As　I　was　growing　up；　I　learned　that　my　birth　mother　was　very　young　when　she　had　me　and　wasn’t　able　to　care　for　me。　I　understood　and　was　thankful。　After　all；　I　ended　up　with　two　people　who　loved　each　other　very　much；　and　also　loved　me。　Three　years　later；　they　adopted　another　baby；　Lori。

Until　I　was　nine；　I　didn’t　understand　why　my　parents　didn’t　have　any　children　of　their　own。　Then　my　father　explained　that　they　had　tried　many　times；　but　they　were　unsuccessful。　Part　of　the　reason　was　that　my　mom　had　diabetes。　Since　I　was　young；　I　didn’t　really　understand　what　that　meant。　As　I　was　growing　up；　I　would　see　my　mom　give　herself　shots　and　wonder　why　she　was　the　only　one　who　had　to　do　that。　All　I　saw　every　day　was　a　strong；　beautiful；　healthy　woman；　who　spent　her　life　helping　people。

When　I　was　thirteen；　everything　changed。

It　started　with　a　tiny　blister　on　my　mom’s　toe。　This　may　seem　like　no　big　deal；　but　she　ended　up　losing　her　toe。　Soon　she　suffered　a　stroke；　and　just　as　she　began　to　recover　from　that；　her　leg　had　to　be　amputated。

This　all　took　place　over　three　years。　The　toll　this　took　on　my　family　was　unbelievable。　My　mom　was　in　and　out　of　five　hospitals；　each　doing　their　best　to　help　her。　Sometimes　she　was　home　for　a　few　months；　but　something　always　seemed　to　go　wrong。　When　the　holidays　came；　my　father；　my　sister　and　I　spent　the　day　in　her　hospital　room。　One　Thanksgiving　we　ate　turkey　there；　and　another　Christmas　we　brought　all　our　presents　to　the　hos