Personal Narrative: Switching The Body's With My Mother

After that thing, my mom merely said I looked ugly , even now , I go abroad, and I always talked a lot with my mom. Not like other students who may talked once a week about some boring things such as how is your life , how are you recently, on the contrary , I nearly talked with my mom twice a day, sometimes nearly 4 hours talking, which made us wont miss each other too

My mother was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis at the age of 40, when I was in preschool. With very few memories prior to her diagnosis, living with MS was quite simply a fact of life. A single parent who was singularly dedicated to her three daughters, my mother trudged unwaveringly through all the symptoms, complications, and limitations her disease inflicted on her. For the most part she suffered in silence, her disease progression so slow and gradual that it was nearly imperceptible to us. She was our family’s rock, her faith in God strengthening her resolve to give us as normal a childhood as possible considering the situation. A sudden escalation of her symptoms when I was eleven altered our lives. Over the course of two months she lost

Hey Nandi, just letting you know that you're a really amazing person. Honestly you're a unique person there is no other person I could meet on the planet that could out weight your personality. I've decided that since the day I was born, BAM, mother-child bond. You've always been a strong woman you've done everything from working two jobs, to go our every school events, and handling our family problems. You're extremely happy even in bad situations and your not afraid to show us discipline that has an impact. You're a woman of few words but when you do open your mouth something extraordinary comes out. You fight for us, love us, your kind to all people, help raise strong people by putting reality in front of us since we were little. The most valuable lesson you've taught me so far is, life's going to be extremely difficult at times but you have to be strong, because you are strong, you can fight, and if you go down swinging better make worth your while. Couldn't ask for a better woman in my life.

“Oh nothing mom! Just playing around, nothing else!” I said in return, while trying to control my breathing. I began to sweat profusely. My cheeks turned an awful shade of red. My legs became wobbly like jelly. I never have been able to lie very well. My mom was at the top of the stairs. She was wearing a pink bathrobe with a lime green mask on her face.

The loss of my younger brother changed my life in ways that I couldn't have imagined at the time of his death, but I was bombarded with so many emotions and undertakings that deeply impaired my thought process.

Now during the third trimester, the following three months fancy and consider the baby’s transformation and how rapidly it will grow in size. A woman will feel awkward during this slice of the pregnancy as the fetus will gain weight quickly, and the baby will become very energetic and sporadically move around. This will be a fatiguing time as walking around feels identical to carrying a twenty pound backpack strapped to the stomach; this creates a counterbalance to walk upright and sends a woman’s spine into a constant state of burring and the contractions will become steadier; all this leads up to the delivery. According to the baby center, the pain of the delivery will be intense and irritating at first it will feel like a bowl movement is about to happen with extreme pressure and accompanied by a greater version of menstrual cramps that start low below the uterus and works its way up to the belly. Finally After about an hour, although the time span can be different for many women. The pregnancy is over and the baby has arrived, which feels like a wonderful accomplishment with a pleased and enthusiastically relaxed feelings. Yet some mothers may feel saddened and at times miserable

have changed because, I’m doing better. Also I have changed my looks in the beginning I would wear my lip piercing; now I don’t bring it to school. i think it was important that I changed because i would always get I think in trouble from wearing the piercing and now that I don’t wear it, they don’t really tell me anything anymore. Now I actually do my make up calmly in the beginning I would always be in a hurry. I think I have also changed I my personality I’m more aware of what could happened if I don’t do the right thing, how back then I wouldn’t even care about what could happen. I think I’m changing slowly by slowly, but I’m changing in a good way. In a few years from now I’ll be proud that I changed my attitude. One thing I have been

You look to your mother to see a mix of emotions cross her face in a fast succession. First relief, then hope, then curiosity, and finally her face

At the age of sixteen I became a mother. Not literally but I had to take responsibility for my six year old brother as if he was my own son. Our own mother was diagnosed with Schizophrenia, Obsessive Compulsive Disorder and Bipolar Disorder . We did not have a mother , she refused to seek help and the place we called our home became unbearable. She was careless , distant, she was would keep us up with her yelling and made up fights. She would threaten us and leave for as up to a week at once . I was the head of the household. I cooked , cleaned , helped my brother with homework, took him to practice and made sure my mother’s image was not ruined in his innocent mind like she had ruined it in mine . I became subject to her emotional verbal and once physical abuse. She targeted me more than anyone once she noticed that her son favored me more than her. All this while being in my first

After years of pretending I was fine, my sister hands me the phone. I force my hands to lift the phone that suddenly weighs ten tons more than it did a second ago towards my ear. It burns against my skin as if it was made of hot molten lava from a newly burst volcano. I notice my mother staring at me while I try to put on a brave face for her. However, I am not okay. Actually, I am far from being okay because inside I am screaming at the top of my lungs but no one hears me. Suddenly, the phone speaks. My father, who I have not spoken to since I was three, is calling me through the phone.

Originally, you and your brother were supposed to have another brother – you were to be born triplets. Of course, it was absolutely terrible on your mother. She was always eating too much and then throwing it up the next morning. The doctors weren’t overly worried (well, not anymore than they would be for any other upcoming triplet delivery) until your mother insisted on birthing you all the “natural way.” No matter how much the doctors advised against it, she stood firm, saying that she wouldn’t be “sliced open like a frog in a high school biology lab.” So, your brother came out first, weighing a measly 3 pounds, 4 ounces. Next, you, at 5 pounds, 7 ounces. Lastly, your would-be other brother came out stillborn and underweight even for a triplet. Your parents were devastated, you mother most of all. She had carried all of you for so long, only for one to be dead; it wasn’t fair, and she repeatedly said as much to your father, the doctors, and the neighbors.

My mother exhaled very heavily and then turned to Gaia, no doubt wanting to leave so she could fall to pieces in private. I didn’t blame her. I was probably going to do exactly the same once the both of them were finally gone. I had already been slightly uncomfortable all day and I wanted to be left alone until they came for me.

On the other hand, I felt as if I had spend my short life until this point, running around, dreaming big, and wishing I could have know more about her before she disappeared again. I

It was strange wearing this new body like a glove, the chemicals were more balanced than my own, the hormones stabilized. Part of me thought I should be bawling, running to the bathroom like I ordinarily would have done, but the other part just shrugged. Maybe the guys were right, maybe the old Sarah was really dead.

I didn’t know what to expect when I opened the door, but when I did I just saw two people sitting in this sitting area that almost looked like a living room. They were both sitting on a couch about the size of a love seat, which was adjacent to another chair. They were both in a somewhat casual attire. My mother was dressed in jeans and a plain white t-shirt. My father was dressed in a striped polo shirt match with a pair of tan slacks. If you looked closely you could tell that my mother had been in the kitchen, with small speckles of flour on her clothes and aims a discarded apron hanging off the side of the arm rest on the couch. My father on the other hand had been sitting at the computer all day. His glasses slightly tilted to the side. The fabric of his pants slightly more wrinkled towards his thighs and waist. I could remember my mom cooking in the kitchen whenever I came home from school. Discovering new recipes and concocting new sweets ready for my consumption when I entered. And my dad would be in his office tapping on his keyboard and the whisper of a clickity-clack, tippity-tap of the keys as he worked, a look of determination etched on his face. Eyebrows furrowed in concentration in comparison to the song leaving my mom’s lips and the smell of food wafting in from the kitchen. You would’ve thought we were perfect. I thought we were perfect. Little did I know that it would leave me so soon. Now here we were almost 8 years later. My mother and father standing in