bluestar.blog

I’m sharing the true story behind what has inspired me the past 13 years.

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“I don’t understand sh*t your baby’s saying and neither do you. It’s time to do something, Drea!”

Someone I’d considered a close friend stood in my kitchen staging a solo intervention at the top of her lungs, while I stood caught off guard, heartbroken, still grieving the loss of the life I thought my child would have.

Alana was 3 years old and spoke in her own language. Only her little sister, baby Leila, could understand and speak it with her.

The energy of the visit had become thick and hostile. Voices were raised and passionate. My friend’s argument was that I was in denial. My argument was that I was Alana’s mother and that it was my job to die trying.

Then out of nowhere, Alana very gently and quietly did something in the middle of all of that passion and hurt that made my friend and I go silent. What she did changed the dynamic of the entire discussion.

Alana walked over to the shoe rack, picked up my friends’ shoes, walked over in front of her putting the right and left shoes correctly in position for them to be stepped in and tied up. Alana then grabbed my friends’ hand and lead her to the front door showing my friend how to leave.

That was it. It was over. My friend was gone.

The revelation in that moment was that I wasn’t Alana’s mother for the purpose of preparing her to change the world… I had become Alana’s mother so that she would change mine. 

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