Personal Statement : ' Extraordinary Moments '

It was my senior year in high school when my mom told me that my cousin, Mayra, had given birth to a baby girl. However, child protective services decided that Mayra wasn’t adequate to take care of the child; due to her drug abuse. Child protective services from Mexico were trying to place the baby with close relatives. Sadly, there was only three choices, her grandma, my aunt Gloria, and myself. The choices were few and the family small.

I casually walked through the park on a crisp summer day with morning dew smell still lingering in the air. Nobody is out during this time as usual. Only people awake during this hour are morning joggers and dog walkers. Of course, there was also a mother who was playing with her toddler. She catches her chocolate-brown son and tickles him, and they laugh and trip and fall together onto the floor and laugh harder. I walked by just to say hello to them as they waved back to me. I had set myself to wake up every day at this time and start running laps around the neighborhood to help lose weight. I recall running to every single spot in town on the blocks from Lang to Richland Lane were buildings in wild assortment: two drugstores, Henry Clay Frick's mansion with

I could not sleep. Just knowing that if I did choose to close my eyes they might get a hold of Célianne’s baby. Older men watched her sleep.. She had her fingernails buried deep into the stillborns back. I want her to let go. “C-Célianne” I whispered. Whispering was not going to get her attention, but I did not want to draw attention too. I tapped her shoulder while others on the boat talked loudly. “Célianne j-just let the b-baby go” was all I could say. Waiting for her to wake up tear droplets fell. She sniffled time from time ,but never stopped letting the tears fall. Her grip got tighter on the stillborn. She was finally awake, but her eyes never opened. The sound of the ocean was all were heard, the smell of sweaty dirty bodies were all we smelled, and the looks of defeat were all we witnessed. “T-This is my baby” was the first thing she said. She repeated it a few more times to reassure herself. “THIS IS MY BABY. This is my baby and none of you will take this baby away from me” Célianne eyes were bloodshot red and by the

‘I don’t want to lose her,’ I kept repeating in my head trying to look strong for her. I was trying to not show how scared I was, trying to stop bursting into tears the second I saw her in the state she was. She was so weak and there was nothing I could do to help, except stay out of the doctor’s way. There were nurses and doctors rushing around and giving me a strange look until realization dawned on them. I was at the hospital with my mom around 10 at night, in my pajamas, wondering what was going to happen to her and if she was going to be okay.

Although memories don’t exist for me prior to my adoption as I was only nine months old –there are recordings of this consequential event. These videos were recorded by a family friend; however, at the time of the recordings my mother and grandmother had only just met our soon-to-be lifelong friends on the plane to China. In the video, the moment when my mother meets me for the first time is when I consider my life starting. My mother was calm through the chaotic event. The video shows my mom taking me from the caretaker’s arms and holding me. The one part of the video that surprises me is that I begin to cry the moment I’m in her arms; almost as if I were a newborn being held for the first time. Depending on the person, there are many different reactions to a baby crying – some panic, while others are composed and collected. My mother was able to soothe me to sleep despite the noisy disorder around us, almost as if we were the only two people in the room. I guess that’s the effect of a mother’s gentle touch. My

Staring down at the baby; my baby in his little plastic box, I was overcome by a fear I had never felt before. I would later find out that his box was called and isolate, a special bed for premature babies. His eyes were covered with gauze, he had a tube in his nose that was assisting his breathing, and he was so small. Awestruck, I watched his slight movements. His mouth moved as if he was searching for something. His tiny hands grasped for something to hold on to. I slowly reached my finger to his hand and he clutched it with all of his little might. His grasp sent shock waves of love through my body that I had never experienced in my life. I was a mother.

The parents, usually composed, weep quietly while holding their baby in the recovery room, now with new hope for their child’s future. Can you imagine handing over your child to a group of strangers (most of whom do not even speak your language) for a life changing surgery? For most of these children, this is their only chance for a normal life.

She pressed the child close to her and with an unmovable gaze tightened her grip on him, taking in every detail. I paused and watched. I knew that as soon as I told her, the same creamy white walls of the hospital room that once held her uncontrollable euphoria over the birth of her son, would seem harrowing and confining.

As a first time mom it’s hard to know exactly what to do after hearing your child scream for minutes on. Emily’s mom tries to comfort her but it fails, “when she saw me she’d break into a clogged weeping that could not be comforted, a cry I can hear yet” ( 559). In this statement its clear to me that Emily’s mother has problem nurturing her. A child typically finds comfort in a mothers touch and will eventually stop crying. The fact that Emily’s mother could not console her in these times leads me to believe it grew into a bigger problem the older Emily became. Being a working mom is not always easy but mothers manage long hours, less sleep to provide a better life for their children. Even though Emily’s mother found a way to provide for her their relationship was tested when

This summer I’ve experienced something unusual and I loved it! I worked at a waterpark as a lifeguard but I wasn’t at the places in the park where you need to rescue people so it was pretty relax, I was outside while talking with the clients. One day, this little 8-year-old girl fainted in her mother’s arms. Her mother was in chock and screaming: ‘’Do something!! I think she’s convulsing!!’’ She was unconscious for let’s say 40 seconds and then she came back and was normal. She was just dehydrated and sleepy because of the extreme heat. It was for me a beautiful experience because it was my first ‘’rescuing’’ and it just went so quickly but there was nothing I could’ve done that I didn’t do!

‘When you have children it transforms you,’ she thought to herself, as if displaced from the horror of the surroundings, ‘It brings your centre of gravity away from you and into a physical being, one you would do anything for.’ For a moment, she let herself recall the first time their eyes opened, staring into what felt like her soul; their first laughs reverberating within her; the

I watch Celianna stroke her baby’s cheek softly. The look in her eyes crushed me inside knowing that she would have to sacrifice her dead child to create more space on the boat. The bond between a mother and child is so strong. Celianne’s baby have not cried ever since she popped out of her, that was when i knew something wasn’t right. There’s no words that could describe how Celianna must be feeling right now in this situation. The sun was starting to go down, meaning the day was almost coming to an end. The sun laid gently on the ocean as it made the sky turn a pinkish

Hi Adrienne! Although your post is somewhat different from mine, I find your reminder about pivotal moments in our path on life incredibly encouraging. In my post I discussed the fact that God’s desired result for my life was to become a mother, and I believe that in order to become a mother, God needed me to become a teacher as well. Although I did not begin my pursuit of a degree in the field of education, somewhere deep down I always knew that I wanted to be a teacher. It was not until I received a bachelor’s in business administration, and a promised job following graduation, that I understood where God was directing my life. Following the merger of two major companies, the job that I was promised upon graduation was eliminated.

“They have to transport her to children’s hospital” My mom replied choking on her tears, and this was all I heard for a few hours. I did not know how to feel.

The sadness on her face made my stomach drop, but she pushed her lip into a smile. She started to explain everything that had happened in vague detail. All I knew was my newborn niece, Melanie, was now in an incubator in the NICU with tubes connected everywhere just barely holding on to life. I held back my tears with a lump forming in my throat. I wanted to stay strong. I knew if this sweet, little baby could pull through whatever she did, then I can hold back my emotions. I peeled off the sticky name tag I was told to wear to get in and out of the maternity wing, my hands feeling dirtier each minute that I was