When I was younger, I heard comments about how we should stay out of the sun so our skin didn't get dark. Ser "blanquita" meant you were beautiful. Not India. I didn't understand but I walked around with a little parasol when I went to church.

I never understood why my tia Mila talked about how loved she felt even though she was so "prieta."

The older I got, the more I understood that colonization resulted in everyone associating anything/anyone not white as less than. Colorism and racism are inherently ingrained in our families because that's what was needed to survive. The dissociation with our ancestors was a means to fit in, which resulted in the loss of so much of our culture. I wanted to know more.

Last year I visited El Salvador after 18 years. I went back with an open heart and mind, knowing that points of views had not changed and that I'd be welcomed with open arms because I was married to a white guy (see the story of my family's sense of pride for marrying a gringo). I made it a point to take a trip to Nahuizalco where there is history about the Pipil people and our Nahuat language. I learned so much from the locals, read a lot, and realized that our people had not been spared and felt anger - so much anger.

The visit to the Nahuizalco left a huge impact. Visiting the pre-school where kids were being taught our native language was inspiring and I've been learning everything I can since then. Recently I finally decided to take a DNA test to get a more accurate understanding of my background. The results showed something I wasn't sure of - how much Nahua/Otomi there is in me - and I finally feel like I can truly make my people proud.

For so long I felt lost - this idea to assimilate to make it, to be less Salvadoreña, to speak and look a certain way ruled over my life for far too long. I know it's never too late to dig deeper to find your identity and feel at peace with who you are. So today, as a homage to mi cultura I tattooed a Flor De Izote and the Nahuat word for strong on my arm.

Strong - like my people.

Oh, and the best part - G got a matching tattoo with me.

The year of the Rabbit has started off - well all over the place. I am convinced that it is going to be a good year. Scratch that - it's going to be a GREAT year.

But along with a bunch of plans comes a lot of planning. There's also this newfound sense of responsibility and pressure that comes along with being VP at an organization. I take my job very seriously for 2 reasons: because I know when other young mamas see me it's proof they can too be anything they want to be and because my family came to this country to have their children do something they simply couldn't put into words. I deeply believe I can help leave this world better than it was for me.

But it's not just work that's been taking a toll - my mental health has been a little shaky. The feelings of doubt, loneliness and simply not being good enough have made a reappearance and because my priorities have been all over the place - catering and supporting others - I've forgotten about me. And my body made sure to remind me it needs me to take care of me when I ended up at urgent care last week. Ignoring the fact I haven't been feeling well for months finally took a toll and now things are a bit up in the air as I have to get myself together.

I always say working out and reading has been my saving grace. I've had to cut back on my workout time because I want to get my day started earlier and I have had a hard time catching up with my reading because I'm so tired by the end of the day.

I have a very good feeling about 2023 and I'm not even worried about jinxing it.

The theme of my life for 2022 was acceptance.

Acceptance that there are so many things out of my control that I simply cannot change.

Acceptance that people have lives, get busy, but it doesn't mean they love you any less.

Acceptance that sometimes you have to reach out to make sure the people you care about are doing ok because you know that's the only way you'll hear from them.

Acceptance that I'm getting older, wiser, and much more relaxed about the excuses because I have accepted that getting worked up doesn't bring me peace.

Acceptance that my kids are amazing young adults navigating a world on their terms with bravery and determination that leaves me in awe.

Acceptance that my body is amazing, whether a size 4 or 6 and a number doesn't define me.

2022 was a great year because I controlled my narrative. I found joy in reading, challenging workouts and programs, volunteering (which led to Volunteer of the Year award ☺️), visiting new vineyards, and spending as much time with friends as I could get. My heart was so full.

I felt a profound sense of peace this year. It felt really good to wake up every day and look forward to going to work, learning from others, and embracing this new role I've found myself in where people ask for support and guidance.

I'm feeling good about '23. I'm feeling excited about the things to come. Excited to continue to grow. Excited to continue to heal. Excited to continue to live. I hope your 2023 is full of love and light and peace.

Words have escaped me. That doesn't happen very often.

But I do have some thoughts, and feelings, and I'm trying to put the out in paper because it is so important to celebrate you.

If someone told me at seventeen that I was done having kids, I would've laughed so hard.

If someone had told at nineteen that our journey was just getting started and we would be ok, I would've cried in disbelief.

But here we are, nineteen years later and I'm laughing and crying just thinking about the last 2 decades.

I've been fighting for you and your sister your entire life, which is actually more than half my entire life! Being your momma has completed me, it has pushed me to be better, it has challenged me, and it has shown me so much joy. It's brought me tears, and fears, and lots of doubt, and also so much strength.

Every year I remember our labor day - 36 hours of uncertainty. But much like our journey, I just couldn't show I was scared. I had to keep pushing, literally. Every year I feel like I have to write this letter to tell you I never feel like I've done quite enough. Every year I thank you for coming into the world and giving me so much more than I can ever give you.

At nineteen my fears and hopes are different. I fear that the world won't be so kind, and I hope that you will win it over with just who you are. I worry about what adulthood looks like, and I get excited to know you'll teach me that it's going to be ok.

Much like in the early years, we'll keep walking hand in hand - like we always do.

Happiest of birthdays, J. You truly are a gift!

Xoxo,

Momma

Crazy to think I was eighteen here!

This month was extremely special for me. In person meetings are back and trying to get into the groove of things has been...interesting. But it's also been exciting, and anxiety-inducing, and an opportunity to continue to feel grateful and proud of being in this space.

Twenty-eight years ago I came (back) to the states. As a daughter of an immigrant, born here, I was sent back to El Salvador while my mother made a life, got her papers, and saved money to legally bring my older siblings here. While I never physically crossed that border, my entire life I have felt the effects of the trauma my family faced. The need to make yourself smaller around white people so they don't get mad at you, the pressure to work twice as hard for less money without complaining and being grateful, the importance of keeping our traditions alive. All of it is transferred and I always felt more like an immigrant than a true "American." And because my momma had worked really hard, and I messed up and became a young mama, I had a lot more making up to do.

So here we are two and a half decades later and I'm in spaces where many of the times I'm the only Latinx in the room, and if not, the only Salvadoreña. Sometimes, I want to really call up my mom and tell her about my day and I think about how I'm going to translate it all,

"Mami fui a la Casa Blanca para reunirme con el consejo de politica de genero para hablar de como cambiar legislacion y polizas que puedan incluir madres jovenes - como un dia fui yo."

I think about some of my work and the spaces I am in and how I'm living out the dreams she crossed for, but it's so wild that even if I do share the words would escape me because even I find it hard to believe this is my life. The responsibility that comes with being first generation is real, exhausting, overwhelming; but it's an honor too. Walking the halls of the Capitol, talking to Congress reps and staffers and working to make this a better world is not something I take lightly. Every day I wake up grateful for the opportunities I've been granted, committed to work hard, and dedicated to ensuring that no other Brown girl feels like they don't belong.

The older I get, the more I realize that as much as I celebrate others, I need to celebrate myself. I'm so proud of the accomplishment, and I am so humbled to know that I get to learn every day from people who make me a better person. My Latinidxd holds value, wisdom, strength and magic, and as we close Latinx Heritage Month I want to take a moment to remind my circle that our lives are complex, multi-faceted and oh so colorful. Let's keep celebrating and uplifting each other - there's a lot of work we still need to do.

Over the years I've tried to write about body image and the unhealthy relationship I've had with it since I can remember. When I was eight years old I was put on my first diet. I'm not sure how long it lasted, and it definitely wasn't "successful" but it was the first time I had been ashamed for being overweight. Over the years, I heard comments about being "gorda" (fat) and how I'd grow up and wouldn't find a partner because I was fat. My body started changing and I felt like I had to hide it for fear that I'd be called out for it. And so began my very unhealthy relationship with food, my body, and self-love.

When I was thirteen, I decided to stop eating. I would eat an apple a day - and that was it. Once a week, I'd have a bagel. I lost a ton of weight I didn't recognize myself. No one said anything. Then I got pregnant, and all that was gone. Then I got pregnant again and the comments resurfaced. *Sigh*

For the past 18 years, I tried it all. Diets, calorie counting, working out insanely. Soldier Fit. I was looking for a magic number that was completely unachievable. I just couldn't understand why even when I lost so much weight, I still didn't feel good.

Two years ago I got the Peloton. My goodness I thought - this is it, I'll be fit and skinny and strong and be happy. Two of those things are true. I'm strong AND happy. Through the Peloton community I learned all about self-acceptance and acknowledging my body for what it can do and what it's achieved. Phrases like, "treat your body like it belongs to someone you love" and "self-care is not selfish, it's sacred" aren't just cliché, they're powerful. Working out because you get to, not because you have to lit something in me. Then, I discovered kick-ass young people proudly and unapologetically loving their bodies. Thanking Mother Earth for the food it provides. I started reading how whitewashed the idea of being skinny is. I understood that being healthy is about feeling good, loving yourself, and listening to your body - not the number on the scale and the size of your pants. I cried.

It's taken me *almost* 36 years to love me for me - not for the person I am because I've learned to love her so much, but the body that carries that person. The arms that I tried to hide no longer hide, the legs that I criticized for having too much cellulite are no longer beaten up, and the belly that never went flat after carrying two pregnancies within 18 months of each is enjoying some much needed air in crop tops and two piece bathing suits.

The best gift for my birthday is loving me as a person. This birthday, I won't be watching calories, or calculating the macros of each meal. I'll be laughing and sharing and cherishing the moment as it should be. I'll also be starting my day doing a 90 minute ride because I can, not because I have to. Because working out has made me feel in control of my body and because I do it because I love it, not because I hate it.

Here's to 36 - and more pictures!

My, my where did time go and how did we hit 20 already? Two decades of infectious laughs, of a rollercoaster or emotions, and overall joy of being your momma.

Every year I write a letter and take your birthday as an opportunity to reflect on what motherhood means - because thanks to you I am able to experience it.

The last year has been an opportunity to witness tremendous growth. I'm in awe of the young person you've become - someone I could only imagine in my wildest dreams. Conversations that are so grown up - that I'd be having with a friend and then realize I'm talking to my own child.

You've written your own narrative of success and happiness and I so appreciate you measure it on your own terms. I used to think I'd be successful if I could keep my kids from becoming teen parents and for them to live a life that I thought I wanted. I now realize that successful parenting is raising a person who has empathy, compassion, and love for others around them. Thank you for teaching me that.

I realize the weight you've carried as the oldest and I've learned to navigate the world as I try to teach you how to move in it. The patience and grace you've show me over the past year, the reassurance I did what I could with what I had, and the opportunity to do better every day is a true gift. You sent me off to college every day and couldn't stay awake for when I got back. Funny how tables have finally turned!

Words escape me today, but there's one thing I know - I'm so proud to be your momma. Fifteen year old me could've never imagined this! I can't wait for what's to come, to continue to see you figure out life, for more brunches, outings and shopping trips.

Happy birthday G.

Love,

Momma

Off to school together. High school was wild for both of us!

Off to the college financial aid office we went! It was hot - and we didn't have a car.

You found your calling at MC!

Earlier this week, Jeremy had his wisdom teeth removed. We'd been preparing for this procedure for over six months. Why did it take so long? Well, this procedure requires to go under general anesthesia, and people with Williams Syndrome may experience some scary side effects, some that can be fatal due to their heart conditions. So you can imagine it's not an easy decision to make.

The thing is, I've been making these decisions for 18 years. Jeremy's been through 6 procedures now. The very first one was when he was 11 weeks old to repair inguinal hernias, the very first sign he had Williams Syndrome, but he hadn't been diagnosed, I was 17 and didn't know any better.

And that's how we approached life for the next 4 procedures. He and I would go in, talk to the doctors, nod our heads and sign the papers. He and I would drive to the hospital, I'd say a prayer and we'd be on our merry way back home. Sometimes there'd be some side effects, sometimes we got lucky but I had no time to worry, stress, or feel tired because that's what we needed to do and damn it, we had to do it.

As I was getting ready for this surgery though, things were different. Talking to the doctors and hearing the risks, asking the questions and getting the answers I didn't want to hear made this experience much scarier this time around. The hardest part though, is Jeremy being in the room and having some understanding of what they were saying. Ever had your kid ask you if "they'll make it" after seeing a doctor? I don't wish it on anyone.

So Monday was pretty scary. I was anxious. Going to the hospital is traumatic. This was the first time I had Chase with me, and it was weird. It was weird to go and not have to worry about paying for parking, or being able to step away to the cafeteria and afford a lunch. It was weird to have someone tell you it's ok. It was weird to have my kid be so big and not be able to swoop him up and hug him to tell him it would all be ok.

As your child gets older, there's less and less you can do for them. I'm not ready for that. Until the legal guardianship process is complete, there's very little I can do for him and I'm not used to not be able to advocate for him like I've always done. He also doesn't get why people ask him the hard questions when mom knows the answers. Our experience at Children's this time around wasn't ideal. The chaos in the OR, the lack of sensitivity, the delays. Thank goodness for the nice cardiac anesthesiologist who was the only doctor who took the time to make us feel comfortable and at ease. Who reassured us he had the necessary training to respond to Jeremy's cardiac needs, who assured us he'd worked with other Williams kids before and he was confident Jeremy would be ok. Words matter and his did.