I was lucky to have my mom, two grandmothers, an aunt, several great aunts and assorted other female relatives around me when I was growing up. Lots of love, lots of cooking, and stories...
I don't remember being born, although my mother, Rita Cintula Merges, told me about the problem pregnancy, with being rh negative and how tiny I was 3 lb 6 oz and being in an incubator for 6 weeks and how even when she brought me home all of her girlfriends, most of them mothers too, were afraid to hold me.
One time, trying to let her know I loved her even though I hadn't followed her rules or lived the way she lived, and feeling guilty for all that she gave me, I asked her to write a poem for my birthday present. She did.
I am a december winter baby, born too early, afraid I won't live long enough to get done all that I want to do, and I miss my mom a lot. I do know this: my mother had courage, and strength, and the most wonderful ability to love and give and share, even though she never believed it... I hope I am like her.