By Tanya Dodd-Hise
Eight days. That’s how long it has been since my world kind of got turned upside down by my mammograms and ultrasounds. But today is the next step. Four biopsies. I have been suffering horribly all week from dizziness and nausea, and after trying to figure out what the cause could be, I think I have finally decided that it must be my nerves. So maybe it will go away after I get this step out of the way.
My alarm was set for 5:15 AM, so that I could get up by 5:30 AM, shower, and be out the door at 6:15 AM (we had to be there at 7 AM) – but I was awake all on my own by 4:20 AM. Erikka’s parents drove in Thursday night so that her mom could stay here with the baby while we went to my appointment, and her dad would go with us to keep Erikka company in the waiting room while I am having the procedures done. Truth be told, it’s also comforting to me, for some reason, to have him along with us. Meanwhile, Noah spent the night before at my mom’s since it is Spring Break, and got to go to some Xtreme Jump place to jump trampolines with his cousins – so I’m glad he got some fun out of his week off.
We arrived to the hospital early, which shocked me. I checked in at 6:45 AM and they found their waiting spot and got coffee. After a few minutes, they called me over to sign paperwork and get my bracelets, and then back to waiting. Pretty soon I was being called back – first in line – and ushered into the little changing room and given the beautiful gown and robe that totally do NOT match. It’s kind of awkward to be a non-femme dyke in mammogram land, surrounded by other ladies who are dressed in the same little gown/robe combination – only they are typically older than me, with their well-managed hair, makeup, and accessories. Yeah, I fit in REALLY well among them. Soon, I was no longer the only one back there waiting, and the long line of floral chairs against the wall had a handful of matching patients, each waiting for a different thing. Some were there for standard mammograms, like they get every year. Some were there for diagnostic mammograms and/or sonograms, like what I had the week before. And some were there for biopsy procedures, like me.
Because I had to have four different areas biopsied, they had explained to me that I would experience two different methods, based on the area that they were looking at. The first one that they were planning on doing was called a Stereotactic Core Biopsy, and this was the method that they would use to examine the tiny calcifications that were found in the upper portion of the left breast (they were also on the right, but the doctor did not seem as concerned about them). This is where they lay the patient face down on a table (a HARD table, I might add), and the breast hangs down, through a hole, and they do all the work from underneath. Once they had me in place, they bring in plates on each side of the breast to hold it in place and take some images. Once they locate the calcifications, then they clean the area and prepare to numb it before they go in for samples. They used two syringes to numb the area, because I had been very clear that this was what I needed!
This is how I looked on the table, before they started (and that’s why I was still smiling). But that was the last of the smiles, pretty much, for the remainder of my visit there. The table wasn’t too bad, but with no padding bumped up against my ribs, creating some very sore spots.
Once they completed the first procedure, they buttoned me back up and ushered me across the hall to one of the ultrasound rooms, like the one that I had been in the week before. Here, they would complete the remaining three biopsies, guided by ultrasound images. They would be doing Needle Core Biopsies on three areas: masses in both breasts, as well as the abnormal lynph nodes on the left side. This would involve a lot more numbing meds, and several more needles. Now let me tell you, if you ever have to have a biopsy done, and the doctors/nurses tell you that it’s “no big deal” or “don’t worry, they numb you up a LOT” or “it’s just a tiny needle” – it’s BULLSHIT! They are LYING! The numbing meds burn going in, and the biopsy probe needles are SO NOT tiny.
They did the right breast mass first, and it seemed alright. Of course, I had taken two Ativan upon my arrival, so those meds had finally kicked in and I was pretty calm. I also had Pandora radio going on my phone, and my ear buds were piping calm meditation music into my head while he poked me with needle after needle, taking samples of what he needed.
He soon moved on to the mass in the left breast – the one that had started this whole process. It was also not too uncomfortable, and by this one, I was familiar with the process and how things would go. What I was totally NOT prepared for, however, was the last one. The fourth and last biopsy was to be done in my armpit area, so that he could get samples from the affected lymph nodes. Nobody had warned me that it wouldn’t be like the others, with just a little pinch from the numbing needle as the most discomfort. No. The numbing hurt like hell, but when he stuck the big tube in (the one that he used the bigger needle inside to gather samples) and shot the big needle in, I gasped as the pain sucked the wind right out of me. It hurt like a motherfu&*er and made me scream bad things! The doctor apologized profusely, and the nurse told me how great I was doing, I guess thinking that somehow that would make up for it.
Soon it was over, and they said that they needed to take me back over to the imaging room and get more mammograms – two images of each side – so that they could make sure that they got all of their markers in the right locations. Yes, they left tiny coil markers inside of me at each location, I guess so that they can easily find them next time. They got their pictures done and I was free to get dressed and head home. The doctor told me that he would personally call me on Monday or Tuesday, and from there we would be able to formulate a plan for treatment. Whew. I made it through. The nurses also told me that I would be “a little sore” for a few days, and that I should only take Tylenol (which is completely worthless, by the way).
Sore didn’t begin to describe the pain that has been going on since having this done. Especially under the arm where he went in for the lymph node samples. This is my left side, with the bandages under the arm (lymph nodes), the top side of the breast (that was the first biopsy site), and the underside of the breast (where the large mass is). Dear God do you see how swollen my boob is???? Yeah, not comfortable. At all.
So now it is Sunday, two days out. I’m still really very sore, with a lot of pain in my underarm area. It has been hard, because I am not supposed to pickup the baby until three days out, nor can I swim or take a bath. Tonight we are supposed to go out to dinner with the family to celebrate Noah’s birthday (which is tomorrow), and my daughter-in-law’s birthday (which was a few days ago). Erikka will help me take a quick shower later and wash my hair, since raising my left arm for any amount of time sends hot, searing pain into my arm. Another step down, with many more to go, I am sure. One step at a time, and hopefully I will get this gone for good.
Originally published on Domestic Dyke.
By Tanya Dodd-Hise
Tuesday and still no appointment for the tests. I am going nuts. It is so hard to not lose it, melt down, and really let myself actually come to grips with how scared I am. I KNOW that IF I do have a bad diagnosis that it is VERY treatable. I know this. It doesn’t change the fact that not knowing is probably scarier than knowing – because with knowing comes a plan of action. Right now I have nothing to go on.
I got so excited when I saw the number calling on my phone just before lunch today. I quickly answered it, while sitting in my Jeep in the parking lot of Walmart, and answered all of her questions regarding my information. After ten minutes and going through everything that she needed to know to get me into the system for the program, she tells me that she has me all in, along with my doctor’s order for the tests, and that a nurse will be calling me to schedule my appointment – within the next FEW DAYS. Oh dear God are you serious? I mean, I know that I’m not the only one, but REALLY? I hung up the phone, near tears, and realized that THIS is life for the uninsured with a possible serious medical condition.
Now don’t get me wrong – I am extremely grateful and thankful for the programs that are out there available to men and women who are uninsured or underinsured, so that they can get treatment and/or help in the event of a serious medical condition. But there is most definitely a difference in how treatment timeframes play out between the insured and the not. When I found a small, pea-sized lump in my right breast in 2008, I still had insurance through my job. I made one phone call to my doctor, got in the next day, and got the order for the mammogram. I made one phone call to the mammography department at UT Southwestern and made the appointment for probably within a day or two. I went, I got the test done, and got the results right then. Had there been something to worry about, my doctor would have referred me to a surgeon for a biopsy probably, and I would be on my way with my treatment. This time? I made several calls before I realized that I needed to go to my doctor for confirmation. Fortunately, they got me in same day and got me the order I needed. Unfortunately, it was two phone calls and a message left before I spoke to a person regarding the program that would provide the diagnostic tests. She got some information and requested the order be faxed; then told me to wait. Then today’s phone call came as a teaser, because then I was told to wait some more for yet another phone call. Once I get THAT phone call, who knows how long I will have to wait before I actually get to have the testing done. I don’t even want to think about the wait for the next step, if a next step needs to be taken. And the reason for all of the waiting is because I am not the only one with a suspicious symptom who doesn’t have insurance; and this is one of the few programs in the metroplex who offers low cost or free diagnostic screenings – so they are constantly backlogged. I understand that and can appreciate that.
I just. want. to. know.
Originally published on The Domestic Dyke.
By: Brandy Black
By Brandy Black
It’s easy for a company like Chick-Filet to put money behind organizations that are anti-gay marriage when they have no association with these couples who are aspiring to have equal rights. But what happens when you put a face and a story behind the labels? Does it make a difference?
My wife and I were recently asked to participate in this project “What if you couldn’t marry the person you loved?”
By Tanya Dodd Hise
So what has been going on around Dodd-Hise Paradise since the adoption excitement three weeks ago? Life as usual – never stopping and moving at breakneck speeds. It is rare that we are just sitting around, without anything to do or anywhere to go. Some days it drives me crazy to be so busy all of the time; other days I am totally comfortable in the ADHD world in which I live.
The end of August came and went, and Noah started back to school, beginning the 7th grade. Last year was a struggle for most of the year, both socially AND academically for him. We had all spent many a breath over the summer talking to him about chalking up 6th grade as a learning experience, but now it is time to get it together and take care of business. His mornings now consist of tennis practice before school, advanced classes throughout the day, sectionals and/or band practice each day after school. It is my deepest hope that all of these activities will be enough to fill his time and keep trouble at bay. He still is adjusting to having to get up quite a bit earlier than before, and our mornings have been a bit rocky, to say the least. He still doesn’t have the door back on his bedroom (from having it removed over the summer), and has very limited video game privileges. Our main goal in life with Noah right now is to help him succeed in all that he is doing right now: academics, tennis, and band. For some families, we understand that these things come easy and there is rarely an issue with making sure that they’re done. For other families with extraordinary children, it takes more creativity, structure, and observation. Many outsiders look at us interact with Noah and say that we are too hard on him, or that we should cut him some slack, give him a break. But they haven’t had to help get him out the door on time before school. So I am currently reading some books to help us with re-direction, as well as working WITH him in those areas in which he struggles. I am hoping that we can quickly implement some new strategies that will take some of the stress off of him, as well as us, and give us all some relaxed mornings.
Harrison is now 10 ½ months old, if you can believe THAT! Since the adoption, absolutely nothing has changed in her little world. She still has her two mommies that love her beyond anything else that she has ever known, and the addition of the adoption papers meant nothing whatsoever to her. For me, it means the world (obviously), and while nothing has changed in my heart or mind, it has taken the legal weight of the world OFF of my shoulders and given me the security that I needed to finally relax for my family.
Nicholas and Krystal Fay, as some of you may remember, are expecting a baby at the beginning of January. She is about 23 weeks along, I believe, and it has taken me most of that time (since they told us at around five weeks) to get used to the idea of even being a grandmother. For a while there, I couldn’t even bring myself to SAY the word – mainly because I felt way too young, not because I didn’t think I would love the little tot! And besides, Erikka is going to be 37 when their baby is born – even younger! But it is what it is, and I am okay with the fact that they love each other and seem to have a strong and secure marriage. Yes, they are young. But I told Nicholas that I was young when he was born, and that he just needs to get used to us older folks making comments about the fact that they are young – it’s true! We found out in the last couple of weeks that the baby is a girl, and can’t wait to welcome Zoe Nora-Jayne into our family. I hope that Harrison and Zoe become the best of friends from the beginning, and I know that Noah will be a fantastic uncle. After talking to a new friend the other night at dinner, and discovering what HER grandkids call her, I decided to totally steal it and use it for Zoe. I will be…YaYa! Doesn’t sound grandmotherly, just like I wanted! The process has already started in going through Harrison’s things and loading them up for the kids to take home for Zoe.
Erikka and I are just cruising along, doing our thing like we do, and already anticipating Harrison’s first birthday at the end of October. It’s hard to believe that a year has already passed almost, but yet, it has. We look at her and think of how much she has changed in ten short months – the time went too quickly! Erikka is working all the time: full-time as an attorney, and part-time teaching business law classes online. I have several photo shoots scheduled at Noah’s school for various groups, as well as some family holiday shoots on the books already. We are so blessed to have the opportunity for me to stay home with Harrison, and to work when I can. And we are so thankful for all of these blessings that we share in this crazy life with our amazing kids (and soon-to-be grandkid). Life is good!
By: Shannon Ralph
Like most people out there—with the exception of those born with congenital defects, those who fell victim to illness or accident, and Cyclopes (that’s the plural of Cyclops…I looked it up)—I was born with two eyes. Mine are green. I like them. I think they are keepers. Whatever color it happens to be, the human eye is an amazing machine. In most circumstances, my two green eyes are quite sufficient for any and every purpose I can imagine. With two eyes, I can watch television and peruse Pinterest at the same time. With two eyes, I can update my Facebook status while skillfully shoveling potato chips in my mouth, rarely losing even a crumb. With two eyes, I can write this blog while keeping an eye out for the mailman bringing my latest package from Zappos. All in all, I have been fairly adept most of my life at multi-tasking with my two eyes.
Lately, however, two eyes are proving themselves insufficient. It’s a simple matter of mathematics really. I have two eyes and three children. Despite my best intentions—despite my best efforts to give them each my undivided visual attention—I find myself falling short.
“Momma, watch this!” “Momma, look at me!” Momma, look what I can do!” “Momma, are you watching?” There is a limit to the watching one parent can do. By the 45th failed attempt at a handstand, my eyes begin to glaze over and I find my gaze swerving away from my adorable child and toward the clock. Or the television. Or my cell phone. Or the refrigerator. Or the bathroom. Or the steak knife lying on the kitchen counter. Perhaps impaling myself on a steak knife would end the misery once and for all?
I try. Really, I do. I try my best to give my children the attention they deserve. The attention their little psyches crave. But I am weak. And they are relentless. I simply do not possess the stamina to “watch” them for a minute longer than is absolutely required. I can’t do a moment longer than I am legally and morally bound to do as one of their primary care-givers. They know I am an inadequate parent, but it does not stop them. They keep coming. If I am being perfectly honest, I don’t care how high they can jump. I don’t give a rip how long they can stand on one foot. I don’t care in the least how long they can dangle limply from a monkey bar. Of course, I feign interest with my children as all good parents should. But I can be honest here. Most of what they ask me to watch on any given day is tedious enough to put this mom into a glassy-eyed coma. When the day comes that my children say, “Momma, watch me order you a pair of shoes online for 50% off the regular price” or “Momma, watch me vacuum the entire house while you lounge on the couch sipping the margarita I just made you” then they may have my undivided attention. Until then, I will fake it. I will continue to watch my three children with my two eyes.
Just another mom performing a feat of mathematical genius.
By: Brandy Black
By: Selina Boquet
Remember that really horrible present you got for your birthday as a kid? The one that told you what you should like because of your age, or your sex, when your personal taste was far from the stereotypical norm? Perhaps you were a little pigtailed rough ‘n tough girl who received a frilly dress from Aunt Carol, or a sashaying delicate boy who was graciously given a football helmet and cleats by Uncle Pete. Presents from well-meaning friends and relatives can easily pressure gender roles upon unsuspecting little people who do not fit into neat little gender boxes.
One the most offensive presents I ever received was a New Kids on the Block Sweater from JC Penny from Grandma. I remember I was seven years old and greatly disturbed that Grandma thought I listened to such music. All of my friends were obsessed over the ‘cute boy band’, yet that was not me. No way was I going to drool over some silly boys. Yes, I was a lesbian even at age seven.
I do sympathize with my grandma a bit more now that I have my own children and I’m actively trying to raise them without gender role stereotypes. It’s not as easy as I thought it would be. I’m trying to listen to my children carefully. I’m trying to buy them things not just because I want them to have it or because society or my family thinks that they should have it. I find this simple task to be surprisingly difficult. In my fight for raising children who truly live authentic lives there are many obstacles to tackle. The first obstacle is myself.
When I began planning for my twins’ seventh birthday I had no idea what wonderful adventures were in store for me. I would be forever changed as a mother. I would feel a little older and a little wiser for having survived such a plight. I wanted this party to truly be of their own unique design and creation.
Keeping up with my perception of these ever-changing children of mine can be confusing. When did they grow up so fast? Yesterday they were little twin babies suckling and cooing and today they’re listening to Justin Beiber on their headphones. No more princesses, no more Caillou; my kids are growing up. I wanted them to have another sweet little baby party. You know, with pastel colors and the comforting characters from my own childhood like Care Bears and Strawberry Shortcake.
In Party City, picking out their birthday décor, I had to stop myself from interfering with Savana’s eclectic style. She chose Monster High, which makes me feel extremely old because I had no idea what that is. They look like Brats dolls dressed as monsters. This frightened me at first because I realized that she was changing. Change is scary. Despite my passion for instilling autonomy in my children, at this moment I felt some primal motherly instinct scream deep inside of me,
“No! You’re getting Disney Princesses and that’s final!”
Instead of blurting this out, I bit my tongue and let her choose exactly what she wanted. Upon taking a closer look, I realized that the dolls had some very androgynous characteristics. The gift bag sets came with mini skateboards and black and white marbled ‘decomposition books’. What’s more the feet on these dolls are enormous just like mine! They wear great big, stylish drag queen heels. (I wear size 11 and I love drag queens because they can find the cutest heels in our size! I need a drag queen bff so I can double my shoe closet.) Maybe these dolls were not so bad after all. I mean even the dolls themselves are monsters. That’s a stereotype-bending paradox right there. Aren’t all monsters boys?
Ezekiel, my sweet little monster boy, stuck with the good old fashioned Hot Wheels Cars as his theme. Safe and non-threatening. It was the selection of his birthday gift that threw me for a bit of a loop. He wanted drawing pencils. Drawing pencils?! For a seven year old? I know he loves to draw and he has a special talent, but I had my doubts that a set of charcoal drawing pencils from the art store would be more exciting to him than the latest greatest new toy. Yet after the party, when all was quiet and the last guest had gone home, I peeked into his room. He was there, happily drawing with his new pencils and his new easel, listening to Adele. He looked so mature, so unique, and so authentic. My heart filled with joy. I had given him tools to nurture his soul. Maybe this growing up thing isn’t so scary after all.
When I asked my soon-to-be seven-year-old daughter Savana what she wanted for her birthday, she said she wanted a skateboard. When we searched on the Internet, she pointed at each feminine looking skateboard, exclaiming that it was the perfect one. Great! What an easy present to buy right? Wrong. I thought I’d just drop into Target, Toys R Us, or Big 5 to pick one up. However, in each store that I went to, I only found boyish looking skateboards with flames and dragons. I should have ordered online, but it was too late. With each failed attempt, my persistence grew.
Grandma and Grandpa (on their dad’s side) added fuel to the fire. They gave Ezekiel a skateboard and Savana received clothes. Girls can ride skateboards too! The gender stereotypes were coming at us from all different angles. Finally, a friend helped me find a discounted purple skateboard at the Enjoi Warehouse where she used to work. We found Savana a professional skateboard complete with a panda and rainbows painted on the deck! Gotta have the rainbows. Savana was elated when she opened her present! Just what she wanted. Now let’s hope she doesn’t break any bones.
The day of their birthday party is somewhat of a blur of screaming kids and the scorching summer sun. The kids all jumped, danced, and played their hearts out. My favorite part was seeing that my kids felt free to reveal their own personal style. I could feel the joy in both of them as their individuality was celebrated that special day.
Creating cookie cutter Dick and Janes is the greatest form of discrimination. When I was in church, the homophobic environment created dark, bold lines between gender roles. We were definintely taught that women were inferior to men. I suppose this might be part of the reason why gender neutrality is so important to me.
Right now I’m currently working on un-brainwashing my kids and trying to shake them free of their gender molds that the church and society has pressured them into. We all know that we teach our children more with actions than we do with our words. I can tell my kids a million times that they can be whoever they want to be but if I don’t take the time to listen to their heart and cheer on their passions, then my words fall meaningless.
Where’s the guidebook for newbie lesbian single moms who are dating? I want one. I want the book to be just like “What to Expect When You’re Expecting”. I want to know how I will feel and what symptoms I will experience at every stage in becoming a newbie lesbian single mom. I would call it:
What to Expect When You’re Lesbianizing
The First Month: After one month of being out of the closet as a newly single mom you should expect to feel very lonely and shut off from the world. You may feel tempted to sleep with anything with a vagina and run through the streets naked. Focus for this month: self-control. Buy yourself a vibrator and stay at home with locked doors.
The Sixth Month: Now that six months have passed and you were too busy talking to girls on the Internet to take the advice from the first month, you need to get out of that relationship you fell into with the first girl that said hi to you. It will be painful and heartbreaking even though you never really liked her in the first place. Focus for this month: Cleaning up after the reckless abandonment of the first few months.
One Year: Congratulations! You have made it through the most difficult stage! If your kids are still alive and you haven’t remarried yet then you have passed the test with flying colors! You can now expect to feel like you know everything and can conquer anything. While the latter is obviously true, you must know that you do not know everything. Stay close to true, honest friends who know you and can give you an outside perspective and don’t get too caught up with the crazy world in your head. They’ve put up with your shenanigans for the past year -now it’s time to not only appreciate them, but start giving back. Focus for this month: Nurture true friendships.
A guide such as this one would be helpful! When I was pregnant I always had my “What to Expect” at my side. It comforted me. I think that what scares me so much about being a new lesbian single mom is the fact that my perspective in retrospect is so much different than my view of the situation when it is occurring. I feel like I am growing in the area of making decisions more from an objective viewpoint and not simply relying on my emotions at the moment. Growing is a good thing.
Now I’m at a new stage in my lesbianization and as per usual, things can be confusing in these unchartered waters without trusty said guide. I’m trying to date without emotionally terrorizing my kids. Like all caring moms, I want to raise emotionally healthy children with the ability to trust and build healthy relationships. And like most new lesbians, I’m excited and curious about this new world I live in.
The balance between the two is the challenge.
My kids have really connected to two of my exes and it’s difficult when they ask for each of them. I explain to my kids that they are still our friends, but we just don’t see each other as often anymore because we are doing different things. Life is like that, I explain. Sometimes you are friends that hang out all of the time and then people grow and change and you go separate ways.
I’ve tried to be selective about who I introduce to my kids, but now I know that I need to be even pickier about who meets Savana and Ezekiel. I had debated this advice before. I had said that with my case it was different. I argued that kids are most affected when the girlfriend/boyfriend fulfills a parenting role. My kids have plenty of parents, they have a mother, a father, and even an uncle in their daily life. My girlfriend will be an addition to the equation, and will not cause much heartbreak if it doesn’t work out. But now, after the break-up, when my kids ask for her -there is a sadness in their eyes. Although the best relationships can turn bad unpredictably, having my kids suffer over my break-up is something I want to protect them from at all costs.
Because of this, I’ve been attempting to hide my dating life from them altogether. Do you know how difficult that actually is? Not bringing my date over to my house, and going to hers? That must be possible in other cities where the price of rent is rational, but here in LA, all of the houses and apartments are filled with roommates, family members, and kids. We have to be silent ninjas.
I think they understand me in Japan. There, they have hotels you can rent by the hour and it is considered commonplace for a couple to rent a room to get their business done. This way, the visitor is not caught trying to sneak out the back door in the morning by a tiny person asking, “Mommy, who’s that?”
By: Carol Rood
I live in a step family. However, the politically correct term is now “blended family”. Whatever you decide to call it, my experience is that blending two separate family entities is a struggle, to say the least.
I have written about the difficulty in merging my children with my partner and her children. One of her children resisted the “blend” and ended up going to live with her father. This was very painful for my partner, as she didn’t see it coming.
I had been struggling to connect with her child, and no matter what I tried the child would ignore me, or be rude to me. The child was rude to my children as well. It was a very uncomfortable situation, but we were talking a lot and doing our best to make it work. I thought things were getting better.
Then one day when Bluebell (my partner) came home from work, she noticed a paper on the door. It was a court notice that her ex-husband was petitioning the court for custody of her child. No notice from her ex or her child, just a notice on her door. It was a loud night in our house that night. She approached her child and tried to find out what was going on. Her child said she was so unhappy living with me and my two kids that she had asked her father to petition for custody of her. She wanted to go live with her father and stepmother. My partner was heartbroken.
Bluebell’s daughter did end up going to live with her father, and believe it or not, after she left we were able to finally blend our family. We still had bumps, but it seemed as though things went a bit smoother. Without the negative energy running rampant through our house we were able to work together to merge the boys to some sort of family unit.
It was still not completely smooth. Bluebell’s daughter would call her from school crying about how she didn’t feel well and her stepmother would refuse to pick her up. So Bluebell would leave work, and drive to get her daughter to take her home to her father’s house. That happened many times. Then there were the times she called Bluebell complaining about her stepmother. Then we had to put her daughter on our cell phone plan because she needed a phone and her stepmother wouldn’t help her.
These episodes caused tremendous stress on my relationship with Bluebell, mainly because her daughter was still disrespectful and rude to me anytime we saw her, and I had a problem with that. I could understand not wanting to be friends with me. But I never understood the blatant disrespect. I never understood why Bluebell allowed her daughter to treat me in that way.
This continued for almost two years. Then came the fateful day Bluebell got a call from her daughter stating that stepmama was “kicking her out” and she had nowhere to go. Of course Bluebell drove straight down to get her, and brought her to our house. Thus began a really difficult chapter of our family life and our relationship. It was May of her daughter’s junior year, and we lived in a town about 45 minutes from her daughter’s school. So regardless of the way I had been treated and was still being treated by her daughter I had to drive her to school every morning for three weeks until school was over. I never received a kind word, or any thanks.
We changed the living arrangements in our house so Bluebell’s daughter could move in with us to finish her last year of high school, and provide her with a stable family life.
As I am sure you can imagine, we were all in for a difficult year.